Chapter Five
Amelie glanced back at the cottage, checking there was no movement from Lord Beescroft’s room, before slipping her dress from her shoulders.
She was confident the Duke would not be awake for almost another hour.
He was a man of habit, both in the things he could control and the things he couldn’t.
He woke at the same time every morning and, although she was not aware of the exact moment he fell asleep every night, she suspected that followed a strict routine too.
It meant she had almost an hour of privacy and solitude, exactly what she needed for her swim.
The river running through the back garden of the cottage had been calling to her since the very first day they had moved in, but until now she had been too busy getting everything set up for the Duke and finding the best way to manage all her new responsibilities.
Today though the sun had streamed through her bedroom window, waking her early, and from the moment she’d got up she had been tempted by thoughts of a swim.
There had been a beautiful river running through the grounds of her childhood home and Amelie had spent many a summer’s afternoon jumping from the banks and swinging over the water on a log-swing her father had had constructed.
She could swim well, although she had not had the opportunity for quite some time.
The water of the river Cam was clear, allowing a view of the riverbed beneath. It was not deep, but there was a bit of a current, and Amelie decided she would swim upstream first. If she tired, the water would bring her back to the cottage.
She slipped off her shoes and draped her dress over the branch of a tree, looking back one final time to the house to ensure she was not observed before dipping a toe into the water.
It was fresh but inviting and, without allowing herself to hesitate, she sat down on the bank and lowered herself into the water.
It took a minute for Amelie’s body to adjust to the temperature of the water, but slowly she felt the tension seep from her and her muscles relax.
She could stand easily, although the water was waist height, and after a moment she pushed herself forward, submerging her shoulders and swimming into the current.
As she swam Amelie was taken back to the carefree days of her childhood and she could almost imagine her mother sitting on the banks of the river back home, a blanket spread out, reading one of her French novels.
Every so often she would glance up to ensure Amelie was still alive, but her mother had believed in letting her children find their own limits, so her supervision had been very minimal.
Today the conditions were perfect. The sun glinted off the water and the birds sang their morning chorus from the trees nearby.
Amelie felt some of the worry start to lift from her.
She had not planned to divulge quite so much to Lord Beescroft, but when he had asked her directly about her circumstances she had found she could not lie to him.
There was something intense but trustworthy about him.
She had initially thought his assessing gaze to be judgmental, but she now realised it had just been his expression of interest.
The Duke had been very reasonable, very respectful of her privacy when she had changed the subject away from her family, but the idea that he might have an inkling that there was something she did not wish anyone to know about her father was unsettling.
There were some secrets too shameful to share.
Hopefully, his reserved manner would stop him from asking any more.
She sighed as she pushed through the water.
Privacy was important to her, but it had felt good to talk.
In the year she had been employed in the Duke’s household, she had told no one the full truth of her circumstances.
Mrs Potter knew she was supporting her kinsfolk, but Amelie had not told her the whole story, and she had kept her distance from the other maids, feeling as though she didn’t fit in.
There was no one she confided in any longer.
When she had lived in Kent she’d had a small group of friends, young women she’d grown up with.
Some had distanced themselves when the extent of her father’s debts and deception had become apparent.
Amelie had never really blamed them—those years of early adulthood were important for young women, and anything that besmirched their name or hinted at connection to scandal might affect the likelihood of marriage proposals, and for some that would be catastrophic.
Amelie had pushed away others herself, finding it too distressing to have other people witness her shame and her complete change in circumstance.
‘Enough,’ she told herself. The Duke needed her here in Grantchester and she knew she was doing a good job.
He enjoyed the meals she made, and she ran the small household without any difficulty.
It was wonderful to have small pockets of time throughout the day to herself, when the chores were all done and she was waiting for the Duke to return before starting to prepare dinner.
He had struck up the conversation to be friendly, but now he knew a little about her he was hardly going to go digging around for more information.
After she had swum a good distance up the river she turned and allowed herself to float on the surface of the water. Slowly the current pushed her back towards the cottage garden.
Will woke with a start, pulled from his dreams with a jolt.
At first he was unsure what had roused him, but then he heard it again: the faint splash of water coming from the bottom of the garden.
He frowned, pushing himself upright in bed.
It was early, too early for anyone to be rowing on the river, and as he listened he heard another splash, bigger this time.
Curiosity piqued, he rose, leaving his bedroom to look out of the window in the hall that had a view over the back garden. The glare of the sun made it impossible to see at first, but then he caught a glimpse of a body in the water.
For a moment he was paralysed, unable to do anything but stare at the unmoving form of Amelie, honey-blonde hair spread out behind her like riverweed, eyes closed and limbs still.
As he watched, her body seemed to convulse, and then she disappeared under the water.
A surge of panic ripped through him and, without stopping to pull on a shirt, he raced downstairs and out into the little garden.
His eyes darted back and forth across the surface of the water. Thankfully Amelie was clad in a white chemise which made her easy to spot and, without a moment’s hesitation, he plunged into the water and caught her in his arms, pulling her to the surface.
The relief he felt when she took a spluttering breath was instant and overwhelming and he held her a little tighter to his body. By the time he had her half on the bank, she had found her voice.
‘What are you doing?’ Amelie gasped, wiping water from her eyes and pushing her long, blonde away from her face.
Her chemise was plastered to her body, the wet fabric clinging to every curve and leaving very little to the imagination.
Will’s eyes raked over her, checking she was unharmed, unable to stop himself from noticing the details of her almost naked form.
‘What am I…?’ He blinked at her, still panting, water dripping from his hair into his eyes. ‘I thought you were drowning! You went under and—’
‘I was swimming,’ she interrupted, cheeks flushing a deep pink. She clutched the fabric of her chemise to her body, as if suddenly aware of how the material clung to her.
Will swallowed hard, dragging his eyes back to her face. His throat felt dry despite the river water trickling down it.
He tried to say something but nothing came out. After a moment, he cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me. I thought you were in danger.’
Amelie’s lips parted, her expression caught between indignation and laughter.
‘I see that,’ she said at last, her voice softer now. Her eyes came up to meet his and he felt a catch in his chest. For a long moment they stood there, Amelie half-in, half-out of the water, his hand on her waist, his body pressed against hers to stop her slipping down the bank.
It was an intimate position, too intimate, and eventually Will regained enough control of himself to step away.
Amelie scrambled backwards onto the bank, her cheeks flushing, her hair hanging loose and wet about her shoulders.
She looked like the most beautiful woman in the world just now and Will felt the urge to reach out, to climb from the river and kiss her.
With great effort he pulled his gaze away, turning slightly to give her some privacy as she got up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her rise and then hesitate before shaking her head and walking away.
Will sank a little further down into the water. He had an excellent visual memory and now the image of his maid almost naked was seared into his mind. He swallowed hard, trying to think of something else, anything else, to distract himself, but it was impossible.