Page 25 of A Spinster to Reform the Duke
She huffed and tried to escape him for good, moving to the very edge of the riverbank, squeezing through two groups of people, yet somehow, the Duke still followed, never leaving her side.
“You are ignoring me now.”
“No, I merely wish to watch the race,” she declared, turning her focus to the river. There were two sailing boats up ahead that had come so near to each other, there was a cry from the riverbank.
“They are going to collide!”
“Watch out!”
The shouts went up. As the two boats crashed, one of them overturned, taking the poor sailor deep into the water.
“Good Lord,” Rebecca said in panic, just as the Duke stepped forward, his own concern rising.
“Get him out!” someone shouted from behind them.
There was a push from the crowd. People far back either trying to move forward to see better, or someone attempting to jump into the water to rescue the sailor, for the crowd moved forward as one, shoving Rebecca in the back. She tumbled forward, dropping the teacup somewhere in the water and falling off the riverbank entirely.
She plunged into the water, feeling it soaking into her dress, pulling her downward into its depths. With her eyes open, they stung, the river water chafing at the corners of her eyes and forcing her to attempt to close them again.
Her knees collided with the riverbed. As she tried to push up though, her dress caught in the reeds, and she could go nowhere at all. Unable to breathe, she began to panic, pulling at the reeds and the skirt of her dress. She opened her eyes again when she saw something in front of her – black and hulking, silhouetted thanks to the sun shining through the glittering river. Then an arm came around her waist, pulling her up so sharply that her dress was forced to tear itself from the reeds.
A second later her head was above the water, listening to the panicked cries of those on land.
“Someone, help them! Get them out.”
“I think the Duke has her.”
The Duke?
Rebecca craned her neck to look round, still aware of the firm arm across her waist. It seemed she was not the only one to be forced into the water. Three or four others had also been thrust into the depths, now all clambering back onto the riverbank. Amongst them was the Duke of Frampington, only he had hold of her, having been the thing that had torn her free from the reeds.
He drew her toward the edge of the river, then placed his hands either side of her waist, lifting her out of the water, to where Lord Herberton and Eliza were standing at the side. They each took an arm and helped her upwards, just as the Duke clambered out behind her.
“Rebecca! Are you all right?” Eliza wailed in panic.
“I’m fine,” Rebecca said hurriedly, though already her teeth were beginning to chatter.
“She’s frozen,” Lord Herberton’s face was set in concern. “Timothy, are you injured?”
“I am well,” the Duke said, urging Rebecca to look back at him. He was soaked, his black hair plastered to his forehead in a way that she found most alluring. When he began to shed his sodden jacket, she looked away, startled the effect the wet clothes had on showing off his athletic figure. “My Lady, come, my carriage is this way. We must get you home.”
He took her arm.
“Yourcarriage?” she said in alarm as he led her through the crowds. “I cannot go by your carriage, people will gossip.”
“I’d say people will forgive the situation. I am not leaving you here to get hypothermia.”
“We’ll come too,” Lord Herberton said decisively, urging Eliza and the maid that had accompanied them to follow on behind.
Rebecca was struggling, with her soaked shoes slipping in the grass, but the Duke never let go of her, even holding her up when she nearly tripped.
“Thank you,” she managed to utter, through chattering teeth. “Y-you do not have to help me anymore.”
“Believe me, my Lady, I want to. There was not a chance I was leaving you in that water.”
What did he mean by that?
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