Page 27 of His Stolen Duchess
“I can do it,” she said stiffly.
“Well, I’m doing it anyway,” he replied, already striding toward the stone structure.
He glanced back once, just to be certain she wasn’t following. She wasn’t. She stayed by the tree line, stiff and watchful, as though rooted in place.
The gazebo was, as he suspected, in poor shape. Cracks lined the base, and ivy crept along the walls. It would need to be torn down and rebuilt before it became dangerous.
When he turned to look back, his steps faltered.
Georgina had edged out from the trees.
Arms tightly crossed, she stood just a few feet from the grass bordering the water’s edge, her jaw set, her gaze locked on the lake as though daring it to move first. She wasn’t trembling, but he could see her defiance battling with the apprehension that rippled through her frame.
Something about her stubborn posture sparked an odd flicker of admiration in him.
She’s afraid—but she won’t let it conquer her.
Lysander slowly and deliberately made his way back, then came to a stop beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said, keeping his tone low, almost gentle. “You’re not going to fall in.”
“I know,” she muttered, her voice roughened by something she likely wouldn’t name aloud.
Still, after a beat, she glanced up at him and said, softly, “Thank you.”
The words surprised him more than they ought to have. He gave a short nod in reply, unsure what to make of the odd tightness in his chest.
“It’s not uncommon,” he said, attempting to ease the moment’s weight. “Most women never learn to swim.”
That, however, was the wrong thing to say.
She recoiled as though he’d slapped her. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means exactly what it means,” he replied, though carefully, refusing to rise to her bait. “Many women in society never learn such skills. Men often do—especially those sent to war. It isn’t meant as an insult. It’s merely a fact.”
She glared at him, heat flaring in her eyes. “So now I’m simply lacking vital skills?”
He exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re arguing because you’re uncomfortable.”
“And you’re acting like some magnanimous savior,” she shot back. “Is this your way of collecting debts?”
“I will be your savior,” he said, his words clipped but calm.
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“What happens the next time you’re near water?” he asked, his voice steady but cool. “Do you plan to run forever?”
“I don’t plan to be near it again,” she replied curtly. “No more weddings to escape from. I’ll be perfectly safe, far from all lakes.”
He wasn’t amused. “No, Duchess. I’m going to teach you to swim.”
She stared at him as though he’d grown a second head.
“You?” she asked, incredulous. “You’re going to teach me to swim?”
“I’m an excellent swimmer,” he said simply. “And I won’t allow harm to come to you during the lessons.”
She looked back at the lake, visibly torn between offense and fear. “I… we both have other duties. I won’t waste your time.”
