Jasper tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “That is probably true,” he admitted. “And yet… here I am, ready and willing. The offer stands, should you reconsider.”
He watched her flare, cheeks warming, the tight lines of her posture, the sharp tilt of her chin. It was exquisite, this challenge of being near her, of wanting to help while being denied, of making her flustered without ever raising a hand in offense.
Matilda’s fingers grazed the edge of the shawl once more, and she muttered under her breath. “It would be simpler to leave it there than keep struggling.”
“I feel like such a villain,” she heard him say lightly from behind her, and she froze mid-motion, thinking it was merely the wind carrying her imagination. “Watching you struggle so, and yet forbidden to assist…”
She turned sharply, intending to tell him firmly that she would rather leave the shawl than have him meddle, but the words caught in her throat. Jasper stood impossibly close, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief, and before she could step back, her foot slipped on the wet grass. Instinctively, she flung her arms around the nearest solid thing, which happened to be him. The next moment, they both toppled forward, plunging into the shallow edge of the pond with a spectacular splash. Matilda’s skirts fanned around her, sodden, and her breath caught in a startled gasp.
Jasper sputtered first, his coat clinging to him as he swam upright, one arm instinctively around her to keep her from falling fully under.
“By all the saints,” he said, in a voice that was a mixture of amusement and exasperation, “Lady Matilda, I did not expect… quite this close an encounter.”
Matilda, drenched and sputtering, wrung her hands at the waterlogged skirts. “I… how could you? Why were you so close?!”
He leaned back slightly, still holding her steady, a grin tugging at his lips despite the soggy state of his coat. “I asked you to allow me to help. You refused. I simply could not stand idly by.”
She fixed him with a glare sharp enough to sting. “You are utterly impossible!” she exclaimed, as her voice trembled with fury. “You meddle in everything! And now, I am wet, all because of you!”
Jasper’s lips twitched with the barest hint of a smile, though his eyes were earnest. “I only meant to help,” he said, reaching out as if to steady her again.
“I told you I didn’t need your help!” she snapped, taking a half-step back, her soaked skirts clinging stubbornly to her legs. “I can manage perfectly well on my own, thank you very much. It is not your concern!”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused despite the soggy chaos surrounding them. “Ah, but we are godparents together, and everything concerning you becomes my concern, whether you wish it or not,” he said lightly, though she could detect the sincerity beneath the teasing tone.
Matilda’s cheeks flamed with frustration. “You are infuriating. I cannot imagine how anyone endures you!”
“Then consider me,” he said smoothly, allowing his grin to return, “an exercise in endurance. And I must say, you are proving quite formidable, wet skirts and all.”
She spun on her heel, muttering indignantly, “I do not wish to endure anything from you. You have caused enough mischief for one morning!”
Matilda turned on her heel, feeling the waterlogged skirts clinging to her legs, and began marching back toward the house. Her cheeks were still flushed from indignation and she feared they would remain that way for the rest of the day. How on earth was she to explain her wet state to everyone?
That was when she heard it.
“Matilda!”
She ignored the first shout of her name, thinking it must be the wind, or perhaps her imagination. When a second, louder call rang after her, she tightened her jaw and kept her pace, determined not to give him the satisfaction of turning.
It was the third time that his voice reached her that she finally spun around and froze.
There he stood, grinning like a madman, with one hand raised high and her shawl dangling triumphantly from his fingers.
“I helped you,” he called out to her playfully. “See?”
Matilda’s grey eyes flared, and her jaw set in fury. She did not move toward him. She did not even reach for the shawl. Instead, she turned sharply and stormed back toward the house.
Her voice rang behind her, though she did not look back. “I did not ask for your help before, Your Grace! And I do not need it now! You may keep your villainy to yourself!”
Several minutes later, Matilda burst through the doorway, dripping water onto the polished floor. Hazel and Cordelia, seated by the windows with a view of the gardens, both gasped at the sight.
“Good heavens, Matilda!” Cordelia exclaimed, springing to her feet. “What on earth has happened to you?”
Hazel’s hands flew to her chest, eyes wide in shock. “You are soaked through! How did this…?”
Matilda wrung her hands at her sides and let out a huff of exasperation. “It was that insufferable Duke!” she explained, her voice rising in a mix of outrage and disbelief. “I went for a walk by the pond and the wind blew my shawl into the water. Of course,hehad to be there and he could not resist meddling.” She flailed one hand toward her drenched skirts. “I lost balance and we both ended up in the water!”
Cordelia’s mouth opened, then closed again as she tried and failed to suppress a laugh. Hazel’s eyes narrowed in barely hidden amusement.
