She took it, and he pulled her up so close that for a moment she thought he might kiss her. But he only stared, his blue eyes scanning her face as if searching for cracks in the porcelain.
Nancy’s heart thudded. She looked away.
Oscar dropped her hand and gathered the blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. His coat, still on the grass, followed, draped across her back like a cape.
He stood behind her, large and warm and so close that the air itself seemed to tighten.
She dared not move.
A long silence hung between them, broken only by the children, now laughing as they chased each other toward the carriage.
Nancy swallowed. “That will do.”
Oscar did not step away. He hovered, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the tension vibrating in the scant space between their bodies. His gaze moved over her once more, as if admiring how the wet garments clung to her form.
Nancy was tempted to ask him to look away, but a part of her—a very treacherous one—basked in the attention.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She blinked, nodded, and when she spoke, her voice was small. “Yes. Thank you.”
He leaned down, his lips near her ear. “That is not the proper way to thank your rescuer, Duchess.”
She turned to glare at him, cheeks burning. “If you expect a reward for pulling a sodden woman from a pond, you have mistaken the nature of gallantry.”
Oscar grinned, all wolfish delight. “I never mistake anything. Especially not you.”
She bristled. “You are insufferable.”
“And you,” he replied, “are impossible.”
She squared her shoulders, prepared to defend her honor, but he was already moving away, shepherding the children into the carriage. Nancy pulled the coat tighter around herself and followed, unsteady but determined not to show it.
As she climbed into the carriage, Oscar offered his hand once more. She ignored it, choosing instead to focus on the twins, who were now dry and arguing over who had the best “near-death story.”
Nancy sat, damp and humiliated, and stared out the window.
The carriage jolted forward.
She expected silence. Instead, Oscar said, “I suspect you fell on purpose.”
She snapped her head around. “Excuse me?”
“You did not wish to be upstaged by Henry’s biscuit victory. So you staged a spectacle.”
She gaped. “You, arrogant, delusional man. Not everything in the world is about you, or about getting your attention!”
Oscar smiled. “If you say so.”
Nancy sputtered. “It was an accident. Purely an accident.”
He folded his arms. “Of course.”
She could feel the heat rise in her chest, up her neck, into her ears. “I assure you, the last thing I would ever want is for you to rescue me. Or to owe you anything. Ever.”
Oscar watched her, eyes bright. “You can call it whatever you like, Duchess. But I know what I saw.”
Henry and Clara giggled, delighted by the grown-ups’ quarrel.
