For Christ’s sake! It was bad enough that there was some scandal brewing right beneath Aaron’s nose. That was something he didn’t like, but he could handle it, just as long as he got all the information. Scandals in thetonrarely came with French cannons pointed at him, so he had to assume that he had managed worse in his time.
Even the runaway bride was something that could be managed. He had paid less attention to the younger Miss Turner than likely he ought to have done, but she’d seemed very wan andwaifish. No doubt she was just having some sort of missish attack of nerves. She probably wasn’t even outside. She was probably just hiding out somewhere. That, too, would be fine.
What Aaron could not stand, however, was a woman freezing to death on his grounds—and that was what Miss Phoebe Turner was likely to do if she kept plunging out into the cold without even a proper cloak to keep her warm. This was killing weather; Aaron had seen it in his time on campaign.
He couldn’t stand any more death. He’d had far more than his fair share.
The termagant kept walking, alas, leaving Aaron no choice but to follow her. Even his sturdier frame was buffeted enough by the wind that walking wasn’t easy.
The snow had built up, too, drifting against the house in a way that left the depth inconsistent. There were at least a few inches on the grounds now, though. It was likely the most significant snowfall they’d had in years—something that meant that Miss Turner was unlikely to be experienced in surviving in extreme weather.
“Miss Turner!” he called for the third—and God help him, it hadbetter be the lasttime.
Again, she didn’t respond, but this time it might have been because she couldn’t hear him over the howl of the wind.
Aaron had to admit, despite himself, that she was making fairly impressive progress. She was significantly smaller than Aaron’s muscular bulk, but she wasn’t as petite as many of the young ladies in Aaron’s experience. She was athletic, as if she got a great deal of exercise. He had always admired a vigorous constitution in a woman.
Not, of course, he thought as he trudged after her, that he had beenadmiringMiss Phoebe Turner. He just noticed. It was good after all. She was unlikely to perish from the driving snow that bit at his cheeks and hands.
He couldn’t hear her, either, he realized as he saw her cup her hands to her mouth, most likely to call out for her sister. The sight reminded him of the futility of this idiotic journey. He redoubled his efforts and walked toward her. It was only when he was within an arm’s length of her that he could hear her cries.
“Hannah? Hannah, darling, where are you?”
“She can’t hear you!” he shouted close to her ear, making her jump in surprise. Christ, she had the awareness of a rock. First, crashing into him, now not even noticing him when he’d been shouting for her. It was a wonder the woman had made it this far in life.
Though perhaps she’s done it on belligerence alone, he thought as she turned on him with a ferocious scowl.
“How do you know?” she shouted back.
He gestured at the small space between them, then toward his ear, feeling faintly ridiculous at the pantomime. The better question would have been why she was asking stupid questions, but the answer to that wasabsolutebelligerence, so he didn’t waste the breath.
“We have to go back,” he insisted, grabbing her arm and tugging—not enough to harm her but enough to make his point.
She shook him off.
“Not until I find my sister!” This time, he thought he detected more than stubbornness in the shout. She was worried too.
Hell, she was likely correct to worry. He had been working on the assumption that the younger Miss Turner was not foolish enough to come outside in this weather, but if her sister had plunged frantically after her, maybe he was wrong. The threat of death seemed much more distant to people who didn’t look it in the face so often, after all.
But nothing about Miss Hannah’s situation would be improved by Miss Turner losing half her toes. If her shoes were anything like her gown in terms of practicality, they had to be soaked through already.
He looked at the stubborn set of her mouth and made, as he had so many times before, a decision designed to save a life.
He picked her up by her waist, hauled her over his shoulder, and began walking back toward the house.
Immediately, she began to fight him, squirming and kicking, her little fists pounding uselessly at his back. He merely wrapped an arm behind her knees, tried to ignore that the bottom so near his face was far rounder and more pleasant than any of the men’s that he had carried this same way, and strode back toward the warmth of the house as quickly as he could.
He had to fight the verandah door to get it open again as the wind was working against him, but fortunately, a footman was inside the parlor and leapt to help him.
“—dare you? Unhand me at once!”
Once they were out of the wind, Aaron could hear Miss Turner’s complaints, which he assumed had been unceasing during the trek. He ignored them and lifted her back over his shoulder, placing her gently on a settee before turning to the servant.
“Gather several of the men at once,” he commanded in his admiral’s voice, ignoring Miss Turner’s squawking. “Dress warmly and search the grounds for Miss Hannah. Instruct the cook to give you all warm toddies to take with you and trade off as often as you can manage. I’m not going to have anyone die out there tonight.”
The footman nodded sharply, as well-trained as any of Aaron’s naval men.
“At once, Your Grace,” he said before turning on his heel and striding out.
