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“I agree,” the countess said, glowering at the sky.
Rhys scowled when he noted the curricles ahead were being surged to greater speed. What in God’s name was the marquess thinking? Surely, they were not thinking to outrun the rain? The horses surged to greater speed, and the rain came harder. From the darkness of the clouds, the rain had been falling for some time farther west. The slight river they had to cross would perhaps be swollen.
The dread that tightened in his gut was unwelcomed.
“I am being soaked,” Lady Wexham wailed, gripping her bonnet. “You will return us at once to the manor, Mr. Tremayne.”
He ignored her imperious demands and urged the horses forward with careful speed. He made grounds, and he saw clearly as the marquess’s curricle made it first to the narrow bridge and started to cross. What in God’s name was Viscount Trotman doing trying to overtake the marquess?
Rhys’s shout could not be heard over the slashing rain. There was a heavy, ominous groan, and the curricle carrying Georgiana and the marquess tipped over into the raging waters. There were several screams spilling from the other curricles in the procession. His duchess screamed and was then submerged. Rhys vaulted from the curricle he had brought to a shuddering stop. “Georgiana,” he shouted, shrugging from his coat, and diving into the water without hesitation.
The gray wash of rain made it difficult to see. He spied the marquess dragging himself up the bank. The man hadn’t even unhitched the horses.
“Rhys!”
He whipped his head toward the scream, relief arrowing through him when he spied Georgiana trying to swim against the current. Working with swift strokes, he plunged into the raging, muddied waters to her side and aided her to the bank. Gripping her waist, he pushed her up into her brother’s arms. Rhys hauled himself from the waters, and she flung herself at him, capturing him in a fierce hug.
“Good heavens, Rhys!”
Her public display of affection shocked him and blasted hope into his heart. Unless she was simply overwrought and was reacting purely to the sudden intensity of the situation.
“Oh, those poor dears,” she said in an achingly soft whisper.
He stiffened. He’d forgotten about the horses. He whirled around to where the duchess stared with such heartbreak on her face. The horses had been valiantly fighting against the churning waters to no avail. Without hesitation, Rhys dived in the river and swam as quickly as he could toward the horses.
“Will no one else help?”
The answer to Georgiana’s faint demand was hidden by a clap of thunder. Rhys worked fast, unhitching the horses with grim efficiency, doing his damnedest to ignore the piercing cold and the violent tug of the current. The horses were released, and the frantic animals pushed forward toward the other side of the embankment and with powerful lunges mounted the riverbank to safety. At least some of the blathering idiots on that side took the reins and assisted the animals.
He swam his way to Georgiana, who hovered with perceptible uneasiness by the bank, uncaring of the rain. A loud roar sounded, and before he could react, the swell of water that powered down pushed him under.
…
Georgiana ran along the embankment, eyes frantically scanning the raging waters. Where was he? Oh God, she kicked her slippers from her feet, her fingers flying with nimble speed as she struggled to remove her heavy and sodden gown.
“What in God’s name do you think you are doing?” Her brother roared.
From the opposite embankment, ladies and lords were pointing at her, their expressions varying degrees of ill-concealed shock.
Lord Locksley hurried over to her side. “Georgiana, what is happening?”
“I’m going back in.”
“You were just pulled out,” he snapped in evident frustration.
“Rhys is in there.” Oh God, she couldn’t lose him. She was a strong swimmer and perhaps she could help him from the raging river. No one else seemed inclined to assist, and she could not stand idly by while he… Her throat went tight and tears pricked behind her lids. The very thought of Rhys drowning had rage and panic pumping through her in equal force.
The marquess noted her intimate use of Rhys’s name and knowledge flared in his eyes. “I see,” he said softly.
Simon’s eyes watched the water like a hawk. “Why in God’s name would he dive back in for the horses?”
“Clearly you and everyone believes they are replaceable. But that is the manner of man Rhys is! Kind, sweet, and honorable.”
“Are you out of your mind? Rhys Tremayne is one of the most dangerous men in England, and you are standing here telling me he is sweet and kind?” Her brother’s voice was stupefied with incredulity.
Disregarding her brother, she broke into a run, uncaring of the mud splattering against the hem of her dress. She rounded the bend of the river, and a cry slipped from her when she spied Rhys hauling himself from the churning waters. Georgiana sprinted over, and right before she reached his side, she tripped in the mud.
“What the hell,” he snapped before he lurched and grabbed her, cradling her against his chest and swivelling so he took the brunt of the fall.
He grunted and twisted, so she was half sprawled atop him.
“There is a lady fainting across the riverbank,” he said, a mixture of irritation and amusement coating his tone.
“I hope she lands facedown in the mud,” she retorted uncharitably.
Georgiana mortified herself by bursting into tears. “You could have drowned,” she wailed, fisting a handful of Rhys’s sopping coat and attempting to shake him.
“They needed rescuing,” Rhys murmured, his eyes searching her face intently. “Duchess, are you quite aware we are out in the open with several members of the ton ogling us?”
She breathed in raggedly as she stared back at him. “Yes.”
“And?”
“I do not care.”
His fingers slid over her cheeks, his thumb smoothing against her lips. “And why is that?”
“I love you, Rhys. So much it hurts.” She hadn’t known love could be so powerful, so all-consuming. “I…I was planning to sneak into your room at Lady Chestnut’s manor and confess how much I’ve missed you and without shame try to seduce you.”
He smiled. “I was blithely informed by my sisters the true objective of a well-organized house party is to engage in scandalous dalliances. I would never have expected it from you.”
“I’ll be your wife if you still want me.”
“Still want you? Do I need to breathe?”
She felt the heat of his skin as her plam cradled the strong line of his jaw. “You’re not cold,” she gasped.
“Not when you touch me. Are you certain, duchess? This is the only chance I am giving you to think over your declarations. After this, I will not let you go, even if you beg.”
“I wager scandal will follow us all our lives, and I will be the disreputable duchess who dared to marry only a mister. But I do not care. I love you, and I want to be your wife more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life.”
He cupped her cheeks, and then her mouth was on his, being thoroughly ravished. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to breathe. He kissed her roughly with a hint of desperation, but it was such a sweet assault. He pulled his lips from hers. “You are kissing the newly minted Viscount Montrose.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I wasn’t leaving anything to chance, my lady. I wanted you and our child more than my next breath, so I bargained with the devil at his court.”
“You did our king an unmatched favor,” she whispered, thoroughly shocked.
“I did, and now the crumbling and badly in need of repairs Montrose estate is ours.”
As a viscount, it would be much easier for him to gain entrance to the elite circles of the ton, and she was quite aware he’d done it for her. Favors usually came with a price. What had he granted the king, and what would be asked of Rhys in return? “Oh, Rhys.” Her throat
tightened, and she gave him a watery smile. “I would wed you without the title, my love. I do not care.”
“I know that now,” he murmured roughly, his eyes gleaming with primal satisfaction. “We are after all splayed onto a muddy bank with several members of the ton looking on. I cannot be in any doubt,” he drawled teasingly. “If you glance just a little to the left, you will see a small crowd. There is a lot of pointing and whispering, too.”
She smiled. “There will be cartoons and rife speculations in the papers.”
“Perhaps not.”
Her eyes widened. “What did you do?”
“I collected the darkest secrets of all the editors.”
“All of them?”
“I wanted to vanquish all your fears so you would come into my arms without fear or reservation.”
“Oh, Rhys, there is no need to make enemies for me. Come what may, we will face it together.”
