“But youcanmake me wait a moment while you adjust your hold on my skirt?”
He groaned. “Oh, bother. Just roll, then.”
Lucy pressed her lips together to stop the laughter threatening to burst forth and rolled to her left. She managed to balance herself between the cart and horse without relying solely on Mr. Harrison, though he still held onto her. With Mr. Harrison’s support, she shimmied back toward the cart,and after what felt like a lifetime but must have only been a few seconds, she had more than half of her weight inside the cart. Her legs curled up on the floor below her seat instead of kicking in the air. Mr. Harrison took advantage of her newfound equilibrium by holding her upper skirt with just one hand and reaching out for her with the other.
She grabbed it and pulled.
“What the—” came a muffled gasp. Wasshesupposed to allowhimto pull her? He tipped precariously to one side, and she put more of her weight back on the spring bar. “Devil woman,” he mumbled, loudly enough for her to hear. “Let me pullyouup.”
With his feet planted firmly on the base of the cart, he hefted her over the lip and back into the cart. Her shoulders landed on the seat, but her arms cushioned her fall. Her legs curled underneath her on the spot she’d been so foolishly standing a moment ago.
This day couldn’t have gone any worse if she’d planned it. She buried her head in her arms and took a steadying breath. Mr. Harrison untangled his hand from her skirt and stepped away from her.
That was, by far, the most inelegant thing she had ever done.
And she had done it in front of her future husband.
Her shoulders started shaking and she wasn’t certain if it was from laughter or tears. Either way, she didn’t dare lift her head. What must she have looked like, hanging over the cart, flailing about? And Mr. Harrison? Surely he could have come up with a better plan than dragging her back in by her skirt. She snorted and let the laughter come.
“Are you well?” Mr. Harrison asked, quietly, as if she might throw herself from the cart again if he spooked her.
“I’m not ill,” she mumbled, her head still down.
“But are you hurt?”
Only her pride. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.
“Are you two all right?” a man called out.
Lucy’s eyes flew open, but she couldn’t look up. There’d been a witness to her debacle? Besides her fiancé?
“We are,” Mr. Harrison replied, his voice loud and bellowing. A soft hand landed on her shoulder. “You are, aren’t you?”
She nodded her head. She would be, anyway, once the embarrassment faded. It would fade, wouldn’t it? Eventually.
“Perhaps you should lift your head. The vicar still looks concerned.”
The vicar?
A silent scream echoed in her brain. The most embarrassing moment in her life was witnessed not only by Mr. Harrison, but also a vicar?
“He is coming this way.” Mr. Harrison’s voice was low and pleading. Her near-fall from the carriage had to rank pretty high on his own list of embarrassing moments, and she wasn’t helping the matter by keeping her head buried.
She took a slow, steady breath and silently thanked her late grandmother for her olive complexion. If she had her sister’s pale porcelain skin, she would surely be as red as a fall apple. She lifted her head and turned to where she had heard the vicar’s voice.
Lucy plastered a smile on her face and met the eyes of the surprisingly young churchman. “What is his name?” she muttered under her breath to Mr. Harrison.
“Mr. Victor.”
She furrowed her brows. “The vicar’s name is Victor? Vicar Victor?”
Mr. Harrison snorted. “I’d never thought of that.”
Mr. Victor approached the cart and tipped his hat in greeting. “Mr. Scarper, I don’t believe I’ve met your companion.”
Mr. Harrison nodded. “This is Miss Shroud.” He held out a hand so she could rise, and she took it. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, she waited for him to pull her up, and he did. Effortlessly. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before he dropped her hand as if it were a live coal. “Miss Shroud, Mr. Victor, our vicar.”
Lucy turned, desperately trying to ignore how close she stood to Mr. Harrison, and gave the vicar a short curtsy. “A pleasure to meet ye.” She might still be in shock over the whole incident, but at least she’d remembered to sound Scottish.
