She smiled. Lord Admiral Nelson had definitely taken a beating over the past year. Bennet had even painted the tin soldier’s coat navy blue, and the admiral practically lived in the boy’s pocket. “I’m sure Nelson put up a gallant fight. Just think of the Battle of Trafalgar.”
But it seemed Bennet was no longer thinking of the admiral’s noble deeds. His mouth was a soft frown, and she saw his throat convulse. Was he having some twinge of guilt over whatever mischief he’d planned with his brothers? Or had the two older boys hurt his feelings somehow?
She looped an arm around his little body, felt the delicate bones of his shoulders. “What is troubling you, sweeting?”
Bennet paused for a moment. “Grace, did Mama look like me?”
The words were a sudden, surreptitious blow, but Grace kept her voice even. “What, love?”
He looked up at her with sad, solemn eyes. “That’s what Nanny said, but I don’t remember.”
“You have Mama’s eyes, and her smile. Your hair is a bit darker, like Papa’s. But your nose is all your own.” She touched the tip of his nose with her finger. “You know how you like to hum songs when you have a problem to solve? Mama did that, too. Sometimes, she’d creep to the nursery and stand in the hallway, just so she could hear you.”
“I miss—” Bennet began, his words cut off by a sudden splash and a cacophony of shouts from the lake shore. She saw sticks floating in the water, Ethan and Avery shoving each other, red faced, angry.
“Avery! You just made it worse!” Ethan accused. “We’ll never reach it now!”
“It’s not my fault! The wind caught it.” Avery shoved Ethan back and grabbed another stick, hurling it into the water, thewaves it made nudging what looked like a small pale smudge further out on the lake.
“Boys! Whatever are you squabbling about?”
Ethan pointed to the object that was drifting ever farther toward the lake’s center. “Avery stole the rocks from the harbor,” Ethan shouted, “and Admiral Nelson floated away.”
Bennet scrambled from her lap, wailing.
Grace peered out across the shining water. The boat was already a good ways from shore. Worse, Bennet’s beloved toy was on board. Any second it could capsize, the lead soldier plunging to the lake’s bottom.
“He’s sinking!” Tears streaked Bennet’s cheeks. “Grace, help!”
God, how many times had she seen that look—her brothers pleading with her to make things right. Things she couldn’t fix for them, no matter how desperately she wished she could. But with this, at least she had a chance.
She hastily unfastened her frock, stripped to her chemise, then dove in, the cold water driving breath from her body. The boys gathered, frantic, on the shore, waving their arms as she struck out, swimming, keeping her eye on the floundering boat.
“He’s drowning!” Ethan yelled.
“Save him! Save him!” Bennet shrieked, frantic. The tiny craft wavered, disappeared.
Taking a deep breath, she dove beneath the surface, praying she was not too late.
CHAPTER 3
Lucien had always craved the peace the first hours in the country offered, away from the crush of people, the thick coal smoke, the constant demands on his time, purse, and the decisions to be made.
But there was no respite to be had today.
Leaving his coach behind, he rode his favorite Turkoman gelding along paths he hadn’t taken since boyhood. Even a condemned man was allowed solitude to make peace with his fate before he mounted the gallows, he told himself as he crested the hill. But when he saw the lake below, his whole body stiffened.
Children, he thought, grinding his teeth. Why did it have to be children today of all days? He could hear their shouts, glimpse hats made of folded newspaper as boys raced about in chaotic glory flinging something at each other, dodging, reminding him of his childhood, his sisters and brother…
He turned the horse away from memories hot as an iron brand, but before he could urge Atlas into a canter, the lakeside shrieks changed. Piercing, raw, with a hysterical note that sent chills down Lucien’s spine.
“Help! Help!”
He wheeled Atlas back toward the lake, seeing three small boys clustered on the shore, one sobbing as someonenear the lake’s center thrashed wildly. Lucien glimpsed a flash of white face and arm. “Bennet! It’s got me…” a feminine voice cried just before her dark head disappeared under the water.
Lucien swore and spurred his horse toward the lake at a run.
Triumphant,Grace waved Lord Admiral Nelson above the water so Bennet could see his beloved toy before she dove beneath the surface again, indulging in a few moments of freedom. The glide of the water against her skin as she swam was a blissful release, all of her cares seeming to slip away in this glorious, weightless world. She could hear muffled sounds—the boys shouting, a splash that no doubt meant one of them had fallen in. With a hard kick she propelled herself upward, the lakeshore a blur through streaming water and a tangle of sodden hair. One. Two. Three. All boys safe on the shore. She grinned, made a show of splashing in the game they loved. “It’s got me! Pulling me down!” She plunged under again, saw something churning toward her. What on earth? She instinctively started to kick away, but a strong arm shot out amidst a flurry of turbulence and clamped around her waist. Grace gasped in surprise, sucking in lungful of water. Her captor pulled her against a hard-muscled body, yanking her upwards. Her head broke the surface and she emerged coughing, sputtering. She glimpsed the harsh planes of a masculine face. She kicked harder, fighting to get free.
