Page 142 of A Duchess for his Family

Chapter Thirty-Four

Benedict jumped before anyone could stop him.

“Sophia!” Her name tore out of him.

He hit the water hard. Cold closed around his body with enough force to steal his breath, but Benedict barely felt it. The current seized his coat immediately, dragging at the heavy wool, pulling him sideways. He fought against it.

“Sophia!”

Nothing was heard, only dark water, foam and broken branches twisting past. For one horrifying second, Benedict saw no sign of her at all. The world narrowed into something primitive and terrible.

Find her.

Nothing else existed, not the servants shouting from the bank, not Marjorie screaming, not the cold.

Sophia.

Then pale fabric flashed beneath the surface several yards downstream. Benedict lunged toward it. His boots found no ground. The current carried him sideways, but he threw himself forward, caught a handful of soaked cloth, lost it, then caught her arm.

Sophia broke the surface with a choking gasp. Benedict dragged her against him.

“I have you.”

He did not know whether she heard. Her body was frighteningly cold beneath his arms, her hair plastered across her face, her gown pulling at them both like an anchor.

“I have you,” he said again.

Perhaps he was speaking to himself.

Sophia coughed violently. Her fingers clutched at his coat. That small movement nearly destroyed him.

She was alive.

Benedict wrapped one arm around her waist and fought toward shore. The stream seemed determined to keep them. Every step slipped beneath him. Water struck his hips and chest, dragged at Sophia’s skirts, and tried to wrench her from his grasp. He tightened his arm.

No.

He had spent days pushing her away. He would not let the river do it for him.

A servant waded toward them with a rope secured around his waist. “Your Grace!”

Benedict reached for him. Hands caught his arm. Another servant came from behind. Together they dragged Benedict and Sophia through the final yards until his knees struck mud. He stumbled. Someone reached for Sophia. Benedict turned his body away.

“I have her.”

“Your Grace, let me⁠—”

“I said I have her.”

The servant stopped. Benedict carried Sophia up the bank. Only when his boots found solid ground did he see Marjorie. She stood wrapped in two blankets beside the carriage, soaked hair clinging to her face. She was sobbing.

“Uncle Benedict.”

Benedict stopped. The sight of her struck him almost as hard as Sophia disappearing beneath the water.

“Marjorie.”

She ran toward him.