Page 65 of Vanquishing the Viscount

“I don’t care about that,” she said, and set to it with a will. The first boot came off with a plop and landed in a dripping mess on the grass. The other followed soon after, and he removed his stockings and stood. The trek across the gravel into the house would be painful in bare feet, but he’d just have to grit his teeth.

Emma was wiping her muddy hands on the grass. There was black, noisome mud plastered down the front of her gown, but her eyes were on him, her face full of concern. “We must get you back to the house and into some dry clothes,” she said.

“And we must get you back to the house and into some clean ones,” he responded with a smile.

Together, they made their way back into the atrium, Emma holding her muddy skirts out and away from her petticoats, and him carrying his ruined Hessians, leaving a trail of water behind him.

She insisted on seeing him to his room and putting him into the care of his valet, who was given strict orders to get him dry and warm as soon as possible and to inform either herself or George should he develop the shivers.

“A dousing like that might just bring back another bout of the ague,” she explained, her hazel eyes somber, a small frown on her brow.

History was repeating itself, but this time he had no complaint. Forgetting the presence of his valet, he caught her face between his hands. “Don’t worry—I’m strong. My body’s learned to cope with far worse than a little energetic swimming. Now, let me go inside before I ruin Colt Hoare’s carpet. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He’d rather see her before dinner. In his room, alone, so he could collect on the promise of her kiss.

And he also wanted her in his bed, naked, married to him—and in love with him.

He knew it was a lot to hope for.

But nothing on earth would make him give up now.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“Thank you for your assistance” wasn’t quite the response Emma had hoped for after the dramatic events of the day.

When she saw James cleave through the water to rescue the drowning child, her feelings for him had shot way past the bounds of propriety. A lengthy, reassuring kiss before parting would have been most welcome.

Something more would have been even better.

Consequently, she couldn’t hide her disappointment when the valet politely closed the door on her.

She wandered off, bereft.

At least now she knew which room was James’s—and it was just around the corner from the one she was sharing with Jemima. She went into her chamber and called for the maid. Between them, they removed her filthy gown and put her to rights again.

After the maid’s departure, Emma lurked about with her door open, hoping to hear James leave his room so she could catch and speak to him privately. This plan was ruined by the arrival of an overexcited Jemima, who was clutching a man’s jacket in her arms.

“Oh, Emma, did you see George?” she asked. “He was so commanding. He just stepped in, made everyone stand back, and set to work at once getting the water out of that poor girl’s lungs. He explained it all to me afterward. How wonderful it must be to have the gift of life in your hands! Had I been born a man, I’d have liked to become a physician.”

“There’s nothing to stop you from learning and practicing household medicine,” Emma replied.

Was this girl the perfect foil for her brother? She obviously admired him.

“James was brave, too, wasn’t he?” Jemima rattled on. “While everyone else stood around in shock, he just threw himself into the lake and swam like a fish and pulled the girls to safety. This is his jacket, by the way—you left it on the lawn.”

“Oh.” Emma took it and laid it on the bed, then gave a secret smile.

Here was the perfect excuse to knock on James’s door. With any luck, he’d answer it himself.

Jemima was on her knees on the window seat, peering outside. “They’re all coming up now,” she said. “We abandoned the picnic, as everyone was so upset, even though the outcome was good. The children’s parents are complete ninnyhammers not to watch them more closely. It must have taken the girls several minutes to launch the boat themselves and row it out so far, yet no one saw or stopped them.”

“Children are very good at staying out of sight when they want to,” Emma remarked, thinking of her two charges back at Figheldene. How far away, how long ago that seemed now!

“They may even have launched from the other side of the lake,” Emma pointed out, “and been hidden by the island. I daresay the truth of the matter will be gone into most carefully, to make sure such a near tragedy never occurs again. I pity Sir Richard! He won’t want any more house parties for a while. He went white as a sheet when the child was in the water.”

Jemima leaned out of the window once more, and exclaimed, “Oh, here’s George coming in. I’ll run down and congratulate him again. Where did you get to, by the way?”

“I helped James off with his boots and had to come in because I was muddy. Is the child now fully recovered, do you know?”