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She pulled the rope back, gauging the number of counts she needed so that it was right above Mrs. Tucker’s shoulder when she reached five.

“Get ready!” She swung. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.”

For one paralyzing moment, time seemed to stand still. And then Mrs. Tucker’s arm shot upward, and the rope slid through Rosalind’s fingers as the older woman pulled it to her side.

“I have it! I have it!”

Tears sprang to Rosalind’s eyes. “Thread it over your head and shoulder,” she called.

A gust of wind swirled past. Rosalind’s sopping skirts flapped against her legs, and the broken railing rattled. Beneath her torso, the deck shifted. There was an earsplitting groan, and across from her, another plank gave way.

Mrs. Tucker’s scream was smothered by the splash of the wood hitting the river. The deck groaned again, and suddenly, Sebastian was kneeling beside her.

“We have no more time,” he said, reaching for the rope in Rosalind’s hands. “The bridge is collapsing.”

She pressed her hands to the broken board. “Mrs. Tucker?” she shouted. “Do you have the rope around you?”

“Yes. Yes.”

Rosalind rose to her knees. “Pull,” she yelled to the men on the riverbank. “Pull!”

The rope tightened and slid across the deck. Mrs. Tucker cried out, and another creak rent the air. Sebastian leaned forward, reaching for the woman suspended below the deck. There was a splash as something else hit the water. A piece of the railing broke off and spiraled downward. The men at the end of the bridge shouted, their voices indistinct, their warning clear.

Rosalind crawled backward, making room for Sebastian as he grasped Mrs. Tucker’s arms and hauled her clear of the hole.

“Quickly,” he said, coming to his feet. The older woman stumbled. He caught her, lifting her off the deck. “Run, Rosalind. I beg of you. Run.”

Rosalind scrambled upright. The board beneath her feet cracked, and the rope around her waist jerked. Barely able to keep up with the speed at which the men were reeling her in, she stumbled toward shore.

Someone had lit the lantern. It flickered like a beacon against a gray, overcast backdrop. Men lined the shore, urging them on. Sebastian crossed onto solid ground, immediately relinquishing Mrs. Tucker to someone else’s extended arms. Right behind him, Rosalind slipped on the wet wood. The rope bit into her back, and she cried out. Sebastian swung around, lunging for her and pulling her onto the riverbank just as the plank beneath her feet gave way.

“I have you, my love.” His breathing was as ragged as hers.

She clung to him, pressing her cheek against his wet coat. All around them, the wind howled, men shouted, and the bridge groaned. But in his arms, she was safe.

“May I offer the duchess a blanket, Your Grace?”

Rosalind did not recognize the voice.

Sebastian relaxed his hold on her. “That would be most welcome.”

He took the blanket from the man’s outstretched hand and wrapped it around Rosalind’s shoulders. She grasped the corners, pulling them tighter. The blanket must have come from the bottom of a pile, for it was not fully wet.

“I . . . I cannot thank you enough, Your Grace,” the man stammered.

“I am only sorry that Mrs. Tucker had to endure such an awful experience,” Sebastian said. “It never should have happened. You have my sincere apologies, Mr. Tucker.”

Mr. Tucker. This was the poor woman’s husband. Brushing the dripping curls from her face, Rosalind turned to face him. “How is she?” she asked.

“She’s shiverin’—with cold mostly—but she says her worst injury is a grazed arm and a few bruises.” Mr. Tucker glanced at the nearby cart. “Mr. Greenwald has kindly offered to take us home. She’s gettin’ settled in the back of the cart with a blanket.”

“I am very relieved to hear it,” Sebastian said. “But I should like the doctor to take a look at her, just the same. Grayson will take care of the payment.”

Mr. Tucker bowed. “I’m most grateful to you, Your Grace. And to you, Your Grace.” He turned to Rosalind. “What you did out there . . .” He swallowed. “Well, if there’s ever anything I can do for you, consider it done.”

“Th-thank you, M-Mr. Tucker.” Mrs. Tucker was not the only one feeling the effects of the bone-chilling rain.

Sebastian held her close. “You’d best take your wife home, Mr. Tucker. And I shall do the same.”