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Seconds later, they broke the surface. The man coughed deeply, his lungs full of water.
“Breathe! Through your nose,” Ophelia ordered.
It couldn’t be… is it him?
She thought briefly she recognised the features of the Duke of Northmore. Then he bent forward to cough, and she lost sight of him. Seeing he was injured, as he kept raising his hand to his nose, she took hold of his arm and swam in the direction of the riverbank, towing him with her.
When they reached the riverbank, the man ended up on his knees, still coughing.
“In through your nose,” Ophelia begged again, clapping him on the back as she stood behind him.
He did as she said, in through his nose and out through his mouth. Slowly, his breathing came back to him, and he looked up. Ophelia stepped around him, one hand still on his shoulder, as the moonlight fell on his face.
“Well, Your Grace,” Ophelia said with a small smile, seeing now it was indeed the Duke of Northmore, without a doubt. His black hair was plastered across his head and rivulets of water ran down his face and off his clothes. “Or should I not call you that in case you run off again?”
“You’re jesting with me now?” he asked, then spluttered, coughing again.
“Here you go.” Ophelia clapped him on the back as he bent forward. “I suppose it was not the best time for a joke.”
“No, it wasn’t. What the hell are you doing out here?” he asked, jerking straight so fast that she backed up from him, walking across the riverbank mud in her stocking-clad feet.
“Hmm, I feel like the more pertinent question is why are you in the water?” She gestured to the river. “Or you could thank me.”
“Thank you, yes, thank you,” he said hurriedly, nodding and bending forward as he moved to his feet. “You can swim?”
“No, it was magic.” Her jest merely made him lift his head enough to glare at her. “Yes, of course I can swim. Still not the time for jokes?”
“No.”
“What a shame. I have a good one about the state you are in.” She smiled, rather wishing she could make him smile with her. “Why were you in the water?”
“That… is a good question.” He stood straight and looked madly round at the walls above the river. “I was pushed in.”
“Pushed! By whom?” Ophelia asked in a panic.
“By the man who cheated me at cards. I lost every penny I had, everything to him, then the—” He cursed, so intensely that Ophelia’s eyes widened in amusement. “He pushed me in the water to get away.”
“Did he hit you in the nose too?” She gestured to the bruise on his nose.
“It’s rather difficult to swim when you’re in your cups and have been knocked in the nose. The world is a little…” He sought for the right words as he stood straight, tipping his eyes to the clouds above. When he swayed on his feet, Ophelia reached out toward him.
“Unstable?” she offered. With her hands on his arms, they both seemed to realise at once how close they were standing.
“You have a habit of appearing at odd times.”
“Me?”
“You.” He tilted his head to the side, not making any effort to step out of her grasp. “You have a habit of touching me, as well.”
“Would you have preferred me to leave you in the water?” she asked.
“Well, this is hardly appropriate, is it?”
“Fine.” She released him. He promptly nearly fell over. “Woah!” She reached out and grabbed his arm again, but she was too slow, and he was too tall to be stopped from falling that easily. He toppled on his back, landing at an awkward angle.
“What a truly awful day!” he called to the sky loudly.
“Shh!” Ophelia begged, looking up to those who walked the walls above them. The last thing she needed was for people passing by to see them like this. God knows what they would think. “Why has it been so awful?” she asked, bending down and kneeling over him.
