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Chapter One
London
From the edge of the picnic blanket, she whirled a small fan in front of her flushed face. How could it be that she, Lady Violet Flowers had to take after their father in stature, while her four siblings were whip slim? It was so unfair to have curvaceous contours perspiring beneath a thin chemise and calico day frock.
She longed for the cool of the house, while her youngest sisters played in the meadow behind her. Her older sister and mother picked wildflowers from an obliging field. Fatigued by heat, her gaze fell on the gentle curve in the river. A boat dock ran alongside a little swell beneath a weeping willow, where a drake and hen tugged at the weeds along the edge of the riverbank.
How enticing to dangle bare feet in the cool water. She glanced at Gwynnie, their old housekeeper, snoozing against the trunk of the shady maple where they had chosen to have the picnic. Could she dare ask to dip her toes?
Sleepily, Gwynnie opened one eye. “Does your mum mean to keep the girls out here much longer?”
“I do not believe so,” Violet answered. A lovely carriage, turned out with a pair of high-steppers, clipped past the dock. The lady driver sported a red, riding-jacket and jaunty hat. From the opposite direction, a large pony pulled an old-fashioned trap, with a gentleman, small child, and her nurse. The gentleman pulled off the drive, leaving the road open for the lady in the carriage to pass. She did not, but stopped and spoke to the man.
He stepped down, approached the woman, and the nurse and child stood. The little girl pointed across the meadow. Violet’s gaze followed the child’s finger to the now grazing ducks on the bank.
Violet stifled a laugh as the nurse gave in to the little girl’s demands and helped her off the contrivance. The child immediately set for the ducks. The nurse, hailed by the gentleman, stopped at the lady’s carriage and did not notice the giggling, pointing child bounding over the grass.
The ducks waddled onto the dock, pecking at the scent from the left over crumbs Violet’s sisters had strewn across the edge of the wood. The child laughed, and picked up her pace. Violet saw, neither the gentleman, nor the nurse knew the little girl faced such danger.
Without thinking, Violet heaved herself to her feet, and ran down the short hill. One step too slow and the poor thing would end up in the water, gentle though it may be, still chilly in the early summer.
The ducks meandered to the edge of the dock and pecked at the stale bread. Violet realized as she drew closer, the ducks would frighten and take off, and the little girl, not old enough to realize being on the edge, she could fall headlong into the water. Violet knew she wasn’t fast enough if she ran all the way to the end of the dock. And she didn’t dare shout and frighten the child off the other side. No, she would have to catch her on this side, from the water.
Violet raced into the freezing river, her arms outstretched to catch the little girl. The ducks, hearing Violet’s splash, took off. The laughing girl ran after them. Violet’s skirts sucked at the water and dragged her back. Desperate to reach the child, her foot gained purchase on the river floor and she pushed. The little girl fell effortlessly into her arms and Violet struggled to stay upright.
The little girl smiled at her. “Imma,” she said.
Violet turned toward shore, her skirts wrapping between her legs. Standing in waist deep water, Violet reached out for the dock, only to find it out of her grasp. The skirts tangled in her legs. Violet stood, precariously frozen.
Gwynnie hobbled down the hill. The nurse and the gentleman ran across the swell in the grass. The gentleman did not even stop to take off his boots, but ran into the water, his arms outstretched for the little girl. The toddler reached for him and Violet let her go.
“My good woman, are you all right?” His eyes locked onto hers. “Words cannot express my gratitude. How may I ever repay your kindness?” He held the child in one arm and turned with his other for Violet’s hand.
She grasped his strong fingers gratefully, but her skirts still held her in place and as she placed her foot on the rocky bottom, she slipped, landing face first into the cold water. A strong arm reached about her waist and hauled her up. Sputtering for breath, Violet found herself slammed into his side, inhaling bay spice and clean cotton. Her wet dress soaked into his coat and vest. She steadied herself against his warmth and placed her arm around his back as he guided her out of the water. The little girl bounced on his other side laughing.
Gwynnie held out a shawl and wrapped it around Violet’s shoulders as the man gently tugged her to the grass.
“My dear miss, I am ever indebted to your service,” he said, his tone grave. He placed the little girl on the ground. Down on one knee, he looked the child over, gently turning her, this way, and that. Violet saw the tender care he took of his daughter, but noticed his expression did not change. His face wore a mask of rigid control.
Violet said, “It is quite all right, I assure you. I had been fretting about the heat becoming over tiring. I see now, a little dip was all I required to refresh me.” Violet smiled, trying to overcome the stranger’s penetrating gaze.
The stare he settled on her and the seriousness displayed in his mountainous grey eyes overwhelmed her. Almost as if this man saw into her soul, Violet looked away. In a small way, it mattered to her what he saw.
