Chapter 12

"Another win for the red sailboat!" Caroline laughed and rose to her feet as Lord Benning and Meg cheered their small craft across the finish line ahead of the blue one for the fourth time.

Lord Benning grinned. "I believe the red team can justifiably claim victory today."

"Agreed," Caroline said, "and I also believe it is time for you to remove yourself from the water."

Seemingly needing no further persuading, the gentleman waded the short distance to the bank and carefully set Meg on the grass before climbing out of the river. Meg took charge of both boats and began happily filling one with dandelions and the other with tiny daisies while Lord Benning dried off his feet and donned his boots.

"I've not enjoyed a lark such as that in a very long time," he said, lowering himself onto the blanket beside Caroline. "I'm very glad that you came."

"It was marvelous fun," Caroline said. The gentleman had claimed a spot at least two feet from hers, yet the blanket suddenly felt small. "I'm amazed that you found the boats and that they remain in such excellent condition."

"They were sitting at the top of the toy box in the nursery, all but begging to be taken out."

She eyed him curiously. "I confess, I had not taken you for a sailboat enthusiast, my lord. You did not often join Henry and me when we raced them in our youth."

He acknowledged her comment with a slight shrug. "I wanted to, but you and Henry were such good friends, I always felt that I was intruding."

"If I ever did anything to give you that impression, I hope you will forgive me. We never felt that way. In fact, Henry often expressed a wish that you would play with us." Regret filled her. "He thought you viewed our activities as childish."

Lord Benning shook his head, and his smile held sadness. "Magical rather than childish. I fear that I missed out on a great deal when I went off to boarding school."

"I suppose so. But you surely learned a great deal and made friends too."

"I did, and some of those chums remain my closest friends even now. But I seem to be inexplicably tied to this place. No matter my age, when I am gone from it, I yen to return."

Caroline smiled. "You love the land."

"I do. Making the most of the Farwell Estate—whether it be through increasing our milk production or developing an apple orchard or cultivating more wheat fields—fills me with immense satisfaction."

"I'm sure your efforts mean a great deal to your tenants also," she said, reflecting on the conversation she'd had with Molly and Hester at Sarah's house. "Especially with the recent wheat shortage."

"That is my hope," Lord Benning said. "I thought that last year's wheat harvest was sufficiently bountiful to feed the local community. When I learned that there remains a scarcity of flour, I had my men sow another field with wheat this spring."

"That is very good of you."

"Nonsense." He appeared surprisingly uncomfortable with the praise. "It is what any gentleman in my position would do."

"If you believe that, my lord, those old school chums you associate with must be quite remarkable."

He chuckled. "For the most part, they are commendable fellows."

Caroline thought it unlikely that any of them were as benevolent or hardworking as Lord Benning, but telling him so did not seem quite proper. Abruptly—and rather unnervingly—aware of his proximity, she looked away. Wesley remained a little farther downstream, holding fast to the net and undoubtedly awaiting further instructions. Meg's hunt for more dandelions had taken her to the other side of the tree. Shep was trailing behind her, keeping a watchful eye on her progress.

Lord Benning cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "What manner of man was Mr. Granger?" he asked. Startled by the unexpected question, Caroline turned to face him again. His dark eyes met hers, and she saw hesitation there. "If I am overstepping, I would have you tell me."

"You are not overstepping." She caught the end of her bonnet ribbons, pulling them gently so that they ran through her fingers like memories. "I never knew Fred as Mr. Granger," she said. "He was already Captain Granger when I met him."

"I beg your pardon."

She shook her head. "It is quite all right. I mention it only so you may understand that he was fully committed to the navy well before he knew me." Releasing the ribbons, she clasped her hands together. "Fred was a good man, gallant and dashing, with a wealth of adventures to share. We met at his sister's house in Whitminster. I was young and impressionable and quickly fell madly in love with him. We were married a month later and relocated to Portsmouth forthwith." She managed a strained smile. "His ship was scheduled to leave port the day after we arrived."

Lord Benning's brows came together. "Could he not order a delay? He was the captain, after all."

Caroline had asked the very same question of Fred. More than once. His unwillingness to prioritize their fledgling relationship above his ship and crew that day had been her first hint of what was to come. "He made sure that I was situated comfortably in a small house not far from the harbor," she said. "Indeed, it was so close I could see the masts of his ship coming into port from my bedroom window."

Lord Benning's frown deepened. He appeared less than impressed by her former view. "How often did he return to port?"

"Three or four times a year," she said. "He always brought me a gift from a faraway land, and he would stay at least a fortnight. Once or twice, he remained ashore for a full month."

"How old was Meg when he first saw her?"

He'd assumed that Fred had been absent at the time of Meg's birth. Unfortunately, he was correct. Caroline studied her clasped hands. Even though Meg's arrival had meant that she was no longer alone, being without a husband during her recovery period had been the most challenging time of all. Until smallpox had invaded her home.

"She was four months old." A muscle twitched in Lord Benning's jaw, but he said nothing, so Caroline continued. "He saw her a few times each year, but it wasn't until the last couple of visits that she remembered him."

"He missed out on a great deal."

"Yes." What more could she say? She had no desire to cast Fred in a poor light, but she had shed more tears than she cared to admit over his decision to love the sea above his wife and child.

Shep barked, the unexpected sound interrupting their conversation. Caroline turned her head to see the dog standing at the riverbank. He barked again, three times in succession.

"That's Shep's warning bark," Lord Benning said, already on his feet. "Where's Meg?"

Caroline swiveled, panic clutching her chest. When Meg had begun gathering wildflowers, Caroline had insisted that she not wander far from the blanket, but now there was no sign of her.

"Meg!" she shouted, scrambling upright. "Meg! Where are you?"

Benedict did not wait for a reply. "Wesley!" he yelled, racing toward the spot on the riverbank where Shep stood. "Check the water!

The young footman dropped the net he'd been holding and darted around the boulder to the water's edge. "There, my lord!" He pointed to something several yards downstream.

Caroline was almost to the riverbank when Benedict leaped into the frigid water and launched himself into the deep, fast-moving current at the center of the river. With rapid, strong strokes, he swam downstream, raising his head long enough to gain his bearings before pushing forward again.

"Opposite the scrub oak," Wesley yelled, running along the riverbank as he pointed the way. "I just saw her head."

Benedict acknowledged the shout by veering toward the other side of the river.

Caroline watched helplessly. Please, God. Her silent cries filled her heart and mind. Please save my little girl. Please let Lord Benning reach her in time. Please. Please.

The distance between Lord Benning and the scrub oak on the opposite bank steadily closed. A splash sounded, and a small arm appeared above the water.

"There!" Caroline cried.

Lord Benning lunged for the wad of sodden floral fabric floating just beyond his reach. There was a larger splash. Meg's arms and legs thrashed. Her frock billowed to the surface again. He grabbed it and pulled. Gasping and spluttering, Meg emerged from the river.

More splashing. Lord Benning pulled Meg closer, and Caroline tensed, terror capturing her lungs. Over the sound of rushing water, snatches of Lord Benning's voice reached her. He was talking to Meg. Could she hear him? Would she respond?

Lord Benning rolled onto his side, and with one arm around Meg, he began swimming directly across the river. Picking up her skirts, Caroline ran toward them. Shep followed, barking as his master reached the shallower water and struggled to his feet. They were near enough now that Caroline could hear Meg's sobs and spluttering coughs.

"Wesley!" Lord Benning yelled, swiftly fording the last few feet of water. "The blanket."

Caroline had forgotten all about the footman, but at Lord Benning's call, the young man appeared at her side, the woolen blanket she'd been sitting on moments before in his hands.

Meg raised her head from Lord Benning's shoulder. "Mam-m-ma," she cried.

"I'm here, darling." Caroline extended her arms, and Meg leaned toward her.

"Steady, little one," Lord Benning warned, shifting his foothold to compensate for her movement. He looked at Caroline. "Can you manage her?"

"Yes." She wanted to hold her daughter. To know that she was truly safe.

Lord Benning nodded, and somehow, she knew that he understood her need. Setting his hands around Meg's waist, he stretched his arms out so that Caroline could reach her sodden child. Meg fell into her arms, her small hands gripped around Caroline's neck even as her body convulsed with shivers.

Squeezing her tightly, Caroline buried her face in the little girl's wet shoulder. "Oh, Meggie." Her voice broke. "What were you thinking?"

Meg's answering whimper was all but eclipsed by the swoosh of water that accompanied Lord Benning's exit from the river.

"Remove her shoes and frock as quickly as you can," he said, ignoring his own sodden state to take the blanket from Wesley. "As soon as she's free of those sopping items, we'll wrap her in the blanket."

Releasing her hold on Meg with one hand, Caroline fumbled to unlatch her daughter's shoe. "I must take her home right away."

He shook his head. "Farwell Hall is closer. At this time of day, the kitchen will be the warmest room in the house. Wesley can go ahead of us. He can tell Cook to stoke the fire and put some milk on to warm. I daresay one of the young maids can offer us a dry shift for Meg to wear."

He'd thought of everything. Caroline felt Meg's shoe loosen and gave it a tug. It dropped to the ground. Wesley retrieved it, and Caroline reached for the next one.

"Meg, I must put you down to take off your wet frock," she said.

Meg's hold around her neck tightened. "I don't want to g-go down," she sobbed.

Caroline offered Lord Benning a helpless look. "Can we wrap her in the blanket without taking off her frock? I'm sure I can carry her as far as Farwell Hall."

An extra measure of concern filled Lord Benning's eyes. He placed a gentle hand on Meg's small back. "If your mother stays right beside us, may I be the one to carry you, Meg? I would very much like to show you the kitchen at my house."

"Th-the... kit-kitchen?" Meg's natural curiosity pushed through her chattering teeth and fears.

"Yes. It's a marvelously warm room. And unless I miss my guess, Cook was likely baking this morning."

"It's w-w-warm?"

"Yes." He held out the blanket. "Come! We shall go there straightaway."

"M-mam-ma will b-b-be there t-t-too?"

"Absolutely."

"I won't leave you, Meg," Caroline said.

For a brief moment, Meg's trusting blue eyes met hers. Then she relinquished her hold on Caroline's neck and leaned toward Lord Benning's open arms. As soon as Meg's weight was lifted from her, Caroline recognized the gift the gentleman had offered her. Fear for her daughter's well-being would have enabled her to carry Meg as far as Farwell Hall, but the journey would have claimed every ounce of strength she currently possessed.

"Hurry to the house, Wesley," Lord Benning said. "Tell Cook we shall be there shortly."

The footman took off running. Fighting back tears of gratitude, Caroline pulled off Meg's second shoe and then tucked the blanket more securely around her small daughter. Her fingers brushed against Lord Benning's, and she looked up to find him watching her.

"How can I ever thank you, Benedict?" Something undefinable flickered in his eyes, and with horror, she realized she'd used his Christian name. "Forgive me, my lord. Present extenuating circumstances notwithstanding, I should not have—"

"I wish that you would." His words cut short her apology. "I may not have been so fortunate as to associate with you as often as Henry all those years ago, but we knew each other by our given names then. It seems wrong to have adulthood or Society norms rob us of our childhood connection."

Caroline swallowed. Even though she'd often thought of him as Benedict after uncovering his identity, her use of his title during their interactions had been a constant reminder of their difference in station. It had helped keep an appropriate distance between them. It had also helped prevent her from opening her heart to a gentleman again. But her daughter was swaddled safely in his arms, and Meg would probably not have survived her fall into the river had he not acted so quickly. He had been unfailingly kind to them both, and notwithstanding her heart's warning whispers, she knew she could not refuse him this. "If it is truly what you wish," she said.

He smiled, and her heart's whispered warning redoubled. "It is." He began walking, his long legs traversing the pasture so quickly that Caroline struggled to keep up. "And in answer to your question," he continued, "I deserve no thanks. Indeed, I pray you will forgive me for monopolizing your attention so fully that neither of us noticed how close Meg was to the river."

While it was true that Caroline had rarely been so engrossed in a conversation, it was also true that she had never before felt so comfortable sharing personal memories. The startling realization should have filled her with concern, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not seem to muster that emotion. Instead, she felt safe. Emotionally and physically.

She glanced at her daughter. Meg's eyes were closed, her cheek pressed against Benedict's wet jacket. It seemed that she and Meg were of a similar mindset. For the first time since Benedict had pulled her from the water, Meg was calm and secure.

"If you will not accept my gratitude, I shall offer it to Shep," Caroline said.

Upon hearing his name, the dog trotting beside Benedict perked up its ears.

Benedict gave him an approbatory look. "I believe I shall join you."