Chapter Ten

T he weather on the day of the regatta was perfect as puffy white clouds rolled lazily by a blue sky and the sun shined. The air was almost abuzz with excitement as guests arrived at Boxwood Park. As Mabel dressed in her favorite amethyst colored gown, she couldn't keep a cheeky smirk off her face. It was one of those mornings where anything felt possible, and she was wholly ready to meet the day.

The countess's ability to procure blooms in quantities that should not have been feasible had extended to the country as the whole house was covered in a sea of colorful petals. It was as if every available flower in the county had been delivered that morning as the staff hurried around the house, preparing for the guests that would arrive momentarily. Luncheon would be provided outdoors during the race, and the regatta ball would be held later that night. It would be a grand affair, and some of the Trembleys' closest friends began to arrive just after breakfast to try and get a premium spot in the fish folly to watch the race.

The Combes and the Bairnsdales arrived within an hour of each other around noon. The duke and duchess were, of course, accompanied by Violet and Fredrick, dressed in their best day clothes; Mabel peered down from her room, watching them exit their carriages.

"It's a lovely day, isn't it?" she asked her sister, whose hair was plaited and pinned into an intricate style.

The wistfulness of Mabel's tone, however, seemed to catch her sister's attention.

"Lovely? You haven't described any days in this country as lovely."

"Well, today seems to be the first one," Mabel replied with a shrug, moving around the room. "The heat has diminished since leaving the city and this really is beautiful country. I think being on the banks of a river has helped."

"Indeed," Leona said, turning back to the mirror so her maid could finish her hair. "Well, hopefully, today will be better than yesterday, though it is not off to a very promising start."

"Why, whatever do you mean? Were we not just agreeing that it's a lovely day?"

Leona managed a weak smile. "It is lovely, but I'm afraid my mood is not similarly bright. Alfred brought me a bouquet of sweet peas this morning," she said, shaking her head. "I can't believe he would be so careless. Particularly after I told him how much I detest them."

"Did you?" Mabel asked, her voice slightly high.

"Yes."

"Well, I'm sure it was just an oversight," Mabel began, hoping to rectify the situation. "I believe I heard the earl say that Boxwood Park is quite famous for their sweet pea blooms. Yes, I think he even suggested to Alfred that a posy would be a thoughtful gesture."

"That may be so, but even if it was the earl's suggestion, Alfred should have told him my dislike for them. And don't think I'm not aware of what this lack of attentiveness to my tastes and preferences might signal."

Guilt dropped into Mabel's stomach.

"What is that?"

"Just what you've always told me. That when a man stops listening, trouble is afoot. After this and abandoning us for three whole nights, I have begun to question if we are suited for one another."

Shame bubbled within Mabel's chest at her sister's confession. After realizing that Leona and Alfred's relationship was genuine and that Mabel's own selfish wants had clouded her vision of their happiness, she had hoped her and Derek's meddling would pass without consequence. But had they been too late in calling off their agreement? Had they already done too much damage to the relationship of their siblings?

"And yet," Leona started again, gaining Mabel's attention. "The only dream I have of a life without him is a nightmare. I do love him so, but I fear I'm perhaps the only one who feels so deeply."

"There, there," Mabel said, coming to her side. "I'm sure he loves you equally. These past few days have merely been a hiccup of sorts."

Leona peeked up at her sister.

"Do you really think so?"

Mabel bobbed her head earnestly.

"Yes, of course. And I'm sure from this day forward, Alfred will be nothing less than perfect when it comes to your relationship."

Leona stood up.

"How can you be so sure?"

Mabel couldn't tell her it was because she and Derek wouldn't be interfering anymore. Instead, she only smiled brightly.

"Because, I just am."

"I don't know what I would do without you, Mabel. I'm so grateful you are here. And I dread the day you'll leave for good."

Mabel gave her a tight hug before releasing her as they left her room. As much as she would miss her sister, she realized that returning to the States was the only thing she could do, particularly after last night.

As much as she hated the thought of leaving her sister behind, Mabel knew the only place Derek Trembley belonged was an ocean away from her. She simply wouldn't be able to help herself otherwise. No. She would take her leave the day after her sister was married.

Yet, as she followed her sister down the staircase to greet the Combes and the Bairnsdales, she wondered if she would be able to forget him, even once they were far apart. Every memory she had of the earl seemed to be her favorite thing to replay at night, and she worried she would never truly rid herself of Derek's image.

Shaking the thought from her mind, Mabel greeted the duke and duchess.

"Your graces," she said with a low curtsy. "A pleasure to see you again."

"I wish you wouldn't stand on formalities," Clara said, coming forward. She took Mabel and Leona by the arm, coming between the two. "We are nearly family. Come, let me introduce you both to everyone."

"Oh, um, perhaps just Leona should go with you," Mabel tried to pull away.

"Why is that?"

"Well, she's going to be a part of this world very shortly and I think she should be the center of attention." Mabel waved her free hand in the air. "I think it would be good for her."

"But aren't you going to be with her? Where are you going?" Clara asked.

"I'll be returning to America just after the wedding takes place."

The duchess's face fell slightly.

"So soon?"

"Yes. My father is expecting me to return promptly with a full report of Leona's happiness," Mabel said.

"Still, that shouldn't deter you from meeting everyone. On the contrary, it would help fill out your report to him. Come."

Without a viable excuse to remove herself from introductions, Mabel allowed the duchess to escort her out of the house and down the broad front steps of Boxwood. Across the drive, in between the curved hedgerows, were several blue and white striped tents set up by the servants.

Elegant ladies and gentlemen, dressed in their absolute best day clothes, mingled, and glided across the lawn as an air of enthusiasm buzzed through the crowd. The chance to gamble, even on rowing, seemed to be at the forefront of everyone's excitement. Mabel herself was eager to gather information on whom she should place her bet. She considered seeking out Derek to ask his opinion, but then she hesitated, feeling unsure about approaching him.

Having shared what they had last night, Mabel wasn't certain how he would behave upon seeing her. Would he be happy to see her, or would he rather keep her at a distance? She could understand both. Still, it wasn't up to her to discern Derek's thoughts or to determine his actions. Perhaps he would act like nothing happened. That would probably be the best thing to do, but then the image of his bare forearms cased in the moonlight made her shiver. She had touched him, held him close to her as he…

She swallowed and closed her eyes as Leona and the duchess spoke about the loveliness of all the seasonal flowers growing along the hedges. Mabel sighed. She needed to force herself to feel neutral about the situation. Otherwise, she was liable to make a fool of herself.

Why did she care, though? Derek was not anyone to her, and yet, even as she thought it, she knew that wasn't exactly true. She wasn't sure when it happened, but somewhere between first meeting the earl and last night, she realized that Derek had become someone she cared for.

As Mabel peered across the crowded lawn, she saw the fish folly packed with guests. To think, only a few hours ago, she had been there with Derek, in a state of blissful frenzy. Why, it was enough to make even Mabel blush. It had been an outrageous thing to do, to make love out in the open like that, but they hadn't been able to help themselves.

Glancing at Leona, Mabel knew that even without this latest scandalous act on her part, she had already tainted her sister with her marred reputation. Even after she left, Mabel would be remembered as some sort of harlot, thanks to her bold manners and history of divorce. And while money and position awaited her in Philadelphia, this was an entirely different world, and Leona would have to deal with their rigid morals and standards. The least Mabel could do for her sister was not to make things worse in the little time she had left in England.

"Miss Meadows?" A familiar male voice called to her, shaking Mabel from her thoughts. Turning, she saw Mr. Bentley beaming at her as he came forward. "I'm so glad to see you again."

"Mr. Bentley," she said, mirroring his smile. "A pleasure indeed."

"Your grace, Miss Leona," he said, bowing to the others before returning to Mabel. "Would you allow me to escort you to the river's edge? I believe we'll have a fine view of the race when it comes by."

"Of course. Perhaps you can help me choose which team to bet on."

"Oh, I'm not very good at betting, I'm afraid," he said as they left the others' company and headed across the flat lawn to the carefully manicured slope. "I must say, I was worried that you would not appear today."

"Why is that?"

"Though it has been a week since we last spoke to one another, I had become convinced that I had dreamt you up. I was so pleased to see you exit the house just now with the duchess and your sister."

It was a sweet thing to say, and the blush on the crest of his cheeks proved that he was sincere, which made Mabel feel oddly abashed. Her flirting with Mr. Bentley had evidently caused the young man to develop an infatuation. Mabel had only meant to have some fun, but it seemed he had interpreted their relationship differently.

"Oh, Mr. Bentley, that is a kind thing to say," she said gently. "But I assure you, I am no dream."

"I disagree," he said earnestly, following her across the bridge that led to the folly. Several ladies and gentlemen were there. "I see your face every time I lay down."

Oh dear.

"Please, Mr. Bentley—"

"Ah, Miss Meadows," Lord Nesby said, his stare roaming over her in the same, obvious way he had done so at the red tulip ball. "What a pleasure. Come, nephew, bring our American friend closer. This is a fine spot from which to witness the race."

It wasn't lost to Mabel that they were all standing in the exact spot where she and Derek had been last night. Just the idea of it began to make her feel warm.

"Lord Nesby," she said with a head bob. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"Ah, uncle," Mr. Bentley said, his brow knit together. "I didn't expect to see you here." He glanced over his shoulder across the river. "Are you not hosting an event today as well?"

"Yes, I am," he said, his steady gaze on Mabel. "But I thought I'd be neighborly before the event. Besides, I was hoping to speak with Miss Meadows."

"Oh?" Mabel said. "What about, my lord?"

He leered at her, and for some reason, the prickling of doubt settled in her spine. Something was not right.

"It is a private matter, I'm afraid," he said as he glanced over the crowd. "Nephew, why don't you go and fetch me something to drink, so that I might have a private word with our Miss Meadows."

He seemed hesitant at first, but then Mr. Bentley nodded.

"Of course. Would you like something, Miss Meadows?"

"No, thank you," she said, unsure what Lord Nesby wished to speak to her about.

After Mr. Bentley disappeared through the crowd, the older gentleman leaned in and spoke so softly that no one but Mabel could hear.

"A nice lad, he is. But not quite worldly."

Mabel tilted her head.

"Worldly, my lord?"

"Yes. He's a gentle sort, not really aware of what sort of company to keep or what company to avoid."

Vaguely aware of what he was implying, Mabel steeled her spine as she pushed her shoulders back. She stepped forward to gaze out over the river as a warning began to beat through her. Her hand fell to the railing, almost as if to brace herself.

"Why, Lord Nesby, that almost sounds as if you were implying something."

"Oh, come now Miss Meadows," he said, leering at her. "There's no need to be coy with me. A lady of your…history, shall we say? It isn't so very surprising that you would start an affair with the earl."

Mabel's eyes went wide as her insides turned to ice.

"Excuse me?" she breathed.

"My dear, there's no reason to sound so worried," he said as his meaty, short-fingered hand crossed over hers on the rail. "It was rather, exciting, in a plebian sort of way, watching you two last night. In this very spot."

Mabel tried to drag her hand away, but before she could, his stubby fingers gripped her wrist firmly. She leaned heavily onto the metal rail.

"Easy, my dear. I'm simply interested in offering you a similar experience."

"Absolutely not—"

"Ah, I wouldn't be so quick to answer, Miss Meadows," he said lowly. "We wouldn't want rumors to go around about what I saw. Would we?"

Fury, like she had only experienced with Pascal, flooded her veins. Whirling around, Mabel opened her mouth to tell Nesby precisely what he could do with his proposal when the brick cracking suddenly sounded. Mabel yelled out, surprised that her entire body tipped forward as she toppled over the broken railing and into the water.

SPLASH!

The instant submergence of the cool water was panic-inducing enough, but the rushing river was dragging her downstream, and the weight of her dress would not let her surface. Frantic, she tried to claw through the running water to the surface as muddled sunlight edged with dark waters clouded her vision, but the river was too swift.

Kicking her legs, she tried to find something beneath her to push off, but her skirts were too heavy and made it nearly impossible to move.

This was it. She was going to die. Unable to keep her mouth from opening, her lips instinctively parted, trying to draw air into her lungs, but she only inhaled water, which caused her to cough as the icy water filled her lungs.

Blackness edged her vision, as if her mind were swimming itself, but then the next thing she knew, she was violently slammed back into reality. She barely had a moment to realize that she had somehow been removed from the water before her lungs seized as the muscles in her body contracted. Sharp, painful breaths coursed through her chest as she coughed up water. She could hear shouting and distant voices. A woman crying? But the deep, centering voice of Derek was close to her ear.

"Mabel? Mabel," he repeated, an urgency in his tone. "Can you hear me?"

The darkness that had engulfed her faded away as the world seemed to solidify around her again, her mind gradually sharpening out of its fear-filled daze. What had happened? It felt like she was waking from an hours-long nap. Only she was drenched to the bone.

Mabel blinked several times before her brain was able to understand her surroundings. Above her, staring over her, was a shadow of a man's silhouette outlined by the warm sun. She squinted as her lungs contracted, causing her to cough some more.

"D-Derek?" she sputtered, gasping once more for air.

"God above," he said, as he held her tightly to his chest.

She was halfway across the yard before she realized she was being carried by Derek, who was just as soaking wet as she was. Had he jumped in the river to pull her to safety? She coughed into his chest as the warm touch of his mouth pressed softly on her temple. Was she dreaming that? Indeed, she must be, because he would hardly be so brazen as to kiss her in front of witnesses.

"I…I fell," she said as she scanned beyond his shoulder. Mortification dawned on her as she realized that all the guests were watching her being carried into the house.

"Blasted railing," he spat. Mabel's hand gripped his coat, hoping to distract him from his anger. Sensing her anxious nerves, he spoke softly. "Easy, love. I don't want you to worry. You were unconscious for several minutes."

"Was I?"

"Shh," he cooed as the servants rushed to open every door. "Have the doctor come up at once," he spoke to everyone and no one in particular as he climbed the stairs. A herd of maids followed them, carrying towels and kettles to fill the bath with steaming water.

Everyone was moving so quickly. When they reached Mabel's bedroom, Derek brought her to the yellow silk chaise and gingerly set her down.

"Oh no," she said softly. "I'll ruin it."

"Hush," he said as Juliette came forward.

He peeled off his wet coat as Mabel's maid fussed over her, demanding to know what had happened.

"Mademoiselle! Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?"

"Elle est tombée dans la riviere," Derek said, causing Mabel and Juliette to look up. Noticing their glances, he paused in his undress. "What?"

"You speak French?"

"Of course," he said as if she had just stated that the sky was blue. He addressed Juliette. "She needs to undress, or she'll catch a cold."

"Oui," Juliette said quickly, as she put her hands on Derek's chest, trying to make him leave the room. "Vous devez partir maintenant."

"No—"

"Absolument."

"But—"

"She won't help until you're gone," Mabel said just as Leona appeared.

"Mabel!" she said, rushing toward her, nearly bumping into the earl's shoulder. "I couldn't get through the crowd. Are you all right?"

"Yes—"

"She can't be sure," Derek interrupted. "She's not seen a doctor yet. And she needs to get into the bath."

"Then let's hurry," Leona said, reaching for Mabel's dress, but Juliette only glared at the earl.

"Sortez," she said, pointing toward the door.

Derek's mouth flattened into a hard line, and he glared back at the maid, but his amber-flecked brown eyes flickered at Mabel. As if waiting for a signal from her, Mabel gave him a short nod.

"Very well," he said to the maids. "I want a fire started and for that water to be hot. Have her out of there before the doctor arrives."

A series of "yes sirs" followed him as he stalked out of the room.

"Ce comte est un problème," Juliette said as she assisted Mabel to her feet while Leona helped undress her.

"Yes," Mabel said, her gaze on the door. "He certainly is trouble."