slack.
Felicity clapped a hand over her mouth.
Mr. Hixon pulled Thorn’s other arm around his shoulders. Then he and the young footman struggled toward shore, burdened by the larger, unconscious man.
She must do something to help.
Fighting down her distress, Felicity rushed back to the carriage and dug out the lap robes that were usedwhen driving in cold weather. She scrambled back to the riverbank again just as her driver and footman wallowed the last few feet, burdened by the weight of their sodden clothing and the man they had rescued.
“Is he…alive?” Some superstitious dread made Felicity shrink from asking, but she had to know.
Too badly winded to do more than nod, her middle-aged driver gasped like a huge red fish landed by some angler after a hard fight. With a final great heave, he and the footman hauled Thorn onto the bank, then collapsed on either side of him, labouring for air.
“Are you sure?” Though she doubted she would receive an immediate answer, Felicity could not stop herself from asking.
As she wrapped one of the lap robes around young Ned, the boy strained to answer. “Aye…ma’am. He…retched up…a deal of…water…while we…was hauling him…ashore.”
Perhaps so, but he lay frighteningly still, now, sprawled on his belly where his rescuers had dropped him.
“Thorn, can you hear me?”
She tugged the lap robe over his shoulders and ran a caressing hand down his cheek. Side whiskers, a warmer shade of brown than his hair, softened the sharp angle of his jaw. They looked much darker, now, and tiny beads of water clung to them. The skin beneath felt frighteningly cold to Felicity’s anxious touch.
“Thorn?” Her voice grew more insistent as she shook his shoulder.
Then, as if it was the only answer he had the strength to give, more water gushed out of Thorn’s mouth. He began to choke and gasp for air. Suddenly,Felicity felt as if she, too, could breathe again. When a passing breeze chilled her cheeks, she realized they were wet with tears.
She swept the hair back from Thorn’s face with trembling fingers as she glanced toward Mr. Hixon. Her driver’s face was slowly subsiding from its alarming shade of red and each breath no longer sent a great shudder through his broad chest.
“Did you see what happened?” Felicity asked.
Of course he must, to have responded with such swift action and sound judgment.
“Aye, ma’am.” Mr. Hixon pulled the lap robe tighter around him. Whether from the water’s spring chill or the shock of what had happened, his teeth began to chatter.
“M-Mr. Greenwood rode like f-fury to catch the coach ahead of us. Then it was like he d-didn’t even see the bridge in his path. His horse turned aside and w-went over the bank. I didn’t get a good look at what went on after that, for I was t-trying to get stopped to go to his aid.”
The other carriage—of course! The shock of what had happened had driven it from Felicity’s mind. Had it been carrying Ivy and Oliver? Had Thorn been so preoccupied trying to flag them down that he hadn’t noticed the approaching bridge until it was too late?
A low moan broke from Thorn, though he did not open his eyes. Felicity thought it one of the sweetest sounds she had ever heard.
She glanced from Mr. Hixon to Ned and back again. “What you did was truly heroic. I can scarcely thank you enough, but I will make certain that you’re both well rewarded for it.”
The driver gave a rueful grin, somewhat at oddswith his shivering. “I w-wouldn’t refuse, ma’am, but I’m pleased to have been able to come to Mr. Greenwood’s assistance. He’s a fine man, Lady Lyte.”
As the young footman nodded his agreement, an unwelcome heat rose in Felicity’s face.
Of course, she knew her servants must be aware of Thorn’s comings and goings from her Bath town house. But to hear one of them allude to her relationship, even in so roundabout a manner, made her feel ashamed in a way it might not if a less
Felicity clapped a hand over her mouth.
Mr. Hixon pulled Thorn’s other arm around his shoulders. Then he and the young footman struggled toward shore, burdened by the larger, unconscious man.
She must do something to help.
Fighting down her distress, Felicity rushed back to the carriage and dug out the lap robes that were usedwhen driving in cold weather. She scrambled back to the riverbank again just as her driver and footman wallowed the last few feet, burdened by the weight of their sodden clothing and the man they had rescued.
“Is he…alive?” Some superstitious dread made Felicity shrink from asking, but she had to know.
Too badly winded to do more than nod, her middle-aged driver gasped like a huge red fish landed by some angler after a hard fight. With a final great heave, he and the footman hauled Thorn onto the bank, then collapsed on either side of him, labouring for air.
“Are you sure?” Though she doubted she would receive an immediate answer, Felicity could not stop herself from asking.
As she wrapped one of the lap robes around young Ned, the boy strained to answer. “Aye…ma’am. He…retched up…a deal of…water…while we…was hauling him…ashore.”
Perhaps so, but he lay frighteningly still, now, sprawled on his belly where his rescuers had dropped him.
“Thorn, can you hear me?”
She tugged the lap robe over his shoulders and ran a caressing hand down his cheek. Side whiskers, a warmer shade of brown than his hair, softened the sharp angle of his jaw. They looked much darker, now, and tiny beads of water clung to them. The skin beneath felt frighteningly cold to Felicity’s anxious touch.
“Thorn?” Her voice grew more insistent as she shook his shoulder.
Then, as if it was the only answer he had the strength to give, more water gushed out of Thorn’s mouth. He began to choke and gasp for air. Suddenly,Felicity felt as if she, too, could breathe again. When a passing breeze chilled her cheeks, she realized they were wet with tears.
She swept the hair back from Thorn’s face with trembling fingers as she glanced toward Mr. Hixon. Her driver’s face was slowly subsiding from its alarming shade of red and each breath no longer sent a great shudder through his broad chest.
“Did you see what happened?” Felicity asked.
Of course he must, to have responded with such swift action and sound judgment.
“Aye, ma’am.” Mr. Hixon pulled the lap robe tighter around him. Whether from the water’s spring chill or the shock of what had happened, his teeth began to chatter.
“M-Mr. Greenwood rode like f-fury to catch the coach ahead of us. Then it was like he d-didn’t even see the bridge in his path. His horse turned aside and w-went over the bank. I didn’t get a good look at what went on after that, for I was t-trying to get stopped to go to his aid.”
The other carriage—of course! The shock of what had happened had driven it from Felicity’s mind. Had it been carrying Ivy and Oliver? Had Thorn been so preoccupied trying to flag them down that he hadn’t noticed the approaching bridge until it was too late?
A low moan broke from Thorn, though he did not open his eyes. Felicity thought it one of the sweetest sounds she had ever heard.
She glanced from Mr. Hixon to Ned and back again. “What you did was truly heroic. I can scarcely thank you enough, but I will make certain that you’re both well rewarded for it.”
The driver gave a rueful grin, somewhat at oddswith his shivering. “I w-wouldn’t refuse, ma’am, but I’m pleased to have been able to come to Mr. Greenwood’s assistance. He’s a fine man, Lady Lyte.”
As the young footman nodded his agreement, an unwelcome heat rose in Felicity’s face.
Of course, she knew her servants must be aware of Thorn’s comings and goings from her Bath town house. But to hear one of them allude to her relationship, even in so roundabout a manner, made her feel ashamed in a way it might not if a less
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