Pinching her nose, she took a breath and buckled at the knees. She sank below the water, the icy cold stinging her face, and propelled herself upward again, coughing and spluttering as she surfaced. Exhilaration made her heart race and her lips curve into a wild grin, the thrill far more potent than her fear.
“That is what I would call a beginning,” she said gleefully, relishing in the cool breeze that chilled the water on her skin. The perfect medicine to remove what was left of the heat and sweat of the day.
Satisfied and feeling rather pleased with herself, Matilda waded back out of the water, threw a dry blanket around herself, and headed for the steps. In her heart, she was already eager to tell Albion of her triumph over dinner. He would be encouraging though it was only a small speck of progress; she was certain of that.
Maybe, it would be enough of a joint triumph to warrant an embrace at the very least.
Clinging to the old rope that provided some support on the slippery steps upward and daydreaming of Albion’s lips and strong arms, her bare feet were aching by the time she reached the top, protesting how fervently she had used them to grip the worn stone. Her shoes were on the grass by the topmost step, but she did not bother to put them on, merely tucking them under her arm as she pressed on toward home.
Home…It had begun to feel like it.
She could not mark when the change had happened, but she suspected it had a lot to do with the summer house and the beach and the hard-won familiarity she now had with the manor. Andhim. She could not diminish her husband’s part in making Whitecliff feel like somewhere she could belong though there had been mistakes on both sides along the way.
Breaking through the woodland onto the sprawling lawns of the manor, Matilda halted. Her brow furrowed, struggling to assess the strange sight before her.
The entire household was outside on the driveway with someone calling out instructions that Matilda could not quite hear. A few of the individuals—presumably from the stables—were on horseback. And to her dismay, she found that the Dowager was among them. Was it a game that she had not been invited to join?
Puzzled, she continued on toward them.
As she neared, the man calling out instructions—the manor’s butler—stopped mid-sentence. “Your Grace!” he cried. “Thank goodness, she has been found!”
The Dowager whirled around, shooting a nasty look in Matilda’s direction.
“Been found?” Matilda replied with an awkward laugh, ignoring the Dowager. “I was not aware that I was missing.”
Just then, a figure charged out of the manor in a state of undress, wearing only a shirt and trousers, his eyes dazed as if he had recently been asleep.
“She has been found?” Albion asked.
Matilda raised her hand. “I am right here. What is the to-do?”
Albion whipped around at the sound of her voice and did not slow his pace as he ran right up to her, sweeping her into his arms. The servants made a show of looking away, but a few giggling maids kept watch out of the corners of their eyes.
“Thank the heavens,” Albion whispered into her shoulder, his breath hot and frantic.
Matilda could not resist holding onto him, even if she had no notion of what was going on. The satisfaction of seeing the Dowager’s face turn an ugly shade of purple was not to be disregarded, either.
“I told you she would not have wandered far,” the Dowager spat. “You have made a fool of yourself.”
Albion glared at her. “No, you said you’d seen a carriage pass the Dowager House. You came to me, screaming that you were certain she’d left the estate.” He waved a hand. “I wouldn’t have mounted a search party if you hadn’t.”
“Well, I thought Ididsee a carriage,” his mother retorted, the purple of her cheeks paling in an instant, her eyes looking everywhere but at the couple. “I am certain I heard one, at least.”
Albion slipped his arm around Matilda’s waist, showing a united front as he continued to aim his anger at his mother. “You did this on purpose. You were tired of your exile, so you thought you’d stir up a wasp’s nest.”
“Of course not!” his mother shot back. “How could I have conjured such a lie at the very moment that that womanhaddisappeared from where she was supposed to be? I heard a carriage. I thought she had fled. I will not apologize for trying to protect the reputation of this family.”
Albion rolled his eyes. “If you did apologize, I think I’d keel over from the shock of it.”
A few servants stifled laughter, gaining barbed looks from the Dowager.
“Where were you?” Albion glanced at Matilda, relief and something else, something like fear or fury, flickering in his eyes.
Matilda swallowed, a pinch of guilt catching in her chest. “I… went to the beach. It was hot, I was in a foul mood, I needed to rid myself of the discomfort, so I went there. I was going to ask you to join me, but I knew you were occupied with your work.”
“I suppose that explains why you’re soaked,” he murmured. “Didn’t I tell you not to go there alone?” There was a hard edge to his voice that reminded her of bygone weeks when even civility between them had seemed unlikely.
Matilda cringed, shivering a little. “I thought that was more of a suggestion.” She offered an apologetic smile to the servants. “I am sorry to have caused you all any trouble. I am sure you can all understand how single-minded one can be when they are roasting like a chicken in the oven.”
