"I am organizing rescue efforts using every available man and boat, though the conditions make such attempts extremely hazardous. The current is treacherous, and the wind makes navigation nearly impossible."
"We must make the attempts nonetheless. These people depend upon us for their safety, and we cannot simply wait for conditions to improve while they face mortal peril."
Her forthright declaration of intention seemed to catch him off guard, as though he had not anticipated such directengagement with what was clearly a dangerous and complicated undertaking.
"We will make every effort, naturally, but I must insist that you remain safely within the Manor during these operations. The conditions are entirely unsuitable for anyone lacking experience with such emergencies."
The suggestion that she should remain in comfort while others faced danger on behalf of her tenants struck Evangeline as both insulting and impractical, awakening the same stubborn independence that had marked her response to his attempts at intimidation during their initial encounters.
"I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but I have no intention of remaining idle while families under our protection face such dire circumstances. If there are rescue efforts to be organized, then I shall participate in whatever capacity proves most useful."
"You shall do nothing of the kind," Lucian replied with the sort of flat authority that brooked no argument. "Such work is dangerous enough for men with experience in these conditions. I will not have my wife exposed to unnecessary peril for the sake of misguided heroics."
"Misguided heroics?" Evangeline's voice rose with indignation at his characterization of her desire to assist in rescue efforts. "These are our tenants, our responsibility. How can you suggest that concern for their welfare represents anything other than appropriate duty?"
"I suggest nothing of the kind. I merely observe that good intentions are no substitute for practical experience in emergency situations. Your presence would create additional complications that we can ill afford under present circumstances."
"Additional complications? I am quite capable of following directions and making myself useful without requiring constantsupervision. You seem to forget that I managed my father's household for years, including during several emergencies that required both quick thinking and decisive action."
"Managing a modest country household is hardly comparable to organizing rescue operations in life-threatening conditions," he replied with the sort of dismissive tone that made her long to strike him. "This is not a matter for feminine interference, however well-intentioned."
The phrase 'feminine interference' struck her like a physical blow, reducing all her practical capabilities to irrelevant sentiment simply because of her sex. She had expected better from him, particularly after their recent conversations had seemed to establish some measure of mutual respect for her intelligence and competence.
"Feminine interference," she repeated with dangerous quiet. "How remarkably enlightened of you, Your Grace. I had not realised that possession of a title automatically granted one superior wisdom in all matters relating to crisis management."
"It grants one responsibility for making decisions that affect the welfare of others, including decisions about who may safely participate in potentially dangerous activities."
"And it apparently grants one the right to dismiss the capabilities of others based upon entirely irrelevant considerations. Tell me, do you suppose Mrs. Smith and her children will care whether their rescuer possesses masculine or feminine attributes, provided that rescuer proves effective in removing them from mortal peril?"
Her challenge hung in the air between them, highlighting the absurdity of his position while simultaneously establishing her determination to participate in rescue efforts regardless of his approval. She could see the conflict playing across his scarred features as duty warred with protective instincts that seemed to extend beyond mere practical considerations.
"This discussion is pointless," he said finally, though his tone suggested he recognized the weakness of his position. "I am leaving immediately to oversee rescue operations, and I expect you to remain at the Manor where you will be safe from harm."
"Then you will be disappointed in your expectations, for I have every intention of making myself useful in whatever capacity circumstances require. You may choose to waste time arguing with me, or you may choose to accept my assistance and direct it toward productive ends."
Before he could respond to her ultimatum, she swept from the estate office with the sort of regal dignity that her new position afforded, leaving him to contemplate the uncomfortable reality that his duchess possessed a will every bit as formidable as his own.
***
The sight of Evangeline departing in such magnificent defiance filled Lucian with a complex mixture of admiration, fury, and a protective terror so profound that it threatened to paralyze his ability to function effectively. She possessed the sort of courage that he had once valued so much, yet applied to circumstances that could result in her injury or death, such courage became a source of anguish rather than inspiration.
There was no time, however, to dwell upon domestic disputes when lives hung in the balance. The rescue operations required his immediate attention, and he forced himself to compartmentalize his concerns about his wife's safety in favor of addressing the more pressing needs of his trapped tenants.
***
The journey to the flooded areas of the estate proved every bit as treacherous as he had anticipated, with roads made nearly impassable by standing water and debris that had been sweptdown from the moors by the fury of the storm. The small boats that had been hastily assembled for rescue purposes were barely adequate to the task, their shallow drafts and unstable construction making navigation through the current a test of both skill and nerve.
"Your Grace," called Thompson from the lead boat as they approached the cluster of submerged cottages, "the water's rising faster than we anticipated. We'll need to move quickly if we're to reach the families before the current becomes completely unmanageable."
Lucian nodded grimly, his military training automatically assessing the tactical situation and identifying the most efficient approach to what was essentially a battlefield evacuation under adverse conditions. "Take the miller's house first—it's closest to our position and the family there includes two small children. Then the Thornfield properties, and finally the Smith cottage."
The rescue of the miller's family proceeded with the sort of grim efficiency that marked successful military operations, though Lucian was acutely conscious that his scarred appearance had a decidedly unsettling effect upon those he was attempting to save. The miller's wife, upon seeing his damaged face emerging from the gloom of the stormy morning, had actually recoiled in terror before recognizing him as her landlord rather than some supernatural apparition.
Such reactions were nothing new, yet they struck him with particular force under circumstances where his appearance should have been irrelevant compared to his function as rescuer. Even when he was risking his own life to preserve theirs, even when he represented their only hope of salvation, people still saw him first as a beast to be feared rather than a man offering assistance.
The Thornfield rescues proved more challenging, as the cottage had partially collapsed under the pressure of theflood waters, trapping the family in the upper chambers with no means of escape. Lucian was forced to navigate through the submerged ground floor, feeling his way through murky water filled with floating debris, while the structure groaned ominously around him.
"Your Grace!" Young Peter Thornfield's voice cracked with terror as Lucian's head emerged through the trap door leading to the upper floor. The boy, perhaps eight years old, pressed himself against the far wall with the sort of instinctive fear that Lucian's appearance invariably inspired in children. "Please don't hurt us!"
