Dripping from head to toe, he climbed out of the fountain and turned to her, his hand extended in a reluctant offer of aid.
Margaret hesitated, but her sodden skirts and bruised pride left her little choice. She reached for his hand, and he pulled her up with far more strength than gentleness. Her damp slipper slipped against the wet stone, sending her forward into his chest with an audible splat.
“Steady,” he grunted, holding her briefly before setting her upright and stepping back.
At least her hair was no longer tangled in his buttons, she thought, though the rest of her was a wretched sight. She could feel the chill of the night air on her soaked dress, clinging unpleasantly to her skin.
The gentleman wrung water from his sleeves, his jaw set tightly as he surveyed the state of his ruined attire. He was soaked through, and his irritation seemed to deepen with every passing second.
“You need to start paying attention to what directions you walk in, madam,” he said brusquely, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“It’sLady Margaret,” she corrected, the words clipped. Her pride was fraying by the second.
“You were walking backwards like a child,” he shot back, his dark eyes flashing. “And now you’ve got us both soaked to the bones,LadyMargaret.”
Margaret bristled at his emphasis, her hands tightening on the folds of her wet dress. She opened her mouth to respond, but he had already moved on, examining his drenched jacket and trousers with a scowl. He yanked the jacket off, muttering under his breath, and held it assessingly to the light .
Her gaze faltered as she caught sight of the contours of his chest beneath the damp linen of his shirt. The fabric clung scandalously, outlining a physique that seemed carved from marble. Her cheeks flamed, but she couldn’t quite force herself to look away. He, meanwhile, appeared entirely oblivious to her discomfort.
“I beg your pardon,” Margaret snapped, wrenching her gaze upward to meet his face, “but you foundmeout here first, sir. I was minding my own business by the fountain when you appeared uninvited.”
His brow arched as he fixed her with a steady gaze. “You cannot possibly know that.”
“Idoknow,” she retorted, drawing herself up despite her sodden state.
“Do you?” he asked, his tone deceptively mild. Then, with a pointed lift of his chin, he said, “What flowers lined the pathway to the fountain, then?”
Margaret blinked, the unexpectedness of the question stealing her retort. “What has that got to do with?—”
“Just answer the question, Lady Margaret,” he cut in, his tone carrying a note of challenge.
She frowned, searching her memory for any detail that might bolster her claim. But she came up empty. Her mind had been elsewhere entirely when she’d wandered into the garden.
Her silence stretched, and she could see the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
For once, Margaret Sutton had no immediate response.
In fact, she hadn’t realized she’d been walking backward while tracing the fountain until he mentioned it just now. The weight of her mortification burned hot across her cheeks.
“I—I don’t remember...” she stammered, hating how utterly pathetic and childish she sounded.
He arched a brow, his expression infuriatingly smug. “My point exactly. This proves beyond doubt that you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. For all you know, I could have been out here first.”
Margaret opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand as though already anticipating her arguments. “Don’t bother. I’ve logic and reason on my side. You’ve nothing but your obvious lack of awareness.”
His tone, cool and condescending, left her floundering for a suitable retort. To her dismay, he seemed right—he was armed with infallible reasoning, and even she could admit, albeit silently, that her distraction had caused the incident.
“And despite all this,” he added, his voice filled with self-satisfaction, “I still helped you out of the fountain. You should be grateful.”
“I beg your pardon?” Margaret cried .
“Yes, grateful,” he repeated, utterly unaffected by her tone.
Her hands fisted the damp folds of her dress. “Perhaps you should push me back into the fountain and abandon me there, sir! Then we would be even, and I would owe you nothing!”
“Oh, do not tempt me, Lady Margaret,” he said dryly, his gaze narrowing.
Margaret felt her mouth drop open, stunned by his audacity. The worst part was he looked as though he might actually do it. His manners were positively atrocious! Courtesy, she was certain, was a foreign concept to him.
