Page 54 of A Single Obsession
If she had fallen of her own doing, she would have laughed—but this was no accident. She had been knocked off balance on purpose, and she was fuming.
Though tempted to yank the ungrateful woman in after her, Eliza managed, with some difficulty, to control her temper. It soothed her somewhat when she saw, from her undignified position, that she had doused her rival with enough cold water to wipe the smile off her face.
Finch left the horses with Harriet’s groom and darted across the stream to Eliza’s rescue, whilst Beau headed toward her from the opposite direction.
Beau reached her first. Without thinking of his boots or his clothes, he jumped down into the cold water, splashing Harriet all over again. She squealed, but he ignored her, giving Eliza all his attention.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, holding out his hand toward her.
She heard the concern in his voice and grinned as she allowed him to pull her to her feet. “No, just wet.”
“No point in using the stones now,” he said with a chuckle.
“None at all.”
They waded back across the stream to where the horses were tethered.
Eliza gazed down at her sodden riding habit. She thought wistfully that it was a shame its first outing had been so eventful. It would probably never look the same again.
Although the soaking had not been her fault, she knew she was not blameless. She had crowed to herself about Beau’s preference for her and taken unholy pleasure in leaving Harriet behind on the far side of the stream.
And she had put on the new habit out of vanity, hoping Beau would admire her.
If her father saw her now, he would give her one of his you should have known better looks and remind her that pride comes before a fall.
Words Eliza knew she would do well to remember.
Chapter 24
Beau’s thoughts were not so profound. He was struggling to think of anything except how attractive Eliza looked. He studied her face. Despite her recent wetting, her pale blue eyes hadn’t lost their sparkle. Then his gaze dropped to her riding habit, and he gulped hard. The damp scarlet material clung to her slim figure, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else.
Conscious he was staring at her, he glanced away. Eliza’s groom was doing his best to help a semi-hysterical Miss Whitlow to use the stepping stones to return to dry land.
Beau closed his eyes to regain his composure. He abhorred over-emotional females.
When he reopened them, they fell on Eliza again, who stood, peacefully dripping by her horse, waiting for her groom to finish his rescue.
Beau frowned. She would catch cold if she remained any longer. Could Miss Whitlow think of no one but herself?
Stooping, he cupped his hand, ready to assist Eliza mount.
“I’m afraid it will be a soggy lift. Wouldn’t you rather leave it to Finch?”
“I’m so wet already, it won’t make any difference.”
She eyed his damp garments and chuckled. “I think you may be right.”
Without further argument, Eliza placed her foot in his hand and with the slightest pressure on his shoulder, despite her sodden state, she let him raise her until she was seated on her saddle.
Miss Whitlow coughed loudly. Now she had been rescued, she stood by her horse, looking, he had to admit, rather magnificent, with her nostrils flaring and her eyes ablaze.
But Beau was not attracted to her in the least. He could not forget her scheming or the hysterics he had just witnessed. He needed to distance himself from this woman as much as possible and refused to respond to the implicit summons. Instead, he nodded to her groom to help his mistress.
Without waiting for Miss Whitlow, Beau mounted Jet and with a nod to Eliza, they headed back the way they’d come. As his stallion broke into a canter, her mare did likewise, and they rode back to the house together.
He suspected that awful woman had pushed Eliza into the stream on purpose, out of spite because she was jealous. Yet another reason he wanted nothing to do with her.
If he had gone to her rescue as he had intended before Eliza forestalled him, would she have pushed him in too? Probably.
