Dukes By the Dozen

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, his voice slow and rich and soothing. She’d heard the head groomsman speak in such a manner to antsy horses. She had to admit, the warm strength in this man’s tone calmed her rapidly beating heart just a bit.

“Now, relax and breathe,” he murmured, “then set your feet so that I can pull you upright. You should be able to back away from the edge safely once you’ve regained your balance. Understand?”

Emmaline nodded, then realized he might not be able to see the movement through her thick velvet hood. “Y-yes,” she croaked against the pull of the cloak.

“All right,” he said, giving her a moment to brace herself. “Here we go.”

She held her breath as his slow tug righted her. When her weight shifted from the balls of her feet to her heels, she heaved a sigh of relief and took a quick step back. Then another.

And bumped into the hard chest of the stranger who’d just rescued her. The stranger whose arms now came around her to steady her. The stranger whose embrace she had the oddest urge to turn into and—

“Milady!” It seemed her maid had finally caught up. “Milady, are you all right?”

Molly’s breathless question saved Emmaline from further embarrassing herself. Whyever had she had such a thought? Gratitude, likely. That’s all. It had nothing to do with the warmth that had flooded her at the man’s unexpected touch—warmth she now missed as he lowered his arms and stepped back from her.

“I am fine,” Emmaline stated, forcing a self-deprecating laugh. “Thanks only to…” She turned, intending to face her savior then, praying he wasn’t someone she knew, lest the story be spread throughout London’s parlors by the first of this afternoon’s calls. Young ladies of gentle breeding simply didn’t find themselves in the arms of strangers, even if she’d just been trying to save—

“The puppy!” Emmaline cried, whirling back around to the lake instead. Her gaze darted up and down the shoreline, but she didn’t see the dog. She looked to the water. “There!” She pointed at the tiny head, which had drifted far from the bank. He was nearer the center of the lake now.

Emmaline brought her pinkies to the corners of her mouth, letting out a rather unladylike whistle. The pup heard her, turning its nose toward the sound. She started clapping loudly. “Here, pup. Come this way. Good pup!”

She even tossed in some kissing noises, hoping again that the man behind her—whose face she’d yet to see—had no idea who she was.

The pup started paddling in her direction.

But then its head disappeared beneath the water. Her throat clenched. She counted a good three or four beats before it bobbed back up again. The poor mite must have tired, as it seemed to struggle to stay afloat—and the dog was still too far from shore.

“He’s not going to make it,” she said under her breath, and began tugging at the fastenings of her cloak. “Molly,” she called over her shoulder. “Run back to the carriage and fetch a blanket.”

“But milady—”

“The pup is freezing. I’ll need something to wrap him in when he comes out,” Emmaline said, turning back so she could keep her eye on the dog. She’d wait to shuck her velvet cloak to the ground until after Molly departed. The maid wouldn’t go if she knew what Emmaline was planning to do. “Go!”

“But—”

“It’s all right,” came the man’s voice. “I’ll see that your mistress comes to no harm.”

Molly hesitated only a moment longer before Emmaline heard the maid’s footfalls heading away.

Emmaline dropped her cloak, eyes fastened on the dog, whose progress was slowing.

“You’re not really thinking of going in after him, are you?”

His voice came from directly beside her now. Emmaline glanced over at the man and was immediately struck by two things:

One—she’d (thankfully) never seen him before, which made it likely he didn’t know her either.

And two—he was, quite possibly, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

Her eyes traveled over his thick, chestnut hair which glinted auburn even in the weak sunlight. It had a natural lift and curl that caressed his face without being the least bit feminine. His lips were full, his jaw was both long and square, his nose sat strong and straight on his face and his deep set, hazel eyes stunned beneath impossibly thick lashes. Staring at him was like looking at a painting by an old master.

No, this man was the most beautiful human she’d ever seen.

Even more beautiful than she.

Goodness knew she didn’t mean that arrogantly. Her appearance simply was what it was, and if anyone knew what a curse beauty could be, it was Emmaline.

“Yes, I am,” she said, eyeing the floundering pup again before turning her attention to her skirts. She couldn’t as easily shed those, and they would certainly hinder her in the water. Perhaps she could pull the bottom hem between her legs and tuck—

“In that ensemble?” he scoffed, clearly thinking along the same lines as she.

Emmaline shot him a disgruntled glance, only to find him doffing his own outerwear.