Her heart skipped a beat.
She drew her hand away from his as the path evened out in an attempt to place some distance between them.
“Four and twenty,” he finally said. “And I would have noticed you. I am certain of it. You are not like the other ladies here.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know that you are courageous. I know that you are compassionate. At the same time, you are proper and proud. You are interesting—an intriguing combination of woman, Margaret.”
“Lady Asherton,” she corrected him. Dear God, what was wrong with her? Because she warmed at his words. They fed something in her that had felt starved for so very long. Toward the end of her marriage, she had been a friend, a confidante, and a caretaker to her husband. Lawrence had appreciated her. He had needed her. But at some point, she had ceased to feel like a woman.
The terrain leveled out and the dirt and rocks turned into an even stretch of nothing but sand. The sound of crashing waves drew her attention, tempting her to remove her shoes and wade into the surf.
“You know you want to do it. The sun is yet warm and this might be your last opportunity before the cold sets in.” His words seemed to echo her thoughts. There was no guarantee that it would be warm enough to wade in at the end of the house party, or tomorrow, even, for that matter.
Lord Rockingham had already lowered himself to a nearby rock and was removing his boots.
She had not been in the ocean, in the water, since before Lawrence passed away. Why was that? She would not remove her boots. She would not wade into the foaming waves that practically called out to her. She would wait and watch the others from a nearby boulder until everyone was tired and sandy and then she would hike back up.
Just as she went to sit down, a voice carried across the sand.
“There you are, My Lord!” Miss Drake and, behind her, a handful of other young people had emerged from the path onto the beach. “And Lady Asherton! How very brave of you to hike down before anyone else could go before you! You are so very sturdy and independent.”
And yet, her words did not feel like a compliment of any sort.
“Surely, Lord Rockingham, you do not plan on going into the water. Lady Asherton, you must talk some sense into him.” Mrs. Glenda Spencer spoke up from behind the young blonde woman. The second lady couldn’t be much older than twenty, herself, but had married into one of England’s most prominent families.
Both of the young women’s assumptions irked Margaret. She wondered that she had never found herself feeling so annoyed by such comments before attending this house party.
“I have no reason to talk Lord Rockingham into or out of anything. He is his own person and must arrive at his own decisions.”
His laughter echoed off the rocks that surrounded the cove.
“All that aside, why would Lady Asherton attempt to stop me from doing something she intends doing herself? Nothing scandalous about dipping one’s toes into the sea, last I heard.” He directed his words toward those who had just arrived, but Margaret felt as though he was daring her.
The sideways glance he slid in her direction confirmed her suspicions.
Miss Drake hugged her arms at her elbows and flicked a glance toward where the waves folded onto the sand and then bubbled and frothed before halting and then retreating.
The sea captured Margaret’s attention as well. “The summer is over, and the days are growing short,” she announced. “And I daresay that the water is like to turn one’s toes into tiny chips of ice.” She met Mrs. Spencer’s gaze, knowing Lord Rockingham was watching her. “But I daresay, this is bound to be our last opportunity this year, and I’ll simply have to take my chances.” And with that, she bent forward and began unlacing her half-boots. It had been too long. Far too long.
By the time she had removed both shoes and stockings, several of the other young people were doing so as well. A few were already frolicking at the water’s edge. A shrill cry from one of the young ladies was followed by a collection of laughter.
The ocean was relatively calm, and the sun shone warmly down from a cloudless sky. How could they not wade into the water on such a perfect day?
Sebastian could not help but appreciate the sight of the most proper Lady Asherton hitching her skirt up in order to venture into the foam of cresting waves. And then, as though lured by the sea itself, she moved farther into the surf where smaller waves crashed harmlessly before rolling to shore. A few more daring steps and the bottom half of her gown was soaked.
She didn’t seem to mind.
Raising one hand to keep her hair from covering her face as the wind whipped it out of her coiffure, she turned her back to the sea and gazed up at the cliffs. Sebastian’s breath caught. He couldn’t help but wish he had his sketchpad so that he could capture her image and perhaps some of her essence in that moment.
She grinned when she caught him watching her and at the same time, a larger set of waves came rolling into shore. Sebastian moved to call out but not in time. One rogue wave, much larger than those that had crashed before it, rose up behind her and crashed into her shoulders. An instant later, a second wave submerged her completely.
He rushed into the water toward her in case she required assistance but then breathed in relief when her face emerged. She sputtered in shock but then burst into a fit of laughter.
She reminded him of springtime—of a flower daring to bloom.
He was glad that Uncle George had not made the climb down the cliffs. She would not, Sebastian knew, have relinquished her inhibitions to swim if his uncle was present.
Others were wading into the water now, emboldened by Lady Asherton’s decision to swim, and sounds of laughter and a few coquettish screams competed with the wind and the crashing waves. He had no interest in anyone else in that moment, however. She had captivated him.
Standing beside her in water that nearly reached her shoulders, Sebastian reached out to steady her.
“It’s been too long since I last did this.” She grinned and would have been submerged again if he hadn’t placed his other hand on her waist and lifted her.
But she did not need him, really. Before he realized her intent, she had thrown her head back, closed her eyes, and floated, her hair and dress billowing in the water.
Sebastian ducked under the surface, stealthily swam a few feet and then rose up and toppled her. Her response was to send a splash in his direction and dive into the coming wave.
“Minx!” He dove after her.
She broke the surface on the other side appearing almost like a mermaid.
Until she slapped more water in his direction. “Beast!”
Nothing could tire a person out the way that a good swim could. Together they jumped with the incoming waves and gave themselves up to each surge. A few times the water drew them toward one another, even causing their bodies to collide. He’d allow his hands to remain on her person longer than necessary, and he did not think he was mistaken to think that she did the same.
Although he knew she would never admit to it.
He teased her and flirted with her. And she laughed. He wondered how long it had been since she’d last allowed herself such freedoms. When had she last played?
Only after Mrs. Spencer had announced no less than three times that they ought to return to the top of the cliffs did everyone emerge from the sea, water dripping from gowns and shirts and breeches.