Page 36 of A Provincial Peer

“You are not overstepping.” She caught the end of her bonnet ribbons, pulling them gently so that they ran through her fingers like memories. “I never knew Fred as Mr. Granger,” she said. “He was already Captain Granger when I met him.”

“I beg your pardon.”

She shook her head. “It is quite all right. I mention it only so you may understand that he was fully committed to the navy well before he knew me.” Releasing the ribbons, she clasped her hands together. “Fred was a good man, gallant and dashing, with a wealth of adventures to share. We met at his sister’s house in Whitminster. I was young and impressionable and quickly fell madly in love with him. We were married a month later and relocated to Portsmouth forthwith.” She managed a strained smile. “His ship was scheduled to leave port the day after we arrived.”

Lord Benning’s brows came together. “Could he not order a delay? He was the captain, after all.”

Caroline had asked the very same question of Fred. More than once. His unwillingness to prioritize their fledgling relationship above his ship and crew that day had been her first hint of what was to come. “He made sure that I was situated comfortably in a small house not far from the harbor,” she said. “Indeed, it was so close I could see the masts of his ship coming into port from my bedroom window.”

Lord Benning’s frown deepened. He appeared less than impressed by her former view. “How often did he return to port?”

“Three or four times a year,” she said. “He always brought me a gift from a faraway land, and he would stay at least a fortnight. Once or twice, he remained ashore for a full month.”

“How old was Meg when he first saw her?”

He’d assumed that Fred had been absent at the time of Meg’s birth. Unfortunately, he was correct. Caroline studied her clasped hands. Even though Meg’s arrival had meant that she was no longer alone, being without a husband during her recovery period had been the most challenging time of all. Until smallpox had invaded her home.

“She was four months old.” A muscle twitched in Lord Benning’s jaw, but he said nothing, so Caroline continued. “He saw her a few times each year, but it wasn’t until the last couple of visits that she remembered him.”

“He missed out on a great deal.”

“Yes.” What more could she say? She had no desire to cast Fred in a poor light, but she had shed more tears than she cared to admit over his decision to love the sea above his wife and child.

Shep barked, the unexpected sound interrupting their conversation. Caroline turned her head to see the dog standing at the riverbank. He barked again, three times in succession.

“That’s Shep’s warning bark,” Lord Benning said, already on his feet. “Where’s Meg?”

Caroline swiveled, panic clutching her chest. When Meg had begun gathering wildflowers, Caroline had insisted that she not wander far from the blanket, but now there was no sign of her.

“Meg!” she shouted, scrambling upright. “Meg! Where are you?”

Benedict did not wait for a reply. “Wesley!” he yelled, racing toward the spot on the riverbank where Shep stood. “Check the water!

The young footman dropped the net he’d been holding and darted around the boulder to the water’s edge. “There, my lord!” He pointed to something several yards downstream.

Caroline was almost to the riverbank when Benedict leaped into the frigid water and launched himself into the deep, fast-moving current at the center of the river. With rapid, strong strokes, he swam downstream, raising his head long enough to gain his bearings before pushing forward again.

“Opposite the scrub oak,” Wesley yelled, running along the riverbank as he pointed the way. “I just saw her head.”

Benedict acknowledged the shout by veering toward the other side of the river.

Caroline watched helplessly. Please, God. Her silent cries filled her heart and mind. Please save my little girl. Please let Lord Benning reach her in time. Please. Please.

The distance between Lord Benning and the scrub oak on the opposite bank steadily closed. A splash sounded, and a small arm appeared above the water.

“There!” Caroline cried.

Lord Benning lunged for the wad of sodden floral fabric floating just beyond his reach. There was a larger splash. Meg’s arms and legs thrashed. Her frock billowed to the surface again. He grabbed it and pulled. Gasping and spluttering, Meg emerged from the river.

More splashing. Lord Benning pulled Meg closer, and Caroline tensed, terror capturing her lungs. Over the sound of rushing water, snatches of Lord Benning’s voice reached her. He was talking to Meg. Could she hear him? Would she respond?

Lord Benning rolled onto his side, and with one arm around Meg, he began swimming directly across the river. Picking up her skirts, Caroline ran toward them. Shep followed, barking as his master reached the shallower water and struggled to his feet. They were near enough now that Caroline could hear Meg’s sobs and spluttering coughs.

“Wesley!” Lord Benning yelled, swiftly fording the last few feet of water. “The blanket.”

Caroline had forgotten all about the footman, but at Lord Benning’s call, the young man appeared at her side, the woolen blanket she’d been sitting on moments before in his hands.

Meg raised her head from Lord Benning’s shoulder. “Mam-m-ma,” she cried.