Page 43 of His One and Only Lady

Bernadine held the string connected to her sailboat—complete with its sunny, yellow sail—floating at the lake’s edge. Standing on her tiptoes, she waved to her father. The welcome breeze ruffled her pink gown and her matching bonnet’s ribbon.

Somehow in the crowd teeming along the shore, he saw her and waved back.

Someone sounded a horn, and the boaters took their seats. Two men would row, and the third sat in the stern, calling directions. Mr. Rutland was rowing. No great surprise there, as Purity had already determined from his muscular build that the man was a bit of a Corinthian.

A second horn echoed, and the crowd settled into a hush of anticipation. Even Purity found her pulse beating faster than usual, her gaze fixed on Mr. Rutland’s vessel.

“Purty, I cannot see Papa anymore.”

A few of the older children had crowded the shore to float their boats as well.

“I’ll lift you up.” Somehow, Purity managed to lift Bernadine, clutching her dripping sailboat, and still balance the parasol over their heads. “You must remember to address me as Miss Mayfield, dearest.”

“Even when you’re my mama?” Her green eyes sparkled with hope.

Purity must put an end to this misunderstanding at once. With a hasty glance around, she put her mouth near Bernadine’s ear.

“Bernadine, you mustn’t say that. I cannot be your mother. Only your governess.”

“Why?”

A third, longer horn saved Purity from answering.

Amid raucous cheers from the onlookers, the boats slid forward in the water. Straightaway, two of the craft crashed into one another, sending three gentlemen into the water.

The crowd laughed, jeered, and hooted.

“Go, Papa. Go,” Bernadine cheered, waving her toy boat in the air.

In third place, Theran’s craft surged forward. Purity tried not to notice the way his muscles bunched and flexed beneath his dampened shirt each time he pulled upon the oars. His hair had fallen forward onto his forehead, giving him a roguish, boyish look.

“I do believe they might win this year,” the Countess of Mumford said near Purity’s elbow.

Purity started, her heart vaulting to her throat. Had her ladyship heard Bernadine’s innocent question?

Lord, Purity hoped not.

“Theran hasn’t participated since…” Lady Mumford’s kindly gaze shifted to Bernadine, and her ladyship arched a telling eyebrow.

Since his wife had died.

Theran must’ve loved her deeply. Which explained why he was so very angry with God.

“I want down now, please.” Bernadine wiggled and kicked her heels.

Purity lowered the child, and she ran to greet three other little girls nearby.

“How long ago?” Purity wanted to know because it might help her as governess to Bernadine.

“Three years,” Lady Mumford answered without hesitation. “Imogene was kind-hearted and sweet-tempered, though she was capable of a tongue lashing if incensed. It devastated Theran when she died shortly after returning from a visit to her father’s.”

“How awful.”

“I shan’t pretend it wasn’t, but life goes on despite what we endure. Our faith keeps us strong.” Her ladyship grew contemplative as she regarded the boats zipping across the lake. “Theran’s on the mend now, and it is delightful to see him laughing and enjoying himself once more.”

The race had come down to two boats now; the one with Mr. Rutland and another about six feet ahead. The crowd shouted encouragement to their favorites while the rowers strained to pull their craft ahead.

Keeping one eye on Bernadine, Purity shifted the parasol and smiled down at the Countess of Mumford. “Thank you, my lady, for your confidence in me. I hope I shan’t disappoint.”