Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 05] (8 page)

For men like her hero existed only in the world of fantasy and imagination. None was flesh and bone. And even if such a man existed, he wouldn’t want the likes of her. Her mind drifted back to the masked rescuer.
Would they meet again? If so, how? Even though she knew it was based in fantasy, her heart warmed toward him.

If I can get closer
,
what will I find?
she wondered.

Suddenly she very much wanted to find out.

S
ighing, Abigail pushed away all thoughts of the masked hero from her mind as she watched Seth and Felix struggle with the kite. Nary a breath of wind could be felt, and the boys were having a difficult time of it.

The yellow kite sputtered to the grass.

“It’s my turn!” Seth squealed.

Running toward the kite, Felix twirled the string around the wooden spool. “You gave it a go and failed. It’s too hard. If I can’t get it up, you certainly can’t.”

“Lord Steele said it would fly! I wanna try again!”

Lord Steele hadn’t actually said it, he’d written it on the note that he’d left with the kite. It would have been nice if he’d joined the boys in trying out their new toy, but Abigail supposed he was busy with the demands of his very important position. He’d certainly been too occupied to take meals with the boys, something she hoped would change now that Benbrook was gone.

Working the string, Felix snarled. “This is a stupid waste of time!”

Seth grabbed at the kite.

Felix shoved it at his brother. “Fine, take it!”

Noting that the two footmen standing near the boys were staying out of the situation, Abigail straightened. “Why don’t we try a new strategy?”

Felix turned her way. “It’s broken. It won’t work.”

“Lord Steele wouldn’t give us a broken kite!” Seth cried, his lower lip quaking perilously. “He wouldn’t do that!”

“No, he certainly wouldn’t.” Abigail rose and approached the boys. The sun was so bright, she had to squint beneath the shade of her bonnet. “In this weather you need to work together. You need a really fast runner to get the string far forward, and you need someone to hold the kite off the ground and give it a good shove into the air.”

“I can do that!” Seth exclaimed, brightening. “I can shove, I can shove!”

Felix raised a brow as if trying to decide if this was some sort of ploy.

“Give it a try and you’ll see,” Abigail urged.

Felix adjusted the string. “Fine. But you’ll have to keep up, Seth, otherwise you need to let go so as not to tear the kite.”

Seth nodded. “I’ll keep up. I’ll keep up.”

The boys gave it another try, this time with Felix running forward with a swath of uncoiled string and Seth following far behind holding the kite high above his little head. Miraculously, a slight breeze gusted just at that moment and the yellow kite swung aloft in an unsteady arc.

Seth shouted with glee, racing behind the strug
gling kite. Felix’s face was locked in concentration, but a smile played on his lips as he swung and angled the spool. The kite labored to gain loft, dropping suddenly, then sweeping up high into the air.

“Well done!” Abigail cried, clapping her hands. She had never actually flown a kite herself, but she’d had a notion of how it was supposed to work and had guessed that coordination might be a good idea. Thank heavens she’d been right! Her heart warmed with joy for the boys.

Seth and Felix raced off, intent on maintaining their success. The two footmen followed close behind. Abigail relaxed back into the bench, a feeling of contentment sweeping over her.

Felix and Seth moved back and forth on the grass, the breeze now blowing more steadily, making the boys and everyone in the park breathe more easily.

After a time Seth grew bored, his eyes veering away from the kite toward the flock of ducks congesting the shores of the pond.

“Would you like to feed the ducks?” Abigail called to Seth.

Nodding excitedly, the young lad raced over. “Yes!”

Abigail reached under her bench to the bag of old bread she’d taken from the kitchen. Seth and the burly footman Claude approached.

“I like your bonnet,” Seth commented, reaching up and touching one of the round pale yellow beads adorning the brown cotton.

“Thank you, Seth.” It had been an expensive indulgence at the time, but Abigail had been at a low point, alone for Christmas Eve and feeling a bit piti
ful. She loved wearing the bonnet. It made her feel fashionable, if only slightly.

“I’ll take him to the ducks,” Claude offered. “Why don’t you keep an eye on Felix in case he needs help with the kite, Miss West?”

Abigail nodded. “Very well. Please don’t let Seth too near the water.”

“No, Miss West, I wouldn’t allow that.” Claude passed the bag of bread to Seth and pointed. “We’ll go to that bridge over there.”

Abigail looked to where he motioned. A stone bridge arched over a tributary leading to the pond. A group of ducks swarmed beneath the bridge as a cluster of children stood at the top of the bridge tossing down crumbs. “Very well.”

Claude took Seth’s hand, and together they walked toward the stone bridge. Abigail watched them until they were situated near the ducks, then she turned her attention to Felix once more.

Abigail enjoyed watching Felix master the kite, but worried about him being out in the sun for so long. Reaching beneath her bench, she grasped the flask of water she’d brought and stood.

It took only a little bit of negotiating to get Felix to drink while Abigail held the spool. The kite fluttered and pulled, and Abigail watched it, nervous that she might ruin Felix’s hard work. Yet she managed quite ably and was a bit sad to hand the spool back to Felix once more.

It had been great fun, if only for a moment, and Abigail regretted that she had been so worried that she hadn’t enjoyed it more.

After ensuring that Foster would stay with Felix,
Abigail walked toward the stone bridge, trying to pick out Seth in the small crowd of adults and children clustered on top of it.

Suddenly a small cry rang out and a child fell from the bridge into the water with a great splash. Abigail dropped her flask, lifted her skirts, and jumped into the stream. The water clutched at her gown as she trudged deeper into the stream, the water rising to her waist, to her shoulders, to her chin. The child in the water struggled and screamed, his flailing arms the only thing visible among the splashes.

Abigail stopped wading and dropped to float, pulling the water past her with large swings of her arms. Her entire being was focused on that child and getting his head above water.

Just as Abigail made it to the child, another splash rang out beside her. She grabbed the child by his brown coat and lifted him up with both arms, while kicking frantically with her legs.
It was Seth!

Seth kicked and screamed madly.

“I’ve got you!” Abigail cried, her chest laboring and her kicks frantic but tiring.

Seth thrashed, landing a glancing blow to her eye.

“Seth!” Abigail cried. “Stop struggling. You’re all right! I’ve got you.”

Her words must have reached him, for Seth suddenly clutched her around the neck so tight, she sank deep into the water. Kicking madly to stay afloat, Abigail wondered how she was going to manage to get him to the shore.

“Here, let me help you,” a breathless male voice came from behind.

Large hands encircled Abigail’s waist, lifting her
up and helping her stay above water. The hands propelled her toward the shore. She clutched at Seth, her feet grasping for purchase. Grabbing at firm ground with her feet, she yanked herself and her precious bundle through the water. She collapsed on her rear as soon as she could, clutching Seth to her chest and hugging him close.

Her breath pierced her chest with every inhalation and her muscles burned with effort, but she was so thankful she wanted to sing.

Shoving aside her flopping bonnet, Abigail lowered her face to Seth’s. “Are you all right?”

Seth’s lips were quivering, his face washed white.

A quack resounded to her left, and Abigail almost groaned as a flock of ducks swarmed over begging for food.

“Tell me, Seth, are you hurt?”

He looked so pitiful, her heart ached for him.

A duck nipped at Abigail’s arm.
Quack!

Abigail jerked her arm away. “Leave off!”

Seth’s eyes veered toward the ducks.

“Please answer me, Seth!” she cried. “Does anything hurt?”

Something yanked at her sodden bonnet, wrenching her head to one side. “Ow!”

Quack!

A giggle burst from Seth’s throat.

Another jerk on her bonnet.
Quack! Quack!

The ducks thought her stylish pale yellow beads were pieces of bread!

Quack!
Another pluck at her bonnet, yanking her head to the left.

“Ow!”

Seth laughed. His eyes were bright and no longer frightened. Another duck yanked at a button on her bonnet, but she hardly cared.

Abigail wiped tears of relief from her eyes. She was perfectly content to sit for an hour or two while the ducks decimated her prized bonnet. It was worth every bead.

“Spoiled rotten little beggars!” The man standing above waved his arms to scare them away. He was of medium height and medium build, but his face was…well…the word that came to Abigail’s mind was…gorgeous. He had bright, pale blue eyes, a sloping nose, and a cleft chin that combined into an undeniable boyish handsomeness. His wet blond hair was spiked around his head, making him appear like a boy from the wild. And at the moment he was madly flapping his arms. “Shoo! Shoo!”

Abigail was too tired to tell him not to bother.

“Shoo!” The man pranced as he flapped. “Shoo!”

Seth giggled.

Abigail had to agree; the man looked ridiculous.

Suddenly Felix and Foster, the other footman, came running up.

“I want to go swimming, too!” Felix cried.

Seth preened. “I got to go swimming! I got to go swimming!”

“Let me help you.” The blond-haired man grabbed her beneath the arms and pulled her to stand.

Abigail was forced to rise or he would have pulled her arms from their sockets. “Ah, I appreciate your help…”

“Yes, well, you probably want to make yourself presentable.”

Abigail suddenly became aware of the crowd of onlookers gathered at the edge of the water.

Embarrassed, she realized that she must look a fright. She busily helped Seth stand and handed him over to Foster’s care.

Foster mussed Seth’s hair. “Got a little hot, did you? Needed a dip?”

Seth beamed. “I went for a swim!”

Foster looked around. “Where’s Claude?”

Straightening her ruined walking dress, Abigail scanned the crowd. “Good question.” She was going to have to have a word with the wayward footman. Seth could have drowned.

“That was quite courageous of you, miss,” the blond-haired man declared. “Jumping in after your charge like that.”

“I didn’t even know it was Seth,” Abigail admitted.

“Even more worthy!”

“Your help was quite opportune and greatly appreciated…ah…”

He bowed. “Nigel Littlethom at your service!” The man seemed a little excitable, and his every sentence was stated with great aplomb.

“Yes, well, Mr. Littlethom, I am Miss Abigail West, and the boy you saved is Lord Benbrook’s grandson.”

“You saved the lad, not I!” Littlethom declared with a flourish of his hand. “I simply assisted you to the shore.”

“Well, I am indebted to you just the same.” She looked up into his bright blue eyes, realizing that his hair was drying into a bit of a peak above his
forehead, reminding Abigail of a rooster’s comb. Yet the man still managed to look gorgeous. A gorgeous, strutting rooster. She smiled at her own silliness.

“It is my pleasure to be of service!” Mr. Littlethom declared, giving her a boyish smile that was so bright, she had to blink.

She peeled her eyes away from his handsome face, noticing the rest of him. “Oh dear! Your coat!”

His gray coat was soaked through and torn at the shoulders; his breeches were so sodden as to be like paste on his legs.

Gallantly he pulled off his coat and draped it on her shoulders. It must have weighed a stone and smelled unappealingly of sweaty male. Abigail tried not to show her distaste. “Ah, thank you, but it’s quite warm out today and I hardly need it.”

“No, I insist!”

“We should get the lads home,” Foster commented, eyeing the crowd.

“I will escort you!” Littlethom declared.

“Thank you so much. We are greatly in your debt. But there is no need for us to put you out any further.” Abigail handed the man back his coat, which he grudgingly accepted. “In fact, you must give me your address and I will pay for your cleaning and repairs.”

“There is no need, but if I may ask a boon of you?”

“Of course.”

“Please allow me to stop by the residence and inquire after the boy. And you, of course.”

“That would be most kind of you, sir.”

“Until then!” Turning, the man padded off, his shoes making a funny squeaking sound with every step.

Watching him go, Seth giggled.

“He was odd,” Felix commented.

“He was courageous,” Abigail countered. “He helped your brother out from the water.” She drew them along beside her down the path. “Now come along. Let us go back to the house to change clothing.”

“I can’t believe that you jumped in.” Felix swatted his brother’s shoulder as they meandered down the walkway.

“I didn’t mean to…but there were a lot of people trying to get to the ducks…” Seth preened. “And I got to go swimming!”

“Wait until Lord Steele hears. He won’t be pleased.”

Rubbing his head, Foster muttered, “No he won’t be. Especially not with Claude.”

“Nor me,” Abigail muttered.
Keep them safe
, Steele had asked.

Abigail grimaced. Almost drowning did not exactly fit into that category.

Looking down at Seth, she rationalized that little enough harm was done. Yet somehow she doubted that Steele would see it that way. A tiny thrill of anticipation licked up her spine as they neared the house. Lord Steele would have to come out of his study to confront her. Instead of slowing, her steps quickened.