The Lonely Duke Waited Months for His Bride — Then She Arrived With His Missing Son
Chapter 11
Theme:
Font Size:
24px
The attempt at humor did not disguise the pain in his voice. The gap between the bank and the pier was too wide to jump. The swollen race blocked the lower passage, and the remaining boards were visibly unstable. Joseph sent a man for assistance from the upper service bridge, where a sound approach remained, though it required moving equipment around the mill.News reached the dower house by a breathless groom. Marian came with Honoria and the stable yard's spare ropes, blankets, and supplies. Joseph already had men working from the upper side, where a narrow but stable stone route allowed them to bring a line and a supporting sling within Benedict's reach.Marian stayed clear of the water. She steadied the horse bringing equipment and kept the anxious onlookers away from the broken edge. When Benedict tried to rise before the men could reach him, she called across the race:"Look at Joseph! He knows the way to you! Do not spend your strength proving you can stand!"Benedict heard her above the water and sat back against the stone. Only then did she realize she had crushed the blankets against her chest.From his ledge, Benedict saw her. Rain blurred the faces around her, yet he recognized the way she held herself when afraid: upright, practical, determined not to burden anyone with fear. He thought of her in his library, laughing at his drawings. He thought of the garden and the book she had finally accepted as a loan. He thought of an ordinary breakfast across a table, and felt a sudden, piercing grief for all the mornings he had not yet lived.The men reached him from the upper service side. With their help and using the supporting line, he crossed to firm ground slowly, his injured leg nearly giving way at the final step. Joseph caught him. Two workers carried him back from the edge while the rest cleared the area.Marian met him at the path. "Do not attempt to walk on that leg.""Yes, Miss Whitlock." His lips were pale. "I believe that may be the first order of yours I have obeyed without argument."She tried to laugh, but the sound broke. She pressed a blanket around his shoulders and could not stop her hands from shaking."Marian—""You must be examined and warmed, and you must not talk as though this were amusing.""I thought of you," he said. She looked up. "When I thought I might not get away, I feared I would never tell you."A worker called for room to pass, and Benedict was guided toward the carriage. The unfinished sentence remained between them as sharply as the broken timber in the river. Marian followed with the blankets, and Benedict understood that what frightened him now was not death alone; it was a life in which he never found the courage to tell her he loved her.The physician found no broken bone. Benedict's ankle was badly twisted and his leg bruised, and he was ordered to keep to the house while the swelling subsided. He disliked the instruction, but even a duke could not argue his way through pain.