And there was nothing he could do about it.
The dog was going to hit Edwina straight in the chest. Edwina was going to topple backward.
Straight into The Serpentine.
“Nooooooo!” he yelled, charging forward even though he knew all attempts at heroics on his part were utterly useless.
Splash!
“Dear God!” Berbrooke exclaimed. “She’s all wet!”
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Anthony snapped, reaching the scene of the accident and charging forward into the waters. “Do something to help!”
Berbrooke clearly did not quite understand what that meant, because he just stood there, bug-eyed, as Anthony reached down, grasped Edwina’s hand, and hauled her to her feet.
“Are you all right?” he asked gruffly.
She nodded, sputtering and sneezing too hard to answer.
“Miss Sheffield,” he roared, seeing Kate skid to a halt on the banks. “No, not you,” he added, when he felt Edwina jerk to attention at his side. “Your sister.”
“Kate?” she asked, blinking the filthy water from her eyes. “Where’s Kate?”
“Dry as a bone on the embankment,” he muttered, followed by a holler in Kate’s direction of, “Rein in your bloody dog!”
Newton had cheerfully splashed back out of the Serpentine and was now sitting on the grass, his tongue hanging happily out of his mouth. Kate scurried to his side and grabbed the lead. Anthony noticed that she had no pithy comeback to his roared order. Good, he thought viciously. He wouldn’t have thought the bloody woman would have had the sense to keep her mouth shut.
He turned back to Edwina, who, astoundingly, still managed to look lovely even while dripping with pond water. “Let me get you out of here,” he said gruffly, and before she had a chance to react, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to dry ground.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Berbrooke said, shaking his head.
Anthony made no reply. He didn’t think he’d be able to speak without tossing the idiot into the water. What was he thinking, just standing there while Edwina was submerged by that pathetic excuse for a dog?
“Edwina?” Kate asked, walking forward as far as Newton’s lead would allow. “Are you all right?”
“I think you’ve done enough,” Anthony bit out, advancing upon her until they were barely a foot apart.
“Me?” she gasped.
“Look at her,” he snapped, thrusting a pointed finger in Edwina’s direction even while his full attention was focused on Kate. “Just look at her!”
“But it was an accident!”
“I’m really fine!” Edwina called out, sounding a little panicked by the level of anger simmering between her sister and the viscount. “Cold, but fine!”
“See?” Kate returned, swallowing convulsively as she took in the disheveled sight of her sister. “It was an accident.”
He merely crossed his arms and arched a brow.
“You don’t believe me,” she breathed. “I can’t believe you don’t believe me.”
Anthony said nothing. It was inconceivable to him that Kate Sheffield, for all her wit and intelligence, could not be jealous of her sister. And even if there was nothing she could have done to prevent this mishap, surely she must be taking a bit of pleasure in the fact that she was dry and comfortable while Edwina looked like a drowned rat. An attractive rat, to be sure, but certainly a drowned one.
But Kate clearly wasn’t done with the conversation. “Aside from the fact,” she scorned, “that I would never ever do anything to harm Edwina, how do you propose I managed this amazing feat?” She clapped her free hand to her cheek in an expression of mock discovery. “Oh, yes, I know the secret language of the corgis. I ordered the dog to yank the lead from my hand and then, since I have the second sight, I knew that Edwina was standing right here by the Serpentine, so then I said to the dog—through our powerful mind-to-mind connection, since he was much too far away to hear my voice at this point—to change his direction, head for Edwina, and topple her into the lake.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Miss Sheffield.”
“Nothing becomes you, Lord Bridgerton.”
Anthony leaned forward, his chin jutting out in a most menacing manner. “Women should not keep pets if they cannot control them.”
“And men should not take women with pets for a walk in the park if they cannot control either,” she shot back.
Anthony could actually feel the tips of his ears turning red with barely leashed rage. “You, madam, are a menace to society.”
She opened her mouth as if to return the insult, but instead she just offered him an almost frighteningly devious smile and turned to the dog and said, “Shake, Newton.”
Newton looked up at her finger, pointed right at Anthony, and obediently trotted a few steps closer to him before allowing himself a full-body shake, spraying pond water everywhere.
Anthony went for her throat. “I…am…going…to…KILL YOU!” he roared.
Kate ducked nimbly out of the way, dashing over to Edwina’s side. “Now, now, Lord Bridgerton,” she taunted, seeking safety behind her sister’s dripping form. “It would not do to lose your temper in front of the fair Edwina.”
“Kate?” Edwina whispered urgently. “What is going on? Why are you being so mean to him?”
“Why is he being so mean to me?” Kate hissed back.
“I say,” Mr. Berbrooke suddenly said, “that dog got me wet.”
“He got all of us wet,” Kate replied. Including her. But it had been worth it. Oh, it had been worth it to see the look of surprise and rage on that pompous aristocrat’s face.
“You!” Anthony roared, jabbing a furious finger at Kate. “Be quiet.”
Kate held her silence. She wasn’t foolhardy enough to provoke him any further. He looked as if his head might explode at any moment. And he’d certainly lost whatever claim to dignity he’d had at the beginning of the day. His right sleeve was dripping wet from when he’d hauled Edwina out of the water, his boots looked to be ruined forever, and the rest of him was spotted with water, thanks to Newton’s expert shaking prowess.
“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” he continued in a low, deadly voice.
“What I need to do,” Mr. Berbrooke said jovially, clearly unaware that Lord Bridgerton was likely to murder the first person who opened his mouth, “is finish repairing this curricle. Then I can take Miss Sheffield home.” He pointed at Edwina, just in case anyone didn’t understand to which Miss Sheffield he referred.
“Mr. Berbrooke,” Anthony ground out, “do you know how to fix a curricle?”
Mr. Berbrooke blinked a few times.
“Do you even know what is wrong with your curricle?”
Berbrooke’s mouth opened and closed a few more times, and then he said, “I have a few ideas. Shouldn’t take terribly long to figure out which is the actual problem.”
Kate stared at Anthony, fascinated by the vein leaping in his throat. She had never before seen a man so clearly pushed to his limit. Feeling not a little apprehensive at the impending explosion, she took a prudent half step behind Edwina.
She didn’t like to think herself a coward, but self-preservation was another matter entirely.
But the viscount somehow managed to keep himself under control, and his voice was terrifyingly even as he said, “This is what we’re going to do.”
Three pairs of eyes widened in expectation.
“I am going to walk over there”—he pointed at a lady and gentleman about twenty yards away who were trying not to stare but not succeeding—“and ask Montrose if I might borrow his carriage for a few minutes.”
“I say,” Berbrooke said, craning his neck, “is that Geoffrey Montrose? Haven’t seen him for an age.”
A second vein started leaping, this time on Lord Bridgerton’s temple. Kate grasped Edwina’s hand for moral support and held tight.
But Bridgerton, to his credit, ignored Berbroo
ke’s exceedingly inappropriate interjection and continued with, “Since he will say yes—”
“Are you sure?” Kate blurted out.
Somehow his brown eyes resembled icicles. “Am I sure of what?” he bit off.
“Nothing,” she mumbled, ready to kick herself. “Please continue.”
“As I was saying, since as a friend and a gentleman”—he glared at Kate—“he will say yes, I will take Miss Sheffield home and then I will return home and have one of my men return Montrose’s curricle.”
No one bothered to ask which Miss Sheffield he was talking about.
“What about Kate?” Edwina inquired. After all, the curricle could only seat two.
Kate gave her hand a squeeze. Dear, sweet Edwina.
Anthony looked straight at Edwina. “Mr. Berbrooke will escort your sister home.”
“But I can’t,” Berbrooke said. “Got to finish with the curricle, you know.”
“Where do you live?” Anthony snapped.
Berbrooke blinked with surprise but gave his address.
“I will stop by your house and fetch a servant to wait with your conveyance while you escort Miss Sheffield to her home. Is that clear?” He paused and looked at everyone—including the dog—with a rather hard expression. Except for Edwina, of course, who was the only person present who had not lit a fuse directly under his temper.
“Is that clear?” he repeated.