It only took about two seconds before Penelope became certain that this was how she would die.

In a stinking pond in the far corner of her estate. Well, it was not even her estate. It was his estate—that wretched man. This would be her final resting place, below the lily pads and next to that damn lost ball. She should have escaped the Hutton lands while she could.

Lawn bowling was not worth death, but Penelope hadn't even considered that she might fall. Let alone not be able to get up.

She kicked her feet, trying desperately to find the bottom of the murky pool. Or something, anything that she could push off of. But she was finding nothing except her skirts. So many layers of wet, heavy skirts, which were pulling her further down.

Her arms were of no use. They didn't have the power to pull her toward the surface, not when her clothes were dead weight. She would be dead weight soon, quite literally.

Fear tingled in her fingers, threading through her body as Penelope's thoughts scattered with the inception of panic. Her lungs were bursting. Water swirled, dark and deep. Limbs tangled in clothes and weeds, and every frantic movement she made only increased the fright. All-consuming, over-taking everything.

Something had a hold on her. Something solid and unyielding. It had grabbed her, and she fought against it, striking out.

And then...air.

Penelope gasped, gulping in the sweet air as she broke the surface.

"For Christ's sake, would you stop hitting me?"

A deep voice was breathing in her ear, and Penelope realized it likely belonged to the decidedly male body, which was wrapped around her. Saving her. Not dragging her deeper.

She relaxed, allowing the man to tug her up the sloped bank of the pond because her own mental and physical state did not appear to be in operating order. Her limbs felt weightless, as if they weren't attached to her body. And water still felt as though it was clogged in her throat. There was air, but it wasn't enough.

It was so tight. Everything was so goddamn tight.

"Shit," the man muttered as an odd sound emerged from Penelope. Dear God, was she choking? On water?

Steely eyes swam above her as Penelope landed on a bed of grass. She recognized those eyes. And that sharp, tight jaw. Bleached hair.

"Colonel Ash," Penelope gasped.

Or rather, that was what she meant to say. However, she did not seem to have the air for it, so the noise that emerged from her mouth sounded nothing like that. It was garbled nonsense.

He shook his head, giving her a stern glare.

Penelope opened her mouth again, trying desperately to get something in or out, but the attempt was pinched. Cinched. Sucked back in by Colonel Ash's hands as he yanked on Penelope's bodice in an animalistic fashion. There was a dreadful ripping noise followed by a rush of air to Penelope's lungs.

She careened to her left, spitting up the water that had been lodged somewhere within the depths of her body. Gasping over the grass, Penelope clutched her chest.

Her very bare chest.

"Colonel—"

"Goddamn you woman," he growled, cutting her off, "stop trying to talk."

Something pressed into her back, and Penelope was quite sure it was his hand. His very large, strong hand. It must be, after all, since it had turned her stays into dust with one simple tug.

"Breathe," he said, speaking softer this time.

Shutting her eyes, Penelope did what he said, focusing on the smell of the earth and the sound of the trees rushing around her. She let the pond water drip off of the tip of her nose, wetting the grass beneath her. And she breathed.

"That's it."

Colonel Ash's gruff encouragement was oddly comforting. Like this wasn't the first time he'd dealt with drowning, drenched women.

After expelling every droplet of pond water, Penelope clutched what was left of her bodice to her chest and fell onto her back again. Colonel Ash sat beside her on the ground, and his brows were drawn together as he watched her.

"May I speak now?" she asked, her voice grotesquely hoarse.

He rolled his eyes. Which made Penelope want to roll her eyes. But she refrained.

"If you must."

"You ruined my dress."

Colonel Ash looked at the sky and closed his eyes. His hair was sopping, just as hers was, and it dripped down over his sharp profile. Penelope did not miss the frustration that flickered on his face, and she tried not to laugh. She reckoned it would feel unpleasant.

"I am not even going to bother responding to that," he muttered.

"It was worth quite a lot," she quipped. Simply to see what his response would be.

Penelope certainly wasn't expecting him to turn a heated glare on her, though. She did not anticipate his jaw to tighten and body to tense.

"More than your life, my lady?"

"Of course not."

Penelope had murmured the words, and as they left her lips, the realization sank in. She pulled her dress up to cover her further, a deep shiver spreading over her skin and through her bones.

"You cannot trapeze around ponds like that if you are going to wear outfits with such an ungodly number of layers, Lady Hutton."

"Penelope," she squeaked in the face of Colonel Ash's wrath, correcting him.

His eyes narrowed. "Did you even realize how deep a lagoon that was, Penelope?"

"Honestly, I did not—"

"Of course you did not."

He shook his head and looked at the water. It appeared untouched, undisturbed. As if it had forgotten that Penelope nearly drowned beneath the surface moments before.

There was a cheer in the background, alerting Penelope to the lawn bowling game, which had apparently continued on despite her disappearance. It was all just as well. It wouldn't be to their benefit to have someone peek through the overgrown bushes at this moment. Not with Penelope's ripped dress and Colonel Ash sitting so damned close, his wet clothes dripping onto hers.

The man's dark voice interrupted her thoughts.

"For the record," he said, "I was teasing when I'd implied that you would encounter danger on your back lawn. But I see you are even more at risk than I believed. How foolish of me to assume your safety whilst playing a simple game."

He said the words in an amused drawl, but that amusement did not reach his eyes when he twisted his head back toward Penelope. No, there was not an ounce of amusement when that steely gaze of his flicked down, surveying her unclothed state.

Penelope wondered how many more times they would arrive in this situation.

Colonel Ash immediately cleared his throat before pushing off the ground and walking away from her. His strides were long and purposeful, although Penelope had no idea where the devil he was heading. There was nothing at the end of the clearing except for a thick row of trees, and when he reached it, he spun on his heel, beginning toward her again.

He stripped off his coat as he reached Penelope's side, revealing a tan, broad chest through a plastered white shirt. He dropped the wet garment over her, and it landed on Penelope's chest with an indelicate plop.

"Put that on so we may return to the house," he said.

"Oh heavens no," Penelope said, sitting up. "I cannot return in this state."

The coat fell into her lap, and Colonel Ash tilted his head up the sky again. Penelope glanced down to see that the ripped pieces of her dress were draped haphazardly over her decolletage. She was covered, but the wind might see fit to change that at any second.

Colonel Ash shook his head, but he did not look at her.

"Well, you certainly cannot stay here all day. You shall catch a chill, and I already believe that you should be seen by a physician."

Penelope frowned as she glanced at the bright summer sun.

"Are you afraid that you shall catch a chill, Colonel?"

He appeared affronted by her question.

"No."

"Then I am certain that I shall not catch a chill, either."

He kicked at the grass like a child who did not get his way, and Penelope giggled. His glare cut over to her.

"You lack a great deal of common sense, don't you, Lady Hutton?"

"On the contrary, Colonel. My tutors always told me I was the brightest that they ever did see."

"You might be book smart, Penelope, but—what are you doing?"

Penelope had stood, draping the Colonel's coat over her shoulders. Although the day was warm, she would be foolish to think that the sun would dry all of the many layers she wore. She needed to shed a few.

"Using my book smarts, Colonel," she said before shimming out of her ripped gown, leaving her standing there in a simple chemise. With the weight of wet fabric gone, Penelope breathed in deeply, an act she would no longer take for granted.

If Colonel Ash had not been there—

She glanced over to find him watching her. He was unashamedly staring, which caused a rush of heat to reach Penelope's cheeks.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, blinking up at the man beneath her lashes.

His lips drew in a tight line, and he shook his head for what seemed like the hundredth time this afternoon.

"Well, it is settled," he said, speaking just as quietly as Penelope had.

"What is settled?"

"I suppose I really do have to follow you around this summer. For your own goddamn welfare."

She scoffed. "You are overdramatic, Colonel. Now do sit with me so we may devise a story for my sudden absence. We shall dry, and then when the others have gone in to ready for dinner, we shall slip in unseen."

Colonel Ash sighed. And then he sat, lumbering down into the grass beside her.

"How long do you suppose we have to wait?" he asked.

Penelope considered. "Perhaps a couple hours at most."

Colonel Ash swore beneath his breath, and Penelope could not help but smile.