A small gasp from the pond interrupted him before he could ask.
A young girl stood near the bridge railing, perhaps ten or eleven, her sandy-blond hair partly undone.
A ribbon floated on the pond below, drifting farther from the bridge with each ripple.
An older woman beside her spoke in a low, sharp voice.
“Cecily, honestly.
You must learn to stand still.”
The girl’s eyes filled with embarrassed tears.
Several guests looked over.
Then deliberately looked away.
Aurelian stood.
Echo caught his sleeve.
“Aurelian.”
“It is only a ribbon.”
“That is not the point.”
He was already moving.
The ribbon floated just beyond the edge of the bridge, bright against the dark water.
Aurelian removed one glove and crouched near the carved railing.
Echo appeared beside him almost immediately.
“Do not climb over that.”
“I was not going to.”
“You were considering it.”
“Only briefly.”
“Aurelian.”
He gave her an apologetic look and reached between the carved posts instead.
The ribbon drifted closer.
Then away.
He stretched farther.
Someone gasped behind him.
“He is going to fall in,” Varian muttered.
“I know,” Echo said.
“I am not,” Aurelian replied, though he was becoming less certain.
His fingers finally caught the ribbon.
He smiled in triumph.
Then his balance shifted.
Echo seized the back of his coat.
Varian grabbed Echo.
Evelyne caught Varian.
Together, with very little dignity, they dragged Aurelian upright.
The entire bridge stared at them.
Aurelian held up the dripping ribbon.
“I retrieved it.”
Evelyne laughed first.
Varian followed.
Even Echo made a helpless sound behind one hand.
The girl stared at Aurelian as though he had accomplished something heroic rather than nearly fallen into a decorative pond.
“Thank you, my lord.”
Aurelian lowered himself to one knee so they were closer to eye level and offered the ribbon carefully.
“I am sorry it is wet.”
She accepted it with both hands.
“It is my favorite.”
“Then it was worth saving.”
Her smile returned.
The older woman beside her looked prepared to object, but Lady Lockwood’s voice carried from behind them.
“Kindness is not a scandal, Lady Primrose.”
Lady Primrose closed her mouth.
Only then did Aurelian notice how many people were watching.
He looked at the wet glove in his hand.
In a single afternoon, he had addressed the hostess incorrectly, stolen a countess’s tea, spoken far too honestly about noble wealth, and nearly fallen into a pond for a child’s ribbon.
Surely there was a limit to how much embarrassment one gathering could survive.
From beneath her canopy, Marquise Beaumont began to clap.
Once.
Then again.
“What a heroic young man,” she said, amusement bright in her voice.
Laughter moved through the garden.
A few others joined the applause.
Aurelian stood on the bridge, entirely uncertain what he was supposed to do with any of it.
He looked toward Echo.
For once, she was not staring at him in horror.
She looked almost impressed.
That was considerably more alarming.
The rest of the afternoon became stranger still.
People who had barely glanced at Aurelian when he arrived now approached him willingly.
Lady Lockwood resumed questioning him about southern tea.
Evelyne remained nearby rather than retreating to quieter company.
Varian seemed to have decided that Aurelian’s confusion was entertaining enough to justify friendship.
Even Marquise Beaumont continued to watch him from across the garden with obvious approval.
Aurelian still could not determine whether the gathering had gone well.
Near the greenhouse, he caught Echo’s eye.
He gave her a questioning look.
She shook her head once.
Then smiled.
Aurelian’s shoulders relaxed.
Perhaps he had not survived the afternoon gracefully.
But, somehow, he appeared to have survived it.