Page 86 of A Wicked Game

Oh, the man was infuriating!

But her heart was suddenly fluttering with the faintest stirrings of hope. Perhaps he hadn’t given up on her after all.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The following day Harriet could scarcely hide her nerves. She busied herself with printing another ten copies ofA Map of the Heartand used her watercolors to tint the various points of interest. A bilious, envious yellow-green for Jealousy Isle. Deep red for the heart on the hanging sign of Tenderness Tavern. And the beautiful Prussian blue of Morgan’s uniform for the water bubbling up from the Spring of Eternal Hope.

Her stomach clenched in anticipation. Whatdidhe have planned for tonight?

She pushed away the thought.

She’d sold six more copies of the map since she’d displayed one in the shopwindow yesterday; a constant crowd hovered outside, all of them peering through the glass and engaging in good-natured discussion as to its accuracy and omissions.

Harriet smiled. Word of mouth was good for business, and it seemed she’d inadvertently stumbled upon an extremely profitable new sideline. Few members of the general public ever required geographical maps, but there were plenty of people who appreciated a humorous commentary on love.

She might never be bold enough to start engraving satirical prints or erotic sketches to appeal to the masses, as Rowlandson and Hogarth had done so successfully, but there was clearly profit to be made in amusing projects like this. Every shilling that went into the cashbox was another step toward adventure and independence.

Father had almost completely recovered from his surgery; he’d stopped needing the laudanum and his increasing impatience to be up and about was a clear sign he was on the mend. He’d already bumped into the side table and knocked over his cup of tea this morning. Harriet had taken him for a short walk around their courtyard garden, leading him gently by the arm, and finally resorted to readingRobinson Crusoealoud to him in an effort to get him to stay put.

Doctor Saunders paid them a visit. He removed Father’s outer bandages and inspected his eyes, but despite Father’s claims that he was ready to be done with them altogether, the doctor suggested waiting one more day until they discarded the dressings completely. Father had acceded to this decree with grouchy acceptance.

Harriet got more and more nervous as the afternoon progressed. She generally closed the shop at five, but since the evening was fair and there was still a smattering of potential customers gathered around the bay window, she left the door open for another hour. It was just starting to get dark when she locked the door, turned the sign to Closed, and stepped into the back room.

“I’m going out for a little while this evening, Father. Do you think you’ll be all right on your own? Mrs. Jennings has just left, but I can ask Jem Cooper to come and sit with you for an hour or so if you want company.”

Father, seated in his armchair by the fire, made a shooing gesture with his hands, barely missingRobinson Crusoeon the table.

“I’ll be fine. No need to bother Jem. Where are you off to, Harry?”

Harriet was glad he couldn’t see the guilty pink flush that heated her cheeks. She tried to think of something that wasn’t an out-and-out lie.

“I’m going to Grosvenor Square. To Maddie’s house.” That was nearly true. Paradise Court theoretically bordered Maddie’s garden. They even shared an adjoining wall. Or theywoulddo, she amended silently, if Paradise Court actually existed.

Father nodded. “Oh, good. If you happen to see that Morgan Davies, tell him I can’t wait toseehim in person to thank him.”

Harriet rolled her eyes fondly as he chuckled at his own joke, even as the mention of Morgan sent her pulse to pounding in her throat.

“I will. But I’m not certain he’ll be there.” That, too, wasn’t completely untrue. Morgan had said he’d send a carriage for her at seven, but there’d been no indication that he would be in it. Surely he planned to be present if he meant to prove his love?

Harriet shook her head and went upstairs to change.

It was impossible to step into her bedroom and not think of Morgan. Every time she looked at her bed she imagined him there, but that entire evening had already taken on the aspect of a dream. She could hardly believe it had actually happened, that she’dmade love with Morgan Davies. Right there. Sometimes she was convinced she could still smell his cologne on her pillow.

She wanted to make love to him again. Maybe tonight she’d pluck up the courage to tell him that.

Since she had no idea what kind of activity Morgan had planned, she donned a relatively simple dress of midnight blue and a matching spencer edged with velvet trim. Both were new additions to her wardrobe from the excellent Madame de Tourville, and she was pleased with the way the color brought out the gray of her eyes.

The fact that it was the exact color of Morgan’s navy jacket was neither here nor there.

Her cheeks, when she glanced in the mirror, were flushed and her eyes sparkled with devilish excitement. Morgan did this to her. He brought her to life. He made her glow.

She snatched up a pair of gloves and a shawl, and descended the stairs just in time to hear a strange thump from the back room. Worried that Father had knocked his book dangerously close to the fire, she rushed forward, only to stop dead in the doorway.

The Frenchman De Caen stood by her father’s chair, a wicked-looking pistol aimed at his head.

“Ah! Here she is! The little whore who lied to my face.”

Harriet gasped. His tone was loud and jovial, a complete contrast to the insulting words and the terrifying threat of that pistol.

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