Page 47 of Tempting Harriet
There was a strangled sob from Lady Phyllis and then a long silence again. Harriet took the remaining steps to thedoor and shut it as soundlessly as she was able. She turnedand set down the glass on a small table and knelt down infront of Lady Sophia.
“How much did you hear?” she asked.
“Not as much as I would have liked, child,” Lady Sophia said. “It was Lady Phyllis?”
Harriet nodded. “Please,” she said, “we must say nothing to get the poor girl into trouble. She was saying good-byeto him.”
“To her young buck,” Lady Sophia said. “He was not Archibald, was he?”
Harriet shook her head. “David,” she said. “I think Mr.Lockhart, son of Baron Raven, is David. They were both presented to us before dinner. Please promise that we willsay nothing.”
Lady Sophia patted Harriet’s cheek. “They were kissing,” she said. “Even I could hear the silences, child. And they were unhappy. Sometimes I am glad I was unable tohave children. Something happens to make parents veryfoolish creatures. I suppose Barthorpe’s ambition has keptthe gel from her David?”
Harriet nodded and Lady Sophia tutted. “There,” she said, patting Harriet’s cheek once more. “Perhaps all is notlost after all. No, child, I am not about to go back into theballroom to shout out an announcement. Their secret is safewith me, just as yours is. Hand me the drink. And then youshall help me upstairs and call my woman to put me to bed.These old bones have had enough of festivities for oneevening. Tomorrow we have to return to town. But I havesomething else to accomplish before I leave.” She sighed.“How we take our energy for granted when we areyounger.”
Harriet returned to the ballroom after taking Lady Sophia to her room and immediately had her hand solicited for adance by Mr. Horn. But the necessity of smiling and appearing as if she were enjoying herself was just too great astrain on her nerves. She was rapidly coming to believe thatthis must be one of the worst days of her life. She could notremember feeling more depressed. She thought back to thatday at Ebury Court when Lord Archibald Vinney had cometo try for the second time to persuade her to become hismistress and she had sent him on his way with her secondrefusal. Oh, yes, perhaps that day had been equally bad.And yet she had survived it. She had even gone on to finddeep and unexpected contentment after it. She supposedshe would survive this too.
Except that that time her honor had been intact.
She could not stay in the ballroom after the set was over. She could tell by the look on his face that the other youngman of the dining room was trying to get up the courage toask her to dance. She could not smile for half an hourlonger. She slipped out through the French windows againand crossed the terrace into the deeper darkness of the graveled walks that made geometric patterns through the formal gardens. The cool, almost chilly air felt good.
He had felt almost relieved after his offer had been made to the earl and to Lady Phyllis and both had accepted. Allthe doubts and the indecisions were behind him. Once therewas really no way out he was able to begin to accept thenew facts of his life. He expected to feel even more relieved once the betrothal was publicly announced and thelast nail had been pounded into his coffin, so to speak.
But it had not happened that way. In the dining room when the earl had stood to make the announcement, he hadfelt a deep dread, and then, when the announcement hadbeen made and he had been forced to smile and get to hisfeet, bow over Lady Phyllis’s hand, and raise it to his lips,he had had to fight blind panic. He had fought and won, ofcourse, but black despair had replaced it. And his awareness of Harriet, always acute, almost like a sixth sense, wasfurther intensified. Although he did not consciously look ather through much of the evening, he was aware of herevery move, every gesture, every expression. It was sweetagony to touch her briefly during the one country dance andtwirl her about before returning her to her own partner. Hecould have killed when she left the ballroom with Sothebyin order to step out onto the terrace. He knew almost to thesecond how long she was out there. Too damned long.
When she was absent for a long time with his Aunt Sophie, he guessed that both of them had retired for the night. He fought the urge to go after Harriet to try to talk with herin the privacy of her own room. To make love to her there.His need for her was a raw ache. It was a week—a weekand so many hours—since he had last had her. But he wasbetrothed, he reminded himself, and looked about to seeLady Phyllis coming into the ballroom, brightly smiling, onthe arm of young—Lockhart? It was difficult to recall thename of everyone to whom he had been presented thisevening. This was the evening on which his betrothal hadbeen announced. He could hardly go upstairs to make loveto another woman.
And then Harriet came back alone and danced once and disappeared out of doors just when he was fighting the urgeto ask her to dance himself and estimating the reaction ofhis grandmother and the countess if he did so. He alsofought the urge to go out after her—and lost. After all, itwas unlikely that anyone had seen her go. He would not begone long enough himself for his absence to be particularlynoted. He slipped out through the French windows, lookedalong the terrace in both directions, and crossed it to lookdown over the gardens. She was strolling to one side ofthem, close to some overhanging willow trees. He wouldnot have seen her if he had not been looking for her. Hehurried after her.
“It’s me,” he said when she jerked around suddenly in some alarm as his feet crunched gravel behind her. Hestopped walking when he was close to her.
She stood looking at him for a few moments and then gave a low moan and swayed forward. He caught her tohim, his arms going about her like iron bands, trying to foldher into himself. Her face was buried against his neckcloth.And in that wretched moment he knew the truth that hesupposed he had known all along. Her feelings matched hisown.
Too late. By his own foolish, foolish stupidity too late.
“No,” she said as his mouth sought and found hers. But he took it anyway and ravished it while she sagged againsthim and moaned once more. “No. Archie, no.”
He lifted his head. “Harriet,” he said, “you know it means nothing, what has happened this evening. It is amere formality.”
“A formality sanctioned by church and state,” she said. “Go back. You must go back. I shall enter the house by another door and go to my room. Go. Please.”
“Harriet,” he said, “how can I go? I want you. I need you.”
“No,” she said. “No longer. You are affianced. You belong to her.”
“What are you saying?” he asked harshly. “You are not ending things now, Harriet. I won’t let you end it yet. Iwon’t let you.” His arms tightened about her again.
“It ended,” she said, “when your betrothal was announced. I have been your mistress, Archie, when only we two were concerned. I cannot commit adultery with you. Icannot, no matter what you say.”
He looked down at her with wild eyes. “Not yet,” he said. “We cannot say good-bye now. Not like this. Oncemore. We have to meet one more time. On Thursday. Wehave to have time to say good-bye properly. You cannotdeny me that, Harriet. One more time.” Panic was on himagain. “Please. One more time. Please.”
She bent her head forward until her forehead was against his neckcloth. She said nothing for a long time. He foughtthe humiliation of tears. What sort of damned-fool trap hadhe allowed others to lead him into? What sort of damned-fool weakling was he? But such questions came too late. Itwas too late.
“Once more,” she whispered. “To say good-bye.”
“On Thursday?”
“Yes.” He felt her swallow awkwardly.
