Compromised Miss

by O'Brien, Anne

Yet for her it was not a bad bargain at all. At his side in the cool gloom of the little church, she had risked a glance. Sensing it, Luke had turned his head, held her gaze, and smiled. Within the shadows of the church his eyes were dark and fathomless, impossible to read. Dignity made her return the contact despite the flush it brought to her cheeks, but beneath the calm exterior, desire made her heart tremble. How splendid he was. He moved with far more ease now, as his torn muscles healed. The bruising on his temple had almost vanished, a mere shadow, whilst the scar on his cheek was healing fast. Perhaps it would not even leave a mark to mar his striking looks. For now it made him attractively rakish, and formidably handsome. During his absence she had forgotten a little and had managed to control her fluttering nerves, but now they reappeared, a cloud of butterflies, just when she needed all her confidence for what she must ask him as soon as they were wed.

  ‘I didn’t know of your French connections,’ Luke commented as they stepped from the church porch out into the sunshine.

  So he had reacted. Harriette’s regard was firm, steady. ‘My mother was French. Does it matter?’

  ‘No. Just that you had never mentioned it.’

  ‘Not everyone is so tolerant since we are at war. My father preferred to forget her when she died. My brother prefers to forget my connection with the enemy.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ A little silence that Harriette could not interpret. Then, when it almost became uncomfortable, ‘Do you need to return to Whitescar Hall?’ Luke kept possession of her hand, neatly tucked through his arm so that she was acutely aware of the heat of his body, could feel the steady beat of his heart against her. Such warnings of future intimacy that she could not imagine. She swallowed. Her nerves were returning in force, shivering over her skin that felt sensitive to every movement of the silk of her gown.

  ‘No,’ she replied abruptly. ‘I have all I need with me.’ She indicated Meggie, who stood, two bandboxes at her feet, beside the Earl’s smart curricle, gleaming dark blue, with a pair of glossy dark bays.

  ‘Then shall we go? We can rest overnight on the way to London. Have you a warm coat with you?’

  Harriette closed her fingers on the fine material of his sleeve, steeling herself. ‘One thing I would ask, my lord. I know you would not want this, but…’

  His eyes gleamed quizzically. ‘If I cannot grant my bride her heart’s delight on the day of her wedding…And I will do so if you will call me Luke as we agreed.’

  ‘Luke.’ She took a breath. ‘I want to stay at Lydyard’s Pride tonight.’

  ‘You do?’ She could hear his surprise. Why would anyone want to stay in so run-down a house? Except that it had a place in her heart, and tonight, for the last time, before she put it all behind her, it was important that she did. For herself. For those who had depended on her for so long. But she would not tell him that. ‘Then we shall.’ He lifted her hand from where he had held it against his arm, but only to entwine his fingers with hers, so particular a symbol of unity between them. Lifting their interlaced hands, he kissed her knuckles lightly, perhaps an insignificant gesture, but one to set her heart to trip against her whalebone stays. Then, not insignificant at all to Harriette, he bent his head to touch his lips to her cheek.

  Such a light kiss, entirely appropriate in public from a groom to his bride, but to Harriette with her heightened senses it seemed shockingly intimate. As the blood rushed to her cheeks, she felt an unaccustomed shyness descend. She would have to learn to deal with this man if she was to hide her emotions from him. What a burden it would be for him to know that a wife, taken for convenience, without either friendship or affection between them, threatened to melt into a puddle at his feet from a passing kiss to her cheek!

  ‘I’ve had some of the rooms put to rights at the Pride,’ she informed him as if that were the most important thing in the world, not the riotous surge of her blood at the touch of his mouth. ‘A meal is arranged for us. It’s just for tonight. We can leave tomorrow, as soon as you wish.’

  ‘Then that is what we shall do.’ If he was surprised he did not show it, but pulled her gently in his wake as he made his way to inform Sir Wallace that they would not, sadly, be staying at Whitescar Hall to take a glass of contraband brandy in celebration of their marriage. ‘I expect it will give me better memories of the place.’

  Harriette repressed a sigh of relief. ‘Yes, Luke. I hope it will.’

  Lydyard’s Pride, despite Harriette’s assurances, was not much different from the cobwebbed desolation Luke remembered from his enforced stay. He supposed there was a limit to what could be done in a short time with one elderly retainer and two maids. Perhaps there was less dust in the library, a less desolate air with the holland covers removed, but nothing could rob it of the all-pervading damp from the ill-fitting windows and the incessant wind from the sea.

  Why did she care for it so much? He did not ask because Luke sensed a careful reticence in his bride on the matter, intriguing in a lady who could be astonishingly forthright in others. He doubted she would have given him a satisfactory answer.

  No, it would not have been his choice to spend his wedding night here, where he would, he presumed, have to woo a nervous bride. But was Harriette nervous? He thought that she might be, a virgin anticipating her wedding night with a man who was still very much a stranger to her. When he had kissed her—a fleeting affair—he had felt her retreat from him. But watching her instruct the maids to deliver their luggage to the one habitable bedchamber, he was not sure. Uneasy she certainly was—there was a sharp tension about her that he did not recall from their previous acquaintance—but she was not nervous. What a strange mixture of competence and reticence she was, and he discovered a need to seduce her into revealing more of her thoughts to him, the emotions that drove her.

  He would like to feel her relax and soften under his hands.

  The evening fell into the twilight of a summer night.

  ‘We shall eat early, sir,’ she informed him. ‘Luke!’ she added with a glimmer of a smile. ‘Forgive me. It will take me a little while to get used to you!’ Which made him laugh. ‘We don’t keep town hours here, I’m afraid. Perhaps I can offer you a drink. The brandy is excellent. I can personally recommend it.’

  They sat in the library, in the uncomfortably upright chairs, the upholstery frayed and mildewed, and made desultory small talk about his journey from London. She asked about his damaged muscles. Luke answered her questions, sipped the brandy, acknowledging its quality. She was waiting for something. But what? Was it something she expected from him? Perhaps he was misreading her and it was merely a case of wedding nerves.

  But she looked up, turning her head, listening at every noise in the old house.

  From the library they moved to the dining room, where they sat formally at opposite ends of the table, the vast expanse between them polished inadequately for their use and set with a strangely haphazard mix of tarnished cutlery and old china of exceptional taste, but liberally chipped. Only the glasses were fine and old. Luke found himself watching and waiting, every sense on the alert. There was no doubting it. Harriette glanced up, reacting to every sound. When the door opened to admit Wiggins with a bottle of claret, she fumbled, unusually clumsy, and dropped her napkin to the floor.

  She must be afraid of him. He could think of no other reason for her fingers pressed so firmly, white-tipped, against the edge of the table. Such a thought—that she might view an intimacy between them with trepidation—lodged uncomfortably in his chest.

  The claret poured, Wiggins departed and Luke could stand it no longer, unsure whether to be impressed or amused. What did she expect of him? That with the blessing of the law he would pounce before their supper was eaten, strip that very pretty gown from her body and ravish her with no thought but for his own pleasure? It was an arresting thought as the candlelight glimmered on the pale skin above the lace-edged neckline, drawing his eye to the swell of her breast and the lovely column of her neck. It would be no hardship for him
to do just that, he acknowledged, as his heart picked up its beat at the thought of cupping one of those elegant little breasts in the palm of his hand, but hopefully with some finesse and an eye to the lady’s comfort. So, when once again his bride lifted her head at the sound of a distant owl hoot from the elms, he knew he must tread delicately to put her mind at rest.

  ‘Harriette.’ He broke into her lengthy description of the quality of the hunting in the vicinity, folded his hands on the polished wood and fixed her with a straight but compassionate look. Waited until her eyes lifted from her glass, widening at his serious tone. A tension, a strange mutual recognition, snapped between them as their eyes met, startling him with its intensity. It was incredible. For a moment he forgot what he had intended to say.

  ‘Yes?’ she asked.

  Luke cleared his throat. ‘There’s nothing to worry you, you know.’

  ‘I’m not worried.’ She blinked, breaking the connection.

  He sighed softly, intent now on reassurance. ‘I’m trying to put you at ease. There’s no need for you to…to be so anxious. I shall treat you with every care, every consideration. Our betrothal might have come about in an unnatural fashion, but I shall honour and respect you as my wife. My demands on you will not overstep the bounds of propriety. I have wed you to restore your good name.’ He almost winced at the formal words, but could think of no other way to put her mind at rest. ‘I am experienced enough to know what will bring you pleasure. You need have no fears that my demands…’ His words dried as he saw the colour rise from the lace at her neckline, her eyes widen.

  Harriette looked startled, but replied readily enough, ‘What need I not fear about your demands?’

  ‘That you share my bed and the physical demands of my body every night.’ How to say it to a nervous virgin? ‘You need not fear that I shall consummate our marriage without…ah, care for your sensibilities…’ Could it get any worse?

  ‘Oh, I understand.’ She shook her head, an action that made the loose curls dance on her shoulders, and gave a breathless little laugh of, he thought, relief. ‘It’s very kind of you to reassure me.’

  ‘Good.’ No, it wasn’t. He was still puzzled. So what was it that she thought he would demand from her? He did not think it was terror of his fulfilling his sexual gratification that had tinted her face so alluringly. ‘I just thought I would say it.’

  ‘Thank you. It was very kind of you. Ah…perhaps you would like another glass of claret?’ Harriette returned to a description of the countryside and, obligingly, he followed her lead. He could not force her to say what clearly was filling her whole awareness.

  At last Wiggins entered with arthritic footsteps and a vast silver tureen as tarnished as the cutlery. He shuffled towards Harriette, removing the domed lid.

  ‘My lady.’ He had barely dipped the ladle when hard on his heels came the maid that Luke remembered, Jenny. Without pause she addressed Harriette from across the room.

  ‘Mr Alexander’s boy’s at the door, miss—my lady, that is. All’s clear.’

  ‘Good!’ Harriette was on her feet in an instant, already moving to the door with the briefest glance in Luke’s direction. ‘Stay, if you will, sir. I shall only be gone a minute.’

  The tureen was already on its way back to some distant kitchen. Suspicions, clear and immediately well formed, leapt into Luke’s mind. The tension of minutes ago had quite vanished, leaving Harriette all competence and confident action.

  ‘Forgive me.’ Harriette turned in the doorway with an apologetic smile. ‘This is unavoidable. I would not have had it happen, tonight of all nights, but it’s urgent business and I need to go to the Tower Room. I shall return immediately. If you wish, I’ll send Wiggins back with the soup….’

  But Luke had no intention of meekly drinking soup whilst his wife involved herself in this urgent business. He pushed himself slowly but purposely to his feet, driven by intrigue and a simmer of impatience, the impatience quickly gaining the upper hand. Was she not going to tell him what she was about? Did she think he would sit by and accept without comment, when he knew very well what demanded her attention? No, by God! He would not. There she stood, ridiculously garbed in silk and ribbons, astonishingly pretty with sparkling eyes and ruffled curls, about to involve herself in a nefarious and undoubtedly illegal venture, and all without telling him.

  Would it be dangerous? He had no idea, but breaking the law might have unpleasant consequences for her. His wife must not be allowed to put herself in any sort of danger!

  In an instant, before he had even thought of what he was doing, he had covered the distance between them with long strides to clasp her wrist. Loosely enough, as she turned to go, but firm enough to hold her still.

  ‘It’s smuggling, isn’t it? You said you would give it up.’

  ‘If I recall correctly, I said I would consider it.’ Suddenly her eyes losing their sparkle, were flat and cool on his. ‘I won’t be involved after tonight. But on this occasion, my final night here, my responsibilities are with the Free Traders.’

  The words were spoken before he could think. ‘What would you do if I forbade it?’

  An ominous silence hung between them for the length of a heartbeat.

  ‘Would you?’ Harriette became very still, her eyes searching his face as Alexander’s words echoed in her mind. Venmore will demand you give up the Free Trade, see if he doesn’t. ‘By what right would you forbid me? I agreed to consider your wishes, and I will. I was not aware that you would forbid me in that hectoring tone.’

  ‘And I was not aware that I was hectoring! But as your husband, who has some concern for your wellbeing, I might consider it wise to be so.’

  He could see that she chose her words with care. ‘I see. So as soon as your ring is on my finger—’ she spread her fingers where the sapphires glittered ‘—you would immediately govern my actions, dictate what I may and may not do. You don’t even know what I am going to do.’

  ‘No, but I have my forebodings.’

  ‘Well, to answer your question, in the light of your forebodings, if you forbid me, my lord—then I would have to consider your demand carefully.’

  He would not let the deliberate formality rankle. ‘But would you ultimately obey, my lady?’

  The sparkle returned in those grey eyes in a definite challenge. ‘I don’t know,’ she stated honestly. ‘What would you do if I refused?’

  He could have pushed the confrontation, he supposed. Demanded her obedience as a conformable wife of not many hours’ standing. Instead he found himself caught up in the limpid translucent gaze that held his. And truth be told, he experienced a tremor of laughter at her sheer audacity. What a fascinating woman the new Countess of Venmore was turning out to be.

  ‘So? What is it to be, Luke?’ A tilt of the chin. ‘I think it is not in my mind to obey you. So do I do this thing with or without your blessing? Time is of the essence.’

  And, relaxing his fingers around her wrist, Luke capitulated because he knew he must. Without doubt she would defy him, seeing a duty to her fellow smugglers, and he did not want to put that burden on her tonight of all nights. His relationship with Harriette Lydyard was not going to be as smooth as he had anticipated. His mouth curved in wry appreciation of this new force in his life.

  ‘I suppose you have a duty to fulfil tonight. No, I’ll not give you my blessing, madam wife—but I think I’ll come with you.’

  Harriette stared in amazement, a smile softly curving her lips. This exact outcome had troubled her all evening—that Luke would disapprove and clash with her in sharp confrontation. Well, he did disapprove, but his reluctant acceptance soothed her heart. The light encircling of her wrist in his fingers drove a thrilling sparkle through her blood. Nor was it just the excitement of the run. The sparkle leaped into glittering flames when she saw Luke’s face soften into a smile. He was so beautiful, and he would not stand against her.

  ‘There’s no need. It’s a task of no more than five minutes and entai
ls no danger.’

  ‘As your husband I consider it my duty.’ Smoothly, he slid his hand from her wrist to take her hand in a companionable clasp, conscious of a spike of satisfaction, deep and warm, when Harriette gave a little laugh and returned the pressure.

  ‘Come then. It’s not dangerous, but it’s illegal. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  She led the way, carrying a branch of candles from the hall table, along abandoned corridors, then up a steep and narrow staircase that opened into a circular room in the Tower that rose up from the eastern wing of the house to overlook the cliff top. The view would have been magnificent, but the room was close shuttered. Harriette walked directly to the table in the window embrasure, pulled back the shutters and took up the tinder box that waited ready to hand. With skill of long usage she struck a flame and lit the large oil lamp. It glowed, sending out a strong and sure beam.

  ‘I take it there’s a run on tonight,’ Luke remarked laconically when Harriette did not bother to explain.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And the message from Mr Alexander’s boy?’

  ‘That all’s well for their return. It has to be now because of the tides. Too early, and there’s not enough cloud cover for comfort.’ She stood before the glass, a charming picture, he thought, spreading her fingers wide against it as she looked up at the racing clouds shimmering over the moon. The sapphires—his sapphires—glimmered balefully. ‘But it’s safe enough and no Preventive men on the cliff.’

  ‘So you’re signalling for them to come in.’

  ‘Yes.’ She slanted a look towards him. ‘It’s not legal, you know—to signal to a smuggling vessel.’

  ‘I know. How would my consequence survive if I were taken in the midst of so disreputable a task?’

  ‘You could claim all ignorance and put the blame on your wilful wife, who had wed you under false pretences.’ He saw her smile in the light from the lamp, her eyes shining pure silver.

  ‘Should I be amazed that you did not postpone the wedding so that you could sail with them?’