And even if she didn’t get asked to dance, at least Aunt Susan would see she was doing her best, for once. It was not much to do for her, but at least Aunt Susan would feel she’d made a success out of transforming Harriet from a country bumpkin to a society miss.
The moment they entered the ballroom Kitty’s usual crowd of admirers began to gather round, asking for various dances throughout the evening. And since Kitty couldn’t possibly dance with all of them at once, Harriet managed to snare one or two of her leftovers, by the simple ruse of smiling hopefully up at them.
* * *
Mr Swaffham was the first to lead her on to the dance floor. This time, instead of merely concentrating on getting through the steps without mishap, she put herself out to make sure he enjoyed himself, paying rapt attention to everything he said and smiling at him frequently. She felt drained by the time he returned her to Aunt Susan’s side at the end of the dance, but at least he didn’t look as though dancing with her was a poor substitute for standing up with the girl he really admired.
On any other night, Aunt Susan would probably have congratulated her for making so much effort. But tonight, it was Aunt Susan who was fidgeting, and sighing, and generally looking thoroughly miserable. It was probably due to the fact that Uncle Hugo was nowhere in sight. The moment both she and Kitty had secured partners, he’d taken himself off in the direction of the refreshment room. Taking all Aunt Susan’s self-esteem with him, by the looks of things.
What her aunt needed was something to put the heart back in her. Though Harriet could not think what.
But then she spotted the perfect opportunity, in the person of Lord Becconsall.
‘Oh, look,’ she said, in a desperate attempt to dispel the cloud of despondency hanging over her aunt like a greasy grey cloud. ‘It is Lord Becconsall, just come in.’
‘Hmm?’ Lady Tarbrook brought her attention back to the ballroom with a visible effort. ‘Oh, yes. That handsome young wastrel who has been showing an interest in you.’
‘The one who spoke of matrimony the first time we danced,’ Harriet reminded her shamelessly. ‘The one you said has not danced with anyone else this Season.’
‘The one,’ said Aunt Susan drily, ‘for whom you have been looking everywhere we’ve been these past few days. Unless I am very much mistaken.’
‘Um, yes.’ Well, there was no point in denying it. Even though it would probably mean a lecture for wearing her heart too much on her sleeve.
‘Is your heart fixed on him, then?’
What sort of a question was that? Usually, Aunt Susan’s first concern was with a gentleman’s pedigree and fortune. Whether Harriet liked him or not was an irrelevancy when it came to his matrimonial worth.
‘I…well, that is…’ No, she couldn’t admit that she still tingled all over whenever she dwelled on his kiss. Even the thought of it was making her go hot.
‘Your blush is answer enough. Attract him, if you wish, then,’ said Aunt Susan gloomily. ‘Better a husband who makes your heart flutter to start with, than one who is chosen for you by your parents, who you have done your best to like, and to please, for years, and for what? To discover he never trusted you!’
Harriet winced. She had no idea how to cope with moods of this sort. Nobody ever had them at Stone Court. They just…got on with life. Even when she’d been a very little girl, nobody had ever bothered to cajole her into a good mood if she was ill or out of sorts, so she had absolutely no idea how to do the same for someone else. Why, even when her pony had put its foot down a rabbit hole, tossing her over his head with such force she’d broken her arm, nobody had done more than chuck her under the chin and say they were proud of her for not making a fuss when the groom who was with her set the bone.
She twisted her fan between her fingers, wishing she could say, or do, something to cheer her aunt up. And found herself looking, beseechingly, in the direction of Lord Becconsall.
As if in answer to her silent plea for help, he made his way across the increasingly crowded ballroom to where they were sitting.
‘Good evening, Lady Tarbrook, Lady Harriet,’ said Lord Becconsall, bowing from the waist.
Instead of simpering and gushing, Aunt Susan looked him up and down, as though she wasn’t sure what to make of him.
‘Have I,’ he said, looking a touch uncomfortable, ‘offended you in some way?’
‘Oh, not at all, my lord,’ said Harriet. And then almost shuddered. Because, to her utter disgust, what had just emerged from her lips could only be described as a simper. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ And with the feeling of in for a penny, in for a pound, she lowered her head and darted a look up at him from beneath her eyelashes, in the prescribed manner to indicate modesty, yet interest, at the same time.
He blinked.
‘Ah, um. What was I about to say?’
‘That you feared you had offended me in some way and was about to explain what gave you that idea,’ she said. And then, from nowhere but her own desperation, she hit upon what could be the very thing.
‘Though, of course, I was terribly disappointed you did not come on the picnic.’
And then she blushed. Because that sounded rather too desperate and she didn’t want to scare him off.
‘I fear the prospect of sitting on damp ground and eating stale sandwiches did not appeal,’ he said.
‘Oh, but the sandwiches were not stale. All the food was positively delicious,’ she gushed. Oh, lord, she was sounding like a complete ninny. Fortunately, her attempts to behave exactly the way a debutante should appeared to amuse Lord Becconsall. At least, his eyes were twinkling now and his lips relaxing from the rather grim line in which he’d been holding them when he first approached.
‘I hope you are not about to reprimand me for dereliction of duty,’ he said playfully.
Which was a sort of quip. She was supposed to laugh at a man’s attempts at humour, no matter how feeble.
And so she did. At least, she tittered. To her shame. The sound emerging from her mouth was such an artificial, brittle sound she was sure even Aunt Susan would say she’d gone too far. But, having darted a look at her from the corner of her eye, it was to see her aunt was gazing into space, her mouth pinched up in very obvious bitterness.
Harriet gave up.
‘The truth is we are all a bit out of sorts this evening. We have had a…that is…’ She racked her brains for a plausible excuse to give him which would account for Aunt Susan’s mood, without giving away any family secrets.
‘We had an unexpected visitor,’ she said, finally hitting on an excuse that was near enough to the truth to be useful. ‘It set us all at sixes and sevens.’
‘A visitor?’
‘Yes. My mother.’
He cocked his head to one side, eyeing her as though he wasn’t sure what to expect from her next. ‘I beg your pardon, but I fail to see…’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ she said crossly. ‘Are you going to ask me to dance, or not?’
On any other night, such a comment would have shocked Aunt Susan to the core. Tonight she didn’t even seem to notice.
But Lord Becconsall did. His eyes flicked from her, to her aunt, and back again, thoughtfully.
‘I think I should ask you to dance.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, leaping to her feet and placing her hand on his forearm, before he’d even had the chance to extend it in her direction.
‘I sense a mystery,’ he said softly as they made their way to the dance floor.
‘Oh, very observant of you,’ she said sarcastically. And then mentally kicked herself. Hadn’t she vowed she would be all sweetness and light tonight? To prove that Aunt Susan’s lessons in how to behave around eligible men were bearing fruit?
‘I mean, yes, how observant of you,’ she said, shooting him what she
hoped was a worshipful smile.
‘Oho! Now my curiosity is really roused. What on earth can have happened to dull the edge of that sharp tongue of yours? And were you actually attempting to flirt with me just now?’
Attempting? She had flirted. She’d given him the benefit of a coy look, and a simper, and a titter, and had rounded it all off by fluttering her eyelashes.
‘Absolutely not,’ she snapped back. ‘I never flirt. And if I was to start, you may be sure I would not waste my time flirting with you.’
‘That’s better,’ he said affably. ‘I was beginning to worry that the strain of being polite to me might give you the headache.’
The beast! He’d deliberately goaded her into losing her temper.
Making sport of her, to be precise. If only it wouldn’t cause a scene, she’d march right back to her chair and leave him standing on the dance floor alone.
But it would. And her aunt had enough on her plate without that. So she had to satisfy herself with shooting him a daggers look as they took their places in the set forming.
The only effect it had on him was to make his grin a touch triumphant.
But at least during the dance she didn’t have to speak to him again. And as she concentrated on performing her steps correctly, she also, almost, regained control over her annoyance.
* * *
When the dance ended, instead of leading her directly back to where Aunt Susan was sitting, Lord Becconsall steered her in the opposite direction.
‘Um, what are you doing?’
‘I thought you would benefit from a short turn on the terrace,’ he replied.
‘What?’ She whipped her hand from his sleeve as though it had burned her.
Far from looking offended, he looked at her with respect.
‘You have learned your lesson, I see, since the last time I got you alone.’
‘Yes, and—’
‘But if you come out on to the terrace with me, we shall not be alone. I have already observed several other couples going out to take the air.’
‘Oh.’ What game was he playing now? She’d assumed he’d been sending her a message by not attending the picnic. Which she’d interpreted as a declaration that she must not look upon him as a prospective suitor. But now he was behaving just like a man who was determined to fix his interest with her.
‘Look, there is even a maid, waiting to hand out shawls to protect the shoulders of young ladies from the night air. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a footman out there, serving refreshments,’ he said as a final inducement.
Why he wanted to take her outside was a mystery, but if she were truly serious about wanting to discover whether or not she could consider marrying him, then she’d leap at the chance to spend a little time in relative privacy. And it would be just what Aunt Susan would expect.
‘Oh, very well,’ she said, far from graciously. ‘But don’t…try anything.’
‘Try anything?’ He looked at her in mock surprise. With just a dash of innocence thrown in for good measure. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
She heard a noise well up in her throat which was rather like a growl. Which appeared to amuse him immensely. Because he was chuckling as he took the proffered shawl from the maid stationed by the double doors, and draped it round her shoulders himself.
‘There,’ he said with what sounded like satisfaction. And took his time removing his hands from her person.
And just like that, she was reliving the moment they’d been lying together on the grass. He with his arms wrapped tightly round her, and she…melting into him.
She sucked in a short, shocked breath and inhaled the scent of him, since he was standing so close to her. And it was just like smelling the kiss. Or The Kiss, as she was coming to think of it.
Until this moment, she hadn’t known that she’d remembered what The Kiss had smelled like. Or that a kiss could even be said to have a smell. Only now, breathing in the scent of his clothes, and his…well, she supposed it was his body, too…did her nostrils detect the absence of crushed grass, and horse, and even the brandy fumes that had sweetened his breath.
He frowned at her. ‘What is it? What is troubling you?’
‘Wh-what?’ She had to give herself a mental shake. Now was not the time to wish she was in the park, or in a stable, or some other location suitable for snatched kisses.
He took her by the arm and steered her away from the door.
‘I can see you are deeply troubled, Lady Harriet,’ he said, setting up a pace that anyone watching them would describe as a casual stroll. ‘About your aunt, at a guess.’
‘What makes you think that?’
He chuckled. ‘Lady Harriet, you are practically doing cartwheels in the attempt to restore her to her normal frame of mind.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Yes, you do. Nothing but the direst need would have induced you to come outside with me like this. Not after the…er…lesson you received in the park that morning.’
She glowered up at him as he described what she was starting to regard as one of the most pleasant experiences of her life as a lesson.
‘But we are not alone. As you pointed out, there are several other couples taking the air. As well as a brace of single gentlemen poisoning their lungs with cigar smoke.’
He drew her to a halt and turned her to face him.
‘If you don’t want to tell me, I can understand that. But don’t take me for a fool, Lady Harriet.’
She didn’t. Lord Becconsall, for all his playfulness, was nobody’s fool. He was the only man tonight who had noticed that anything was amiss with her aunt. The only man who’d bothered to enquire about it. The only one to seem to care.
Oh, how she wished she could tell him all about it. That they could revert to the easy way they’d got into, albeit briefly, of talking about all sorts of personal things. Like his odious brothers and her inability to choose clothes wisely. But she couldn’t. He’d made a strategic withdrawal when she’d asked him if he was going on that picnic. She’d seen it in his eyes. She supposed she should be glad he was doing what he could not to raise false hope in her heart. It was honourable of him. If he were a different sort of man he could very well use the easy way they’d got into of speaking to each other to take advantage. Right now he could be luring her into a darkened corner and kissing her again. She wouldn’t resist. And he knew it.
She whirled away from him, clasping her hands to her breast.
He followed, her, laid his hands on her shoulders, and turned her round, a questioning expression in his eyes.
‘Lady Harriet?’
‘I…I cannot!’ She gulped. ‘Ask me about something else, instead. Or let me tell you all about the picnic.’
‘The picnic?’
‘Yes. You would have enjoyed it immensely, you know. Some of the girls there behaved really badly. First of all Miss Angstrom got stung by a bee and let loose a screech that set all the dogs for miles around howling. And then, when Miss Jeavons saw that it made certain gentlemen take notice, she pretended to faint.’
For a moment, it looked as if he was going to object to her conversational choice. But then he half-shrugged, as though giving in.
‘How do you know she was only pretending?’
‘Because she sort of slid all the way down Lord Lensborough’s front, then landed in a graceful pose right at his feet.’
‘Did she?’ He almost smiled at that.
‘Yes, and then his younger brother, Captain Challinor, dashed a cup of water in her face. Which brought her round in a twinkling.’
‘Water has a tendency to do that. I wonder you didn’t try that remedy on me when you found me in a similar condition.’
‘Oh, well, there wasn’t a river nearby to fetch it from. Or any empty glass
es to hand.’
He gave her a look.
‘I know what you are doing, Lady Harriet,’ he said.
‘Isn’t it for the best?’
He turned away from her and leant his hands on the balustrade bordering the terrace. ‘Yes,’ he said grimly. Causing something inside her to curl up and whimper.
Until that moment, she hadn’t realised just how lonely she was. Only now that he was agreeing with her, that it was best they maintain a distance from each other, did she understand just how badly she wanted to confide in him. To unburden herself. Even ask him for help.
‘It…it really isn’t my secret to tell.’
‘I understand,’ he said, turning to look at her over his shoulder. ‘And I commend your loyalty.’
‘You…you do?’
‘Yes, and, Lady Harriet, should there be any way in which I may be of service…’
‘There isn’t,’ she said more sharply than she’d intended. ‘And don’t ask about it any more.’
He raised his hands as if in surrender. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
And now she was angry with him for giving in so easily.
‘You had better take me back to my aunt now.’
‘Very well,’ he said, without even making a token protest.
Well, naturally not. Because he didn’t really care. This was all some kind of game to him. He’d told her so. She wasn’t sure yet what part he wanted her to play in his game, but the one thing she did know was that she couldn’t rely on him.
No matter how much she wished she could.
Oh, how she wished she’d never come out here. Well, that was one thing that was easily remedied. All she had to do was go back inside.
And so, giving him one last look which she hoped revealed how disappointed in him she was, she whirled away from him and marched across the terrace with her fists clenched.
CHAPTER NINE
‘Lady Harriet, wait!’
Lord Becconsall grabbed her hand before she’d gone more than a couple of paces from him and placed it on his sleeve, matching his own pace to her stride.
Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718) Page 31
