“A perfect age. I personally thought I did a commendable job in picking out an appropriate pony. I had checked with your nanny. Although not an expert horsewoman as yourself, she has experience and is willing to oversee Victoria’s rides by walking to her side. She will be in no danger, if that is your concern. I can always hire a groom for the other side. Would you like for him to carry a pillow?”
"Do not jest, Lord Daneford," Mr. Padgett interrupted. "You need to consider the position you have placed Mrs. Whitmore."
"And that would be?" Arthur challenged.
"Surely, you understand that it's highly inappropriate for a lady to accept a gift from a man of your status." Mr. Padgett’s face hardened as he tilted his head to look directly at Arthur.
"Mr. Padgett, I don't believe there is a need to be concerned," Aunt Eleanor projected her feelings. "Victoria is quite excited..."
"Thank you for coming to my defense, Mrs. Spencer, but I'm beginning to think that perhaps it is not my gift but myself Mr. Padgett has issue with."
Before she thought, Harriet uttered, "Arthur...Lord Daneford…" Harriet stuttered. Feeling Mr. Padgett’s eyes upon her, she finished lamely, “I don’t believe… that is the case.”
"So it is Arthur." Mr. Padgett nodded to himself. Harriet saw the tension in his face as he added, "What more do I not know?"
Uncertainty flickered across her face. Slowly, his insinuation sank into her consciousness. She felt her face drain of all color. Aghast at his insult, she stared at the man. She should have known this would happen.
“Mr. Padgett, I cannot allow you to talk this way in my home. You are a guest,” Aunt Eleanor said in a reproving tone. “I am going to assume it is the liquor that is talking.”
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Spencer. I have the utmost respect for you. It is for this reason I have to call attention to some facts that have been presented to me.”
Downing his glass once more, Mr. Padgett reached into his waistcoat and pulled out a letter, wrinkled and worn as if it had been read many times. "I’m afraid you have been hoodwinked, as have I. This letter came a couple of days ago. At first, I refused to believe it. This could not be the woman I have known for the last year."
A long moment passed. Arthur stood without a hint of expression. Then he walked across and snatched the letter from Mr. Padgett’s hand. Reading over the contents, he frowned harshly. The muscle in his jaw twitched.
Immediately, Carlisle swept in front of Arthur. “Perhaps it would be best to postpone our dinner. Mr. Padgett, allow me to see you back to your home.”
“To hell you will!” Arthur’s eyes flashed fire. “He will not leave without an apology to Mrs. Whitmore.”
Harriet could only imagine what the letter held to cause such a reaction. She glanced over at Aunt Eleanor. Composed and refined, the lady gave no indication of distress. She gave Harriet a small smile.
“Language, Lord Daneford,” Aunt Eleanor interjected. “This is a simple misunderstanding. I’m certain someone has seemed fit to cause dissension between Mr. Padgett and Mrs. Whitmore.”
Mr. Padgett stood and stumbled slightly on the edge of the rug. He held out his hand. “I have the answers I sought. I need not bother you. I need only my letter back. If you would be so good, Lord Daneford…”
A moment of strained silence ensued. Harriet’s mind reeled with tension. She wanted to snatch the letter herself.
“Mr. Padgett, this is not my home, but as a guest and friend, I will tell you once and only once what a grave mistake you have made.” Arthur glared at the man. “I do not know who wrote this vindictive letter, but for you to hold any semblance of truth to the lies discredits your character.
“This I will tell you. At one time, I was engaged to Mrs. Whitmore.”
Taken back, Harriet’s cheeks flamed with indignation. Words choked in her throat. The world she had fought so hard to create was about to collapse around her.
“If you want to know the facts, Mr. Padgett, I will tell you.” Arthur looked over at her. “Harriet was my greatest mistake. I was too young and foolish to know what I had and I threw it all away. Harriet left me, Mr. Padgett. She chose to become Mrs. Nigel Whitmore because I could not give her what she desired the most, honesty and truth.
“As for Nigel, I owe him my life. We fought side by side on board the Royal Sovereign. When the admiral needed volunteers for a special mission, we went. We were captured, but managed to escape. During this escape, Nigel took a sword thrust in his hip. It was meant for me. It was from that injury he eventually succumbed.
“Given that information, do you now question the validity of my gift to Victoria?”
“The letter said…”
“If it held truth, why would the person not sign their name? It was sent to do exactly what it did, cause a rift between Mrs. Whitmore and yourself. Never have I understood the need to duel, until now. Be thankful that I have no wish to cause further scandal. My family has endured enough the last years. Now, get out before I throw you out.”
Jolted by the command, Mr. Padgett sobered up quickly. Carlisle wasted little time in escorting the man out of the room and to his home. Harriet could hear mumbling apologies until the door closed.
She turned and faced Arthur. Confusion reigned within her. Aunt Eleanor sat in stunned silence. Harriet didn’t know what to say. So she said nothing, turned and walked away.
* * * *
Sitting alone in the library, Arthur drank down the contents in his glass and waited for Carlisle’s return. He poured himself another. He read through the letter again, and then took another sip. Fear gripped him, but he had no time for the sentiment. He needed to think.
There was nothing worse than the sense of losing control—and he had no control of this situation.
An eerie silence encompassed the chamber lit with only the lamp on the desk. Not an overly large room, it held bookcases filled with books, but with the amount of dust collected on most, it seemed the room had not been used often. Heavy velvet curtains drawn gave no hint of the time of day, but Arthur knew well time was growing late.
Hearing footsteps walking down the corridor, Arthur looked up at the door. Not bothering to knock, Carlisle slipped into the room. In silence, he strode over to the desk and dropped a bundle of letters down in front of Arthur.
“Our Mr. Padgett wasn’t quite as forthcoming as he let on,” Carlisle said. “It did not take much to convince our friend it would be best for him to tell me the whole of the story. I believe his conscience got the best of him…”
Carlisle’s words faded with his hesitation. He swallowed hard and sat down in the high back chair facing Arthur. “Pour me one.”
Arthur poured another glass from the decanter. Leaning over the desk, he handed Carlisle his drink. He watched Carlisle sit back and waited for his explanation.
“I will confess I thought you fanciful,” Carlisle said, swirling his drink for a moment. “Padgett said that the letters started shortly after he moved here, which means it began before Sophia’s death. At first, he said he thought he had some sort of secret admirer. The letters held no meaning. Poetry. Sporadic. They had no pattern to their arrival.
“He didn’t connect the letters to Harriet until one of the letters suggested that if he was intending to wed her that he needed to address me in London. At the time, he took it to mean I was her only family and it would be the right course to undertake.”
“Why does it feel like we have been played?” Arthur asked. He picked up the bundle of letters. He held the stack in his vision, but his sight really turned inward. “After reading the letter Padgett had in his possession, I have no doubt someone wanted me here. The question becomes why?”
Carlisle reached over and picked up the well-read letter lying in front of Arthur. The room became quiet once more as he read. After he finished, he lay it back down on the desk. He wiped his mouth with his hand.
“Gawd! This is worse than I thought,” Carlisle said. “I think there is little doub
t now that someone harbors great resentment towards you, Arthur. It’s worrisome, for they know extensive details of your relationship with Harriet. Some I did not know myself.”
“Not all is true. It seems our mystery man is not above enhancing his details.” Arthur frowned deeply. “It’s probably the same tactic he used on Sophia. I hold little doubt it is the same person who taunted Sophia and pushed her to the edge of sanity. Whoever it is seems to have set their sights now on Harriet.”
Gathering his thoughts, Carlisle acknowledged the truth to the statement. “Only, I’m not certain of their intention.”
“It is what concerns me the most. Do not some of these letters seem strangely written? It is almost as if they are written in some kind of code…” Arthur halted his thought. He heard light footsteps.
A gentle rap sounded on the door. Opening it a crack, Harriet’s head angled around the edge. She looked at the two and eased inside.
She had not changed, wearing the same enchanting gown from the evening. Although, she had lost the shawl. Her fair hair, loosened from its topknot, fell loose around her shoulders. It would seem her maid had not been called to ready her for the night. Judging by her smoldering eyes, sleeping was the last thing on her mind. She had come for answers. Answers he did not have.
“May I enter?” she asked in a low voice. She did not wait for an answer but moved forward toward the desk.
Good Lord, he could not take his eyes off of her. The candlelight softened her face and enhanced the way her gown fell along her form. The cut of the neckline, while quite modest, caused his eyes to linger on the swell of her breast.
“It is late, Harriet,” Arthur said, nodding to Carlisle. “We were heading for our rooms.”
“Then I’m not interrupting.”
“Perhaps it would be best to address your concern in the morning.” Carlisle stood and walked towards her. Offering his arm, he continued, “I know the evening did not go well, but there is little to do tonight. All will seem better with the sun. Come, I will escort you back upstairs.”
Shaking her head, she walked past him and ignored his arm, her attention aimed directly at Arthur. Behind her, Carlisle silently motioned at Arthur to join him. For a moment, he considered the action. Then images assaulted him, images of Harriet…
Harriet hadn’t a clue of the potential danger surrounding her. He had no intention of revealing his suspicions to her. Though, if she wanted to talk to him—alone, he would give her the satisfaction.
“Go ahead, Carlisle. I will follow momentarily. It seems Harriet is determined to vent her frustration upon me.”
Suddenly, her assault on Arthur didn’t seem such a good idea as it had only moments earlier. For the last couple of hours, her frustration had festered in her room. She swore she had worn a hole in the rug from her pacing. She could take it no more.
She watched Arthur talk to Carlisle briefly, walking him to the door. Before the door closed, Carlisle glanced over Arthur at her. He wasn’t happy with the situation. Well, neither was she!
She had had it! This was her life! This man… this man who closed the door smugly behind his friend… had caused another disruption to her carefully laid plans. He had no right… no right. Then he turned to her and leaned back against the door. His arms folded, he stared at her in the candlelight with those eyes. Her heart fluttered.
Oh, no, she would not allow him to fluster her in this manner. She took a deep breath and a step back, mentally cursing her own stubbornness and lack of patience. She had to compose her gathering ire. She would need all her wits.
"You have my attention, Harriet. I'm all yours."
He smiled that smile of his, reigniting her simmering anger. Temper unleashed her tongue. "The letter. I want to see the letter. Do not bother telling me you don’t have it. I saw you kept it when Mr. Padgett left.”
“Harriet, please, it is late.” He said it simply but in essence dismissed her inquiry. “Go to bed. The matter will be dealt with.”
She shook her head. She wanted to scream at him, rage at him—to hurt him the way she hurt. “And leave it up to you! I think not. This is my life. I won’t have you destroy it on a whim.”
Immediately, she saw his expression visibly alter. Her words hit a mark she hadn’t intended. He grimaced and deepened his scowl. Only for an instant, but the pain he felt was undeniable. Unsettling silence ensued.
He finally said, “You are never going to forgive me. You believe what I did is unpardonable.”
“You hurt me, Arthur, beyond words,” she whispered, remembering the anguish she endured. She lowered her gaze, trying in vain to keep a semblance of composure. “I can’t do this with you here. I want you to go away. I need only to know what I face now.”
“I will set it all right. I have laid the foundation tonight. It was useless to deny our relationship, given the contents of the letter. What I did was to divert the truth. I did not lie, my dear. We were engaged," he rasped hoarsely. "And you did leave me."
“He will know… the village will discover my sin…” Her voice trembled, overcome with emotion. “Everyone will know I was not married… Aunt Eleanor… Victoria. How could you do this to me? Why? Why did you come?"
"What do you want me to say, Harriet? I came because I was jealous as hell. Is that what you want to hear? Then hear it well," he reasserted. "I am jealous as hell. I can't abide the thought of you with another man. But...in the end, you must know I want only your happiness. Carlisle told me that it is still your intention to marry this fellow."
Harriet raised her eyebrows and stared at him. If she didn’t know him better, she would have thought him sincere. "It is what I intended, but I doubt it will come about now."
He was quiet for a time. "Is it what you want? You love him...want him...dream of him the way I dream of you?"
She looked up at him. She couldn't breathe...think. He was too close and moved closer. She could not deny that his presence affected her, conjuring up dormant feelings she thought had died. How easy it would be to fall back under his spell. No… no… no. Too much had happened. She couldn’t trust him.
"There's no use looking back and wondering what could have been. I have to think of Victoria."
He reached over and guided her face up to his. Her body made no protest, reveling in his touch as renewed sensations cascaded through her.
"Yes, Victoria," he breathed against her lips. "You believe this life is best for our daughter. So if Mr. Padgett is what you want, I give my word I will make it right for you.” His lips touched hers. “But if you remember what we had… could have again."
He kissed her, lightly, feathering kisses over her lips, cheeks, down her neck to that special sensitized spot. Cravings for this man surged forth. Shocking cravings she thought long dead. She wanted him.
Somewhere in her consciousness, she heard a dull, faint voice urging caution. Vague and indistinct. With each kiss, the voice quieted into a silence.
“I want you, Harriet,” he whispered. “Trust me.”
Trust me resonated around her. A harsh flash of remembrance brought the pain of another time she had given him her trust. Breathlessly, she said, "I can't...I would never survive another lie from you..."
Her eyes met his. Slowly, she backed away; with each step, she felt her heart rip apart.
He made no movement for her. Instead, he said, "I’m sorry for so much over the last few years. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I lost you. But you want me to apologize for loving you? For doing anything I could to have you in my life? I can’t. I can’t say I’m sorry I love you.
“I know you have suffered, but know I never intended to hurt you. I needed you. I knew you well enough to know you would never accept the only thing I could offer. It was only the thought of losing you was too much to bear. I had no plan other than living with you… loving you.”
Something in his eyes, or perhaps it was the words, made her pause. The abyss in her heart filled with a longing where logic had no place. Her
breath became shallower with each step he made towards her.
She leaned upward into him. He intertwined his hands in her hair and pulled her up to his lips. He kissed her. She was lost.
Desperation drove their desire that had been denied for so long. In her next breath, he had her pressed against the wall. She gave no resistance. Instead, she offered herself to him. He answered her invitation with an insatiable hunger.
He spoke no words, asked no permission. He had no need. She wanted this. She wanted him. She arched towards him, urging him to take her. She was his to command.
Shuddering under his touch, the whole of her body gave into the madness that centered on this man. The dam of emotions she held within her burst with a longing that resurged for his kiss… his caress… his love. In the far recesses of her mind, it was her voice she heard calling his name.
She pulled him to her, but in swift motion he pushed her back and gripped her dress. Using both hands, he lowered the sleeves of her gown from her shoulder and freed her breast from her bodice’s hold. He ravished her with his lips—her face, her neck, her breast. His mouth fastened on her nipple, unleashing wonderful sensations. Her self-control shattered.
In a blur of primitive need, nothing mattered at this moment but her wanton desire and the relief only he could give. His head rose to meet her lips while his hands pulled up her skirt. His evident arousal pressed against her. She could stand it no longer. She had to have him in her.
Shamelessly, she begged, “Arthur, please. I want you.”
He took her against the wall. She shifted to accommodate him as his hands traveled over skin, prodding her legs to open. She caught her breath when he entered her slick readiness, not softly but in an almost violent fashion. He thrust in her, again and again.
She felt him as she never had before. He didn’t relent. Hard thrusts, deeper and deeper into her, evoked pulsations that radiated outward into a cascade of exquisite sensations. They joined in an intense rhythm, quickening, heightening his power over her until she exploded into spinning ecstasy.
Seductive Lies Page 13
