“Nay, lass,” he pushed back her hand with grim determination. “That would be too far.” He began to kiss her again and she held on to him as he began working his hand again, building up a sensation in her she feared may be the end of her.
“I never knew… don’t stop… oh my word,” panted Harriet.
Some sort of reaction was building inside her and she had a momentary worry the hay might actually combust, for it certainly felt as if she would explode.
“Is it… safe?” she gasped. He did not answer but kissed her again, and she knew he would not let her come to harm.
An all-consuming need drove her to this precipice, but far from avoiding it, she reached for it, straining, yearning, gasping, until something within her unleashed with wave after wave of pleasure. She closed her eyes and drifted into beautiful unconsciousness.
“Harriet?”
“I am not here.”
“We should return to the party.” His voice was mournful.
“I do not wish to return.”
“Are ye… well?”
Harriet opened her eyes. “I am fine. No, that can’t be right. I am beyond that. I have no words for it. And you?”
He lay back with his arms over his head as if surrendering. “I never knew how much I love science. My only disappointment is the experiment ended too soon.”
Harriet was about to comfort him and tell him not to worry, since they had years of experimenting ahead of them. In a flash, she realized none of that could be. He would not ask for her hand. She would not stay. They would be apart forever.
She busied herself in getting dressed. Perhaps if no one else could see it, she would be all right again. But how could she ever be content knowing what she had lost?
He helped her with the enclosures in the back. She stood on wobbly legs.
“Do I look all right?” she asked.
He reached toward her and pulled several strands of hay from her hair. “Ye are beautiful.”
Harriet shook her head. “I know I am not.”
“Aye, but ye are. Ye are to me.” The plain truth of the statement was in his eyes.
Harriet looked away and blinked the tears from her eyes. He was everything she wanted. And nothing she could have.
Twenty-nine
By the time Thornton and Harriet returned to the picnic, most people had already returned to Thornton Hall. They had stayed too long. Thornton’s stomach dropped at the realization.
“We should go down separately,” he said, though he did not wish to leave her.
“I suppose you are right,” she replied.
Despite her sturdy frame, she appeared vulnerable, and he wished he could spare her all harm, though he feared since they had publicly strolled away together and did not return until late, he had done the very thing he wished to avoid.
“Good afternoon, Miss Redgrave,” he said, though he wished to kiss her instead.
“Good afternoon, Lord Thornton.”
She walked down the main path, and he ran around a different way and approached the house from behind the stables. He entered the house from the side, just as she was walking in through the main door. Most of the guests were still milling about. He sneaked through a servants’ entrance and ducked inside a parlor, cracking the door so he could hear the reception she received.
“Why, Miss Redgrave,” said Miss Crawley in a voice so sweet it could rot her teeth, “I saw you leave in the company of Lord Thornton. Are you just now returning?”
“I went for a walk,” said Harriet.
“A ‘walk’—is that what you call it in America? We call it something different here,” said Priscilla. The young ladies around her began to titter.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” said Harriet. Her voice was tired.
“Do you not?” said Priscilla in a sly voice. “Too bad about those stains on the back of your gown. However did you get them?”
Thornton wanted to jump in to rescue her but held back, knowing if he did so it would only make the rumors worse.
“I’m sure we all have stains from sitting on the grass,” said Penelope with a carefree voice. “Let’s get dressed for dinner.” She linked arms with Harriet and walked upstairs.
“Little tart,” hissed Priscilla when Harriet was barely out of sight. “I’ve never seen such a large girl. I suppose she knows she cannot hope to find a husband without lifting her skirts.”
“I do believe she declared she was not inclined toward marriage,” said the Comtesse de Marseille. “Perhaps she is interested in a different occupation.”
Priscilla and her friends laughed with malicious enjoyment. “With that face she would have to pay the men to be seen with her.”
“That must explain why Lord Thornton, with his pockets to let, is often seen in her company,” said the comtesse.
The girls laughed again.
Thornton felt sick.
He slipped away from his vitriolic guests and dragged himself upstairs. He wanted peace. He needed to be alone. He was apprehended by his butler before he could reach his room.
“Lady Thornton awaits you in the map room,” said the butler with an odd look.
“The map room?” Thornton asked. It was a room in a little-used part of the house. It contained his father’s collection of maps and was one of the few rooms his mother had not renovated.
“Is everything well, my lord?” asked the butler in a hesitant voice.
Thornton opened his mouth to reassure the man, but realized he could not offer such reassurances. If the house was sold, the staff may also be replaced. Thornton sighed. He had not even thought of what would happen to his staff and his tenants if Thornton Hall changed hands. His butler, his back curved ever so slightly with age, awaited Thornton’s reply. It would not be well for him.
“I will speak to my mother,” said Thornton. He found his mother in the map room, but she was not alone. General Crawley was present, with a particularly nasty look on his red face. In a chair next to him was a sight so unexpected he stopped short. His mother, ever the fighter, was in tears. “Mother, what is the matter?”
She turned her face from his and said nothing.
“Lady Thornton has been informed that she may be spending some time in debtors’ prison,” said General Crawley with a snarl.
“O’ course she will not. Mother, please dinna give this man a second thought. Go upstairs, I will deal with him.” Thornton’s hands clenched. Once he had no witnesses, he was going to wring this man’s neck. How dare he threaten his mother?
“Why could ye no’ marry Miss Crawley?” wailed his mother. “Why did ye need to insult her?”
“Because I will not marry for money, and I would never marry Miss Crawley under any circumstances. She is a vicious little thing without compassion or remorse.”
“You will pay for your insults,” raged General Crawley. “I will see you both in debtors’ prison!”
“I do not know how ye managed to gain such access to my mother’s accounts, but I can see now it was calculated. If you are angry, it is with me alone. Ye will not threaten Lady Thornton. Ever.” Thornton spoke with quiet authority. He had fought with his mother, been furious with his mother, and at times wished her far from him, but nobody threatened her. Nobody.
“Do not underestimate my power, boy,” sneered Crawley. “If I want to see your mother in jail, I shall surely do it!”
“I say!” Sir Antony Roberts stood at the doorway, his snuffbox in hand. “Forgive the intrusion, but I feel that you are not quite acting the gentleman to our hostess.”
“This is none of your affair. Get out!” demanded Crawley.
“It is certainly not my affair, that we can agree upon. But I cannot see a lady in distress, refuse to help, and still call myself a gentleman.” Sir Antony snapped his snuffbox closed and strolled into the room as if entering a garden party.
“Thank you, sir,” said Lady Thornton, drying her eyes on a handkerchief.
“Here are my che
aters.” Sir Antony held up a pair of glasses from the table. “I have been greatly enjoying your maps, Lady Thornton.”
“They were my late husband’s,” said Lady Thornton.
“Shall we adjourn to the parlor?” Sir Antony held out his arm and she took it.
“Thank you,” mouthed Thornton as Sir Antony escorted her away.
“This is not over, boy,” growled Crawley.
“I believe it is. I shall speak to my solicitor about repaying the debts. We may need to sell Thornton Hall, but before ye start picking out the draperies, please know that I have no intention of selling to ye.”
“You don’t have a choice. Once you forfeit the loan I granted your mother, Thornton Hall is mine.”
“But I do not intend to forfeit the loan,” said Thornton mildly. “I have some assets yet.” He hoped if he sold every horse he owned, he could raise the blunt. It would be painful to sell everything he had worked for, but so be it. “Until then, I believe our solicitors should do our talking.” He turned and walked toward the door. “You can have nothing to say to Lady Thornton,” he said over his shoulder. “Do not inconvenience her again.”
***
“Should I ask what happened?” asked Penelope when she had safely returned Harriet to her room.
Harriet shook her head.
“Are you well?”
“I will be fine, but I will never be accepted here.”
“You may not ever claim Miss Crawley as a friend,” conceded Penelope.
“I should return to America as soon as possible.”
“I am sorry this house party has been a disappointment.” Penelope turned to go but paused, trying to find the right words. “If there is anything I can do…”
“No. Thank you.” Harriet was not her normal self. She seemed smaller. Sadder.
Penelope was not certain what had made her so sad. She had left Harriet sitting happily on a blanket with a tea sandwich in one hand and a biscuit in the other. What could have happened?
Penelope left Harriet with some reluctance and returned to her room, where the Dowager Duchess of Marchford was smiling.
“The pearls are gone,” said Antonia. “They must have been replaced for the fakes with Lord Langley. See, I told you it would all work out well.”
“Or someone stole your pearls and Langley is still in possession of the fakes,” said Penelope brutally.
“No! No, that could not be.”
“Truly? It could not be that a thief could have written that note to get everyone out of the house so he could steal the pearls and possibly some military plans on the side?”
“Whatever are you talking about?”
“Someone rifled through Marchford’s things. He suspects a spy.”
“That boy is overly concerned,” muttered Antonia.
“And you are altogether too trusting,” retorted Penelope. “Somehow we need to determine if the real pearls found their way to Lord Langley.”
A note arrived at that moment saying that Lord Langley was desirous of an audience in the yellow drawing room.
“What happened out there?” demanded Lord Langley when Penelope and the dowager entered the drawing room. “You are supposed to act as chaperones. Why am I hearing disrespectful talk about my granddaughter?” He paced the room as the duchess and Penelope found seats around the tea service that had kindly been set. It was a cheerful room, yellow as the name would suggest, and much in contrast to his demeanor at present.
“I believe Miss Redgrave took a walk,” said Penelope. “Unfortunately, there are some young ladies here who have caused some unpleasantness, as can happen. I hope we can refute or ignore false rumors.”
“Why is she not married yet?” Lord Langley demanded.
“Lord Langley, surely you realize we have not been long at Thornton Hall,” said the dowager mildly, but she clanked her spoon against her china cup as she stirred with uncharacteristic vigor.
“What of it? I was promised that this Madame X was a matchmaker extraordinaire.”
“Extraordinary, not miraculous,” said Penelope.
“For what I’m paying, I damn well expect miracles.”
“Watch your language and drink your tea,” commanded the dowager.
Lord Langley stopped pacing the room and sat down with a harrumph. With a grumble, he picked up his cup and sipped. “Still don’t know what’s taking so long.”
“These things take time. Affection must grow. Arrangements must be made,” said the dowager vaguely.
“Time? Doesn’t take time to fall in love. Takes an instant.”
Antonia looked up from her cup. “Does it?”
“Take my daughter. Met some American on the road, and within the week she was running away with him.”
“So you think your daughter fell in love with this American in an instant?”
“Well, how else do you explain it? And if she weren’t happy, she’d come home, now would she not? She’s not come back, thus she must love him.”
Antonia frowned at him. “Your powers of logic astound me.”
“It stands to reason. You know I am not romantic.”
“Yes, I am well aware of that fact.”
“But others let their emotions dictate their actions, like my daughter. She fell in love, so she followed him. Can’t explain it any other way. Why, I was like her once myself. Fell in love and proposed to you.”
Antonia’s teacup smacked down on the saucer. “You declare that you loved me?”
“How else would you explain why I proposed to you? You had no money, no connections, you were a most unsuitable choice.”
“I lived this once. I very much doubt after all these years I need to be subjected to a litany of all the reasons your mama found me unsuitable.” Antonia held herself with rigid hauteur.
“Not trying to offend.”
“Is that so?” Antonia raised a silver eyebrow. “Perhaps then you should try to offend and you might then avoid it.”
“What I am trying to say, if you would cease these interruptions, is that I fell in love with you in an instant. My daughter fell for her husband in an instant, and I expect my granddaughter would be afflicted with the same constitution. Find the man she is in love with and make him marry her. As long as the man has a title,” Lord Langley added.
“You have laid it out so simply, I do not know why we did not think of it before,” said Antonia with an arch look. “However, with Miss Redgrave, we are taking a more measured approach. We do not need to wait for fickle affection to grow; we can help her arrange a union that will be beneficial to both parties. She has a considerable dowry, so I believe we can entice one of these titled young men to make an offer.”
“No, no, I do not want her to marry a fortune hunter.”
“My dear Lord Langley, you never specified we could not entertain the offers of a fortune hunter, only that the fortune hunter needed to have a title,” said Antonia.
“No! I do not wish that for my granddaughter.”
“You did contract with a matchmaker, did you not? Are you backing out now?”
“No! I do want my Harriet to marry, but I want her to marry for love and I want the man she falls in love with to have a title. Why else would I let her come here? The guest list is so packed with members of the peerage you can hardly walk down the hall without tripping over an earl or a baronet.”
“Even Madame X cannot control with whom Miss Redgrave falls in love,” said Penelope.
Lord Langley sat back in his chair and shook his head. “I know,” he said softly. “I wish it were not true. At least it would be much easier if it was not true.”
“Why this concern about love? You are not a romantic man, remember?” accused Antonia.
“I remember. I remember I did my duty to my family. I married whom they wished to fulfill my obligations. I did not marry for love or happiness, and I found none.” His voice was low and rumbled like gravel. “I would wish for better for my granddaughter. I would not wish her to suff
er as I have.”
“Bah!” exclaimed the duchess. “What do you know of suffering?”
Langley sighed. “I did not realize how these emotions, once formed, are not likely to dissipate.”
“Even you would not suggest that you still harbor a tendre for me.” The dowager cast aside the notion as nonsense.
“Not suggesting. Telling. My feelings for you are unchanged, more’s the pity. What good does it do me now?”
Antonia shook her head. “I believe you have drifted into the land of the absurd.”
He took a biscuit and bit slowly, looking up to the corner of the room in a considering sort of way. “Does Madame X help people to fall out of love?”
“Now you are mocking me.”
“I am in earnest. I still have these feelings for you. Can’t shake them. Not doing me any good, are they?”
“Lord Langley, I believe you are having some sort of mischief with me. Your words are nonsense,” retorted Antonia.
“Perhaps we can let Madame X decide,” said Penelope. Both Antonia and Langley looked a bit startled, as if they had forgotten she was in the room. “Lord Langley, the duchess recently lost a pearl necklace to you. It had sentimental value. It was her mother’s. For the return of the necklace, we shall ask Madame X if she can assist in your request.” Penelope saw an opportunity to reclaim the pearls and snapped at it.
Langley shrugged. “If you wish for the pearls, you may have them. Though you should not bet things you care not to lose.”
“The cards were good!” defended Antonia as Langley walked out of the room. “I do not know what that man is playing at,” she added as soon as he left.
“You don’t suppose he may be telling the truth?” asked Penelope.
“Absurd. Ridiculous! Have you ever heard such fribble in your life?”
“I admit it would be unlikely that he had carried a torch for you so long, but it would be quite romantic.”
“It would be quite impossible. This is the man who abandoned me on my wedding day.”
“Perhaps he is sorry.”
“I could not care less whatever he is. That chapter in my life was closed long ago. The less we see of him the better. Once we have retrieved the pearls, we can be done with him forever.”
A Midsummer Bride Page 21
