Damsel in Distress? Page 5

  After Cressandra left, Harriet opened the paper. She flicked through most of it. Nothing seemed familiar, but she stopped at the gossip section.

  A certain gentleman has been missing from the usual events these last few weeks. Perhaps something or someone has taken his interest from the marriage mart. But what, or should I say who, has captured his attention?

  Harriet wondered who the mystery man was and why anyone cared that he wasn’t attending balls and parties.

  It became a ritual for the next week for Cressandra to bring the paper up after breakfast. And as Harriet began to recover from her ordeal, they would chat about what had been going on in the world outside Harriet’s window.

  She got stronger every day and spent most of her days sitting in the sun at the window seat. When Cressandra left, Harriet would quickly flick to the gossip section to see what was written about the mystery gentleman.

  Today was a surprise.

  It is a great pleasure to inform you all, dear readers, that tonight our certain elusive gentleman will be attending Lord and Lady Bingham’s ball for surely even he wouldn’t dare miss that!

  Harriet was putting the paper down when Philip came into the room. She smiled up to him in greeting and handed him the paper.

  “I see you are up and about today.” He smiled at her as she rose from the window seat and walked towards him. “I was hoping you were out of bed.”

  She laughed. “Philip, I have been ‘out of bed’ for days now, as you well know. I just wish you would let me come out of my room.”

  “That’s why I’m here. Come sit down, and I’ll tell you my plan.” He led her back to the window and handed her down to her seat. He remained standing. There wasn’t enough room on the seat for two without touching and he didn’t want to risk it. Not after the night she’d slept in his arms. A night he couldn’t erase from his thoughts.

  Now she was feeling better he didn’t feel he needed to sleep in the chair next to her bed and the stronger she got, the more he felt pulled to her. He tried to limit contact with her during the day but made sure he still came to see her at night before she went to sleep.

  He looked down at the paper in his hands and smiled. His sister had been visiting. He was glad Cressandra made the effort; she had been busy heading off the gossips all week. Especially since that fool woman had started writing about him in the paper. What rubbish! As if he was ever interested in the marriage mart.

  “Tonight I am going to my friend’s ball. Lady Bingham always puts on a wonderful affair and I was wondering if you felt well enough to attend?”

  Harriet looked at him in surprise, “Are you the certain elusive gentleman?”

  It was not the reaction he was looking for. “What?”

  Chapter 13

  There was no cause to be nervous, Harriet kept telling herself as she looked in the mirror, but the butterflies in her stomach weren’t listening. An entire colony had taken up residence there.

  Rebecca, the maid Cressandra had assigned her, tucked the last jasmine flower into her hair and smiled at her handiwork. “You’ll be the loveliest lady there, miss, that is for sure. These flowers smell divine; you won’t need any perfume. Lord Eaglestone will be the envy of all the gents, you just wait and see.”

  Rebecca’s smile was infectious and despite feeling as though she could lose her lunch at any moment, Harriet smiled in return. Rebecca had managed to transform her into a princess.

  The maid dabbed a light blushing of rouge on Harriet’s cheeks and handed her the tube Mrs Johnson had found in her clothing the night she arrived. The label lip gloss gave Harriet a fair idea as to what was inside. She twisted off the lid and slowly pulled it away from its base. A long-handled brush slid out of the tube revealing shiny gloss on its tip.

  Both she and Rebecca looked at it for a moment before her maid could hold her tongue no longer. “Well, put it on. Oh miss, that looks lovely, like you’ve just been kissed!”

  “It tastes like strawberries,” Harriet laughed, smacking her lips together.

  They were still giggling when a knock sounded on her door and Cressandra poked her head in.

  Rebecca’s smile disappeared and she instantly became the maid again and started tidying away the leftover flowers.

  Harriet looked at her curiously but Cressandra swooped into the room. Her presence was not one you could ignore.

  “Stand up, Harriet, let me see you. Oh yes, Rebecca did a lovely job on your hair and I just knew that gown would look better on you that me. The colour is absolutely stunning next to your skin.” Cressandra leaned closer. “What is that on your lips?” she asked. “They look wet.”

  “Ummm, it’s umm, lip gloss,” Harriet stammered holding the tube up for Cressandra to see. She wasn’t sure why she felt guilty for wearing some gloss on her lips.

  “Are you certain you wish to wear it? It does make you appear as though you have just been kissed. It may give the men present tonight the wrong impression.”

  Harriet was sure she heard Rebecca say under her breath, “And it smells like strawberries.” Harriet had a hard time supressing a smile when she looked at Cressandra. She couldn’t, however, risk opening her mouth with the laughter lurking on the other side of her lips.

  “Well, if you are quite certain, I’m sure Philip won’t object. Come on then, the carriage will be waiting.” Cressandra breezed from the room, leaving Harriet little option but to hastily grab her wrap and rush out the door and follow her down the stairs.

  ***

  Philip didn’t think anything could steal his breath away like it did on the night Harriet was attacked in the park, but as he watched Harriet descend the stairs, his lungs stopped working. He didn’t care. If his last vision in this world was of an angel walking towards him with flowers in her hair and a smile lurking on her wet lips, he would die a happy man. The crystals on her silver gown caught the light of the chandelier above, sending prisms of colour dancing across the walls with each step she took. A faint smell of strawberries permeated the air and he longed to kiss the moisture off her lips.

  “Philip, close your mouth,” Cressandra admonished him out the side of her lips.

  His teeth snapped together with a crack and finally his lungs filled with oxygen. He was light-headed and had the overwhelming desire to sit down, preferably with Harriet on his knee, but otherwise reality had returned.

  When had the protectiveness he felt towards Harriet been replaced by desire? He had always found her attractive, especially since her bruises started to fade. Of course finding her naked in her bed had helped stir the flames as well, but this? This was a feeling he was not familiar with. Something other than pure lust burned through his veins. Something he wasn’t prepared to analyse. Not right now, not with Harriet and his sister watching him so closely.

  Harriet reached his side and the smile she had been hiding burst into full illumination. His gaze stayed on her lips, the desire to lick them was more than he could bear. He turned to the door without offering either woman his arm.

  “Philip?” his sister called from the doorway. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Damnation,” he muttered under his breath. “I could use a drink right about now.” He walked back up the steps to the women waiting in the entrance of the house for him to escort them to the ball. If he was this distracted now, how was he going to manage with a hundred other men in the presence of Harriet tonight, he wondered as he handed them into the carriage?

  Chapter 14

  Their names rang out through the crowd as their arrival was announced to the room. As one, the entire congregation turned to watch them descend the stairs.

  White prevailed as the colour of choice for most of the women in the room. Harriet felt as though she had walked into a bridal convention. There were colours of course, some women wore bright bold reds and greens, but they were worn either over or under the seemingly prerequisite white dress. Colour flashed from earrings and pendants, the odd shawl wove a bright thread o
f gold or red through pale buff. Diamonds shone in the flickering candle light, adding sparkle to the atmosphere.

  Harriet could feel every single eye of the room upon her. “Why are they staring at us, Philip?” she asked out the side of her mouth. It was with great relief that her foot finally touched the floor at the bottom of the stairs without her having made a fool of herself by stumbling down the steps into the ballroom.

  “I have no idea.” His voice sounded strained and when she turned to look at him, his jaw was clenched tight.

  “Oh Philip, you know exactly why everyone is staring,” Cressandra said from his other side. “The only person you have ever escorted to anything is me. And of course it doesn’t help with what the lady in the gossip column has written.” She looked at Harriet and they shared a smile. “They all think you, Harriet, have been the one to capture his attention.”

  Harriet felt a blush creep up her neck and hoped the dimness of the room would hide it from Cressandra’s sharp eyes. No such luck.

  Cressandra threw back her head and laughed. “Well, I see he has captured your attention too!” She wandered off into the crowd, still laughing.

  “I apologise on my sister’s behalf. That was not at all ladylike and she had no right to embarrass you tonight. I’m sorry.” Philip spoke low so no one else would hear their conversation. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some of the other women,” he said as he swiped two glasses of champagne from a passing tray. He handed her one and downed his in one great gulp.

  “Thirsty, Philip?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

  “What?” he asked looking startled. “Oh.” He looked at his empty glass. “I need a little liquid courage before I walk among the wolves.”

  She followed his eyes to the groups of women scattered around the room looking in their direction and whispering behind their fans. Harriet peered into her own glass. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said, raised the flute to her lips and drained the lot.

  Unfortunately by the time Philip led her to the first group the heat that’d warmed her insides and given her confidence was long gone and she found herself wishing something stronger than champagne was available.

  Philip, the coward, left her amongst the smiling women soon after introducing her, making excuses about finding their hosts. As soon as he was out of sight, the smiles that’d graced the ladies’ faces moments before turned into sneers.

  “So, Miss Harriet,” a blonde lady in a debutante’s white dress said in a sickly sweet tone, “how did you become acquainted with our Lord Eaglestone?”

  Sarcasm rolled in waves off the blonde beauty. How could Philip be so cruel by leaving her with these vultures? Harriet felt the flush of embarrassment colour her face, but she pushed it away and straightened to her full height.

  “Oh,” she replied, forcing a lazy drawl, “Philip and I have known each other for years, Miss…what did you say your name was again?”

  “Lisa Penderson,” the blonde said haughtily, as though the name should mean something.

  “Ah, yes Miss Penderson.” Harriet paused for a long moment with a thoughtful look schooled on her face. “I can’t say I recall a Miss Penderson coming up in any conversation with Philip. We do always discuss the nicest-looking ladies in the ton though, so really, maybe that’s not all that much of a surprise then is it?” Harriet smiled sweetly at Miss Penderson and her friends before she walked away, leaving them with their mouths gaping open.

  Her hand shook as she obtained a new glass of champagne and pressed it to her lips, not really wanting the drink, but wanting to appear in control and unaffected by the conversation.

  She made sure she kept her head held high and her back straight until she was well out of sight of them. She also made sure she didn’t stop and talk to anyone else. She scanned the room for Philip and Cressandra. Surely they wouldn’t have gone far?

  At last she spotted Cressandra, but she was deep in conversation with a lady who looked eerily like the debutante she had just insulted. Harriet had no desire to meet her mother.

  She turned and ducked behind a pot plant before Cressandra could see her and call her over. The smell of beeswax was strong in the corner she found. She looked up and quickly stepped to the side as a stream of wax slid from the sconced candle on the wall above her. The stream slowed to a drip. When each drop hit the floor, light shimmied across the enclosed space as the wick swam in the liquid wax. With each candle in the entire room joining in, the lights cast their own shadows across the room, seeming to dance with the music along with the guests on the dance floor. The pool of wax grew beneath her candle and she wondered how the staff would remove it from the floor in the morning.

  Her eyes were drawn to Philip as he entered the room. He paused in the doorway and scanned the crowd. Incredibly his eyes found hers almost at once. A smile tipped the corner of his mouth and he pushed his way through the ever-increasing number of guests until he reached her side.

  “I can’t believe you left me with those women,” she blurted out before he could open his mouth.

  “I’m sorry”, he mumbled and looked at his shoes, steadfastly avoiding eye contact.

  “You do realise, Philip, they think we are more than friends?”

  That got his attention. His head shot up in surprise. “How can they know?”

  “Know what, Philip?” Harriet was starting to think they were having two different conversations.

  “Never mind,” he mumbled again, and started walking off to leave her to her own devices. He stopped within a few footsteps and drew to his full height.

  Harriet’s gaze followed his to the doorway. A man had just entered the ballroom. He strutted like a peacock, each step a precise movement to gain the most attention. His head swung slightly back and forth with each footstep, rocking his shoulders with his stride across the room. Ladies’ eyes fastened on him and followed his progress. The men’s did too, but for different reasons. It didn’t take a genius to see the distaste in Philip’s eyes, a look mirrored by many of the men around them. The man’s clothes were tight and left no room for the imagination as to what lay underneath. Harriet was amazed he could walk with trousers that tight.

  “That’s Lord Writeson,” Philip said, moving back to stand at her side. “Stay away from him,” he said. He led Harriet back into the corner and handed her down into a seat, well away from the dripping wax. “Would you like me to fetch you a refreshment? Or perhaps a piece of cake?”

  “So now you’re going to be nice to me?” She laughed. “I’m fine. I think I drank too much champagne already.”

  Philip’s eyebrow arched. “Did you now? May I ask what has led you to drink?”

  Harriet smiled into his eyes. “You,” she said with another laugh. It came out incredibly close to a giggle.

  Philip feigned shock. “Me?” he asked. “Whatever have I done to make you foxed?”

  Harriet couldn’t resist leaning her head briefly on his shoulder. “You, dear Philip, left me alone in a room full of she-devils. Whatever was I supposed to do?”

  A smile touched his lips as he looked down at her resting so trustingly next to him and his heart swelled with longing. He knew they shouldn’t stay long in this position, even in an enclosed corner. He didn’t want to force her into a future she didn’t wish for if they were spotted. He shifted slightly away.

  “Have I ever told you about my childhood, Harriet?” He cringed as soon as the words came out of his mouth. In searching for a subject, surely he could have chosen one slightly less painful? He looked at her, hopeful she hadn’t heard him but the expression on her face told him otherwise.

  “Do you wonder why I live with my sister? And why the house is hers not mine? You would think a man of my means could afford my own residence, wouldn’t you?” He didn’t wait for her to reply to his questions, he already knew her answer. Everyone wanted to know. He’d been asked those very questions countless times. But he had never answered them…until tonight.

  He shifted in hi
s chair; it wasn’t his seat that was uncomfortable but rather his thoughts. “Our parents live not that far away, just down the street. They are here tonight, in fact.” He paused for a moment. “I should introduce you to them.” Philip couldn’t sit any longer. He stood up and started to pace. Their hiding place was only four paces wide and he felt like a caged animal in here. “You could say I grew up like any other son of a Lord. Pampered, some would say.” He stopped pacing right in front of her and looked down into her upturned face. “I wouldn’t call getting beaten every day pampered. But who am I to complain?”

  “Philip.” Harriet gasped at the pain she saw etched on his handsome face. His business-like manner belied his feelings. She reached a hand out to him and drew him back down into the seat beside her. She felt sick to her stomach. How could anyone beat a child? Especially their own.

  He slumped in his chair and made sure he was seated a distance away from her, but he didn’t release her hand. Something in him couldn’t let go of the connection. “It was mostly for not minding my manners. I had a pretty sharp tongue when I was a babe. But there were a few years in my youth I was afraid to say anything in front of my father in fear of feeling his strap. I learned quickly enough that saying nothing was worse. I couldn’t win. If I said what I wanted, I was beaten, if I said nothing, well, I was beaten harder.”

  Harriet’s hand was shaking in his. Indignation was bright upon her face and for a few moments he was afraid she was about to get up and storm across the room to give his father a piece of her mind. He was momentarily grateful he hadn’t pointed him out to her. “I’ve got over it. In fact a year ago at one of their dinner parties my father told me he did it to shape me into a man. I suppose he didn’t think I could become one on my own.” Bitterness crept into his voice even as he struggled to contain it.