Damsel in Distress? Read online

  “What about your mother?”

  He wasn’t sure if she was trying to change the subject but he answered her question all the same. “She’s like any other mother, I suppose. She loves her parties and gossip of any kind. She’s harmless of course. But she does love a good scandal.”

  “Yes, Philip, but what kind of mother is she?” Harriet looked down at her skirt and saw it was tangled around her fingers. When had she done that? She quickly smoothed it out.

  “She didn’t prevent any of it, if that’s what you’re asking. But she didn’t encourage any of it either. I suppose it was difficult for her to bear. There was nothing she could do to prevent it, so she would rise from the table or chair or wherever she was sitting and walk calmly from the room. She avoided my eyes and soon I learned not to bother to call out to her, she wasn’t going to come to my rescue.” The words flowed from his lips as though they had waited years to be said and he supposed in a way they had. His childhood was something he never discussed. Not with anyone. Strange that he felt comfortable telling Harriet. It was as though he could entrust her with his very heart and with it, every secret locked away inside.

  A strangled sound came from Harriet. Philip rubbed her hand absentmindedly. His thoughts were elsewhere; far away from the music and dancing of the ball.

  “My father was worse to Cressandra,” he said. “At least I was a boy and he had some time for me. Like he said, he wanted to shape me into the best man possible. Cressandra bore the brunt of his brutality. She could do no right. It’s not her fault of course, she was born a girl. He wanted an heir so badly, he took his frustration out on her.”

  “But he had you.”

  “Yes, but she came first and I think he thought he would be stuck with only a daughter and he never forgave her or our mother for that.” He looked at their hands again. “Our mother’s aunt left a substantial inheritance to Cressandra when she died. In the accompanying letter our great-aunt explained the money was so Cressandra could escape our father’s household. I live with her to guard her reputation. There is no way she could stay any longer under his roof, after receiving the letter. Father wouldn’t allow it and I wouldn’t allow her reputation to be dragged through the ton.”

  “That’s very noble of you.”

  He snorted and sat straighter in his chair. “Noble? No, it wasn’t noble at all. It was cowardly. I’d use any excuse to get away from that house.” He shifted in his chair, wishing he could pace the floor again but not wanting to let go of Harriet’s hand to do so.

  Harriet tightened her hold on his hand to get his attention. “I think it’s noble. You allowed your sister to escape from your father’s brutality and also ensured her reputation stayed intact. She would have no chance at happiness without you, Philip. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Her gaze was so intense, Philip had a hard time looking away from her eyes.

  “It was for selfish purposes. I wasn’t thinking of my sister when I moved in.” His voice cracked as he forced the words from his throat.

  “I find that hard to believe. You love your sister. Everyone can see that.” Harriet paused. “Do your friends know about your family? After meeting Lord and Lady Bingham I find it hard to believe they would tolerate your parents’ presence at their home if they were aware of the childhood you endured.”

  “Jasper has known me for a long time. Our parents were good friends and I’m sure that he must have some inclination of what my childhood was like. But men don’t talk about things like that. We just get on with it.” Philip cleared his throat. The past was past and he was now eager to leave it behind. It was time he let it go and start living for tomorrow.

  “I don’t understand…”

  “You don’t need to, Harriet. All you need to know is that Cressandra and I are all right.”

  “Do you want to get that refreshment now?” she asked.

  “No. I find I don’t need one any more.” He turned his head to watch the rest of the guests circle around the room. He was starting to come out of the cocoon they wove around each other in this secluded corner. “Something about you calms me,” he said, still facing the crowd. “I don’t know what it is, but I no longer feel such a strong need to drown the pain. You wonder why I tend to drink so much?” He finally met her eyes. “I’m trying to outrun my past. I’m afraid of what the future holds and the thing that terrifies me the most is that I’ll become my father.”

  He gently let go of her hand, stood up and bowed low to her. “Save me a waltz,” he said. He turned and walked away, leaving Harriet alone in her corner.

  He disappeared into the crowd, needing to get away from the all the truths he had divulged. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, as though it was too tight. He wasn’t sure why he told her all that he did, but it seemed once he started talking, he couldn’t stop. The words just came out. He hoped the next time he looked into her eyes he wouldn’t see only pity there.

  He pushed past his father, barely noticing when he called out to him and kept walking. His father was the last person he wanted to talk to at the moment. He needed to find a place he could think without the press of people around him. What he wouldn’t do for something to hit. The frustration of his emotions welled up inside him, begging for release. The best he could do was to head outside, at least there he could escape the crowd and breathe some fresh air.

  Once he finally managed to walk out onto the balcony however, all he could think of was Harriet and how lovely her hair would look in the moonlight.

  Chapter 15

  Philip told himself he watched Harriet from the other side of the room to make sure she was safe. After all they still didn’t know who the men were who tried to kill her. He asked himself for the hundredth time that night what possessed him to bring her along. He obviously wasn’t thinking clearly.

  “I see our roles are now reversed.” He barely avoided jumping before he recognised his best friend Jasper, Lord Bingham’s voice. He had been so absorbed in Harriet he hadn’t noticed his friend’s approach from behind.

  “I’m just making sure she’s safe,” he muttered.

  “You keep telling yourself that, Philip. One of these days you might convince yourself it’s true.” Jasper laughed quietly. “Grace has been worried about you.”

  “Me?” Philip turned to his friend in surprise.

  “Yes you. I told her you’re fine, but she doesn’t listen to me. She thinks you are too involved in this and need help.”

  “Hers, I suppose?” Philip didn’t question why Jasper told Grace what was happening. Jasper told his wife everything. Philip no longer had any secrets.

  “Of course. Not that I’ll let her anywhere near where there are men trying to kill anyone, but she doesn’t need to know that. She is getting quite testy at me for not letting her visit your guest though. I’ll have to give in to her soon if I’m to find any peace at home.”

  “Come tomorrow. Not too early though, Harriet will be tired from tonight.” His eyes found her again. She had come out of her hiding spot and was currently making her way around the room. She was careful not to stop and talk to anyone.

  “You’ve got something strenuous planned for later, have you?” Jasper teased with a wink.

  Philip turned towards his friend. “If you were anyone else, I would call you out for such a comment,” he hissed. “Harriet’s not that sort of lady.” He ignored the memory of her naked body as it flashed in his mind.

  Jasper took a step back from him and hastily apologised. “You’re right, that was uncalled for. I’m used to the company you usually keep. I’m wrong to assume Harriet would be anything like the others. Nor would I let my wife visit any of your other women,” Jasper hastily added, trying to dig himself out of the hole he’d dug for himself.

  If Philip’s emotions weren’t already raw from the conversation he’d just had with Harriet he may have seen the funny side of Jasper’s comments. He strained a smile onto his face but the look of surprise in Jasper’s eyes told him it
was closer to a sneer than he intended. His friend made a comment about not neglecting his others guests and quickly left him on his own.

  Philip watched his friend make a hasty retreat and then returned his attention to where he last saw Harriet. He signed; she wasn’t there. He started across the room. Now might be a good time to rescue her from whatever company she managed to find herself in.

  A hush swept across the room and for a brief instant an opening showed on the dance floor. He recognised the shimmer of her dress and stepped closer.

  He stopped short at the edge at the dance floor. The man dancing with her was none other than Lord Writeson, a scoundrel of the most dubious regard. Philip’s blood pressure rose as Harriet’s body passed close to Lord Writeson’s. He’d told her expressively to stay away from that man.

  A wave of rage he dared not examine rushed through his veins. He pushed through the gathering crowd until he reached the edge of the dance floor where he was forced to watch the remainder of the set.

  Writeson’s eyes followed Harriet’s every move. His hand lingered a fraction too long with every touch. Harriet didn’t avert her gaze from his either and she didn’t appear to notice the game Writeson was playing. Philip hoped it was her innocence that kept her from slapping the man’s hand away and running from the room. His pride demanded she reject Writeson’s advances but, to his irritation, she stayed until the dance was finished. There was even a flush of pleasure on her face when the musicians lowered their instruments.

  Philip disregarded decorum and entered the dance floor as soon as the music stopped. He seized Harriet’s arm as Writeson escorted her past, bringing them to an abrupt halt in the middle of the floor.

  “See here, Eaglestone, get your own partner, mine’s taken,” Writeson protested.

  Philip levelled a withering look at the dandy and hauled Harriet closer and wrapped his arm across her shoulder. He fought to ignore the whispers and the not-so-quiet comments he could overhear from the crowd. He knew he would pay for his familiarity of Harriet’s person. The gossip columns would be rife with details tomorrow.

  “I think it’s time you were offered some refreshment, Harriet.” He tried pulling her away from Writeson, but she resisted.

  “What are you doing, Philip?” she asked. “Can’t you see we’re dancing?”

  “Is that what you call it?” He struggled to keep his voice level, but it was hard to tell what volume he was speaking at with the roaring in his ears. “Because from where I was it looked as though you were preparing to indulge in sexual relations.”

  “Philip!” Harriet gasped and tried to wrench her arm free. “How could you say such a thing? I was enjoying the pleasure of the music with a superb dance partner.” She smiled at Lord Writeson.

  Philip couldn’t restrain himself any longer. How dare she smile like that at another man? She was his. His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her away from Writeson and into his arms. The musicians started up again. To his relief it was a waltz. He was claiming his dance now.

  “Oh.” Harriet’s breath came out in a sigh that went straight to his groin. He pulled her closer still and started to dance, in part to hide the evidence of his reaction to her and in part because he just had to hold her tightly in his arms.

  Holding her so close was a pleasure he never thought he would feel with his clothes on. He was loath to hold her at a proper distance from his body but he had already risked enough gossip tonight. The music was lively and he made sure they swept the entire dance floor, each turn pulling her a fraction closer to him. The song ended all too soon, but they remained in each other’s arms a moment longer than they should. As the other dancers applauded the musicians, Philip was captivated by Harriet’s blue eyes and was unable to step back from her warmth. Her breath came in small gasps and her face was flushed with pleasure. Her eyes shone with joy and not a touch of pity and he was afraid he could easily be lost in them forever. Again the vision of her naked body came to mind. He shut his eyes in an attempt to chase it away…or keep it close, he wasn’t sure which.

  Closing his eyes was a mistake. The enticing image of Harriet’s naked body was replaced by one of her dancing with Lord Writeson. His eyes snapped open but the vision was seared into his memory.

  Chapter 16

  Harriet was caught off guard by the intensity of Philip’s gaze. It cut through to her core and for a moment she thought that perhaps he could pluck her memories to the surface of her mind.

  He shook his head slightly at her, grabbed her hand and led her to a darkened corner of the room. He drew her slightly behind a potted plant, so they were out of sight from the most vicious gossips.

  “What are you playing at, Harriet? With someone trying to kill you, you should keep a lower profile.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she sniffed. Harriet crossed her arms over her chest. His abrupt change of demeanour was off-putting. He was radiating a fury she wanted no part of.

  He stepped in close to her, invading her personal space. “That dance, or whatever you call what you were partaking in out there!” His voice rose enough that several curious heads turned and strained to see who was arguing in the corner.

  “Which one are you talking about?” Harriet kept her voice calm. She was not participating in a shouting match. “The one with you or the one with Lord Writeson?”

  “Writeson, of course.”

  “Whatever was wrong with it? I had the absolute best time. I don’t think I’ve ever danced like that before.”

  Philip moved in closer until their noses were practically touching. “You were looking at each other as though you saw dessert. Everyone noticed.”

  “Everyone? Or just you, Philip?” Her heart climbed into her throat, waiting for his answer.

  “Look around you, would you? You almost caused a scandal! If it wasn’t for my intervention, you would have been all over the gossip columns tomorrow.”

  Her heart gave a kick and dropped to her stomach. “If you don’t want to draw attention to me, then why are you yelling?”

  “I’m not yelling!” he yelled.

  “It certainly sounds like it to me,” she muttered to herself. “Come outside, if you must put me in my place then.” She turned from him and led the way through the crowd towards the terrace. Harriet wouldn’t be treated like a child. She had enough of that type of treatment from her father.

  She stopped short with that thought and Philip, who was stomping along behind her, ploughed into her back and sent her hurtling forward into Mrs Barrett, upsetting the tea cup the elderly lady was balancing on a saucer along with some biscuits.

  “Oh my, I’m so dreadfully sorry,” Harriet stammered as she fought to right Mrs Barrett and herself. Harriet grasped the skirt of the older lady’s dress to maintain her balance. Unfortunately the dress was made of the finest silk. A tremendous rip cut through the noise of the party. As one, the entire room turned towards the sound just in time to see Mrs Barrett topple over with Harriet left standing there, clutching the fabric of what was left of Mrs Barrett’s dress.

  Silence filled the room before Mrs Barrett’s scream filled the void. Gentlemen surged forward to offer assistance and Harriet was momentarily relieved there were no flashes from cameras in her eyes.

  The memory of lights flashing was gone before she could analyse it further. Philip touched her arm and gently pried her fingers from the remains of Mrs Barrett’s dress.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. His voice was barely audible above the roar of the crowd.

  Harriet nodded her head and whispered, “I remembered.”

  Understanding crossed Philip’s face and he took her hand and placed it on his arm as though he was striving to insert some dignity into the situation. He pushed almost rudely through the gathered crowd and out the door onto the veranda and down the steps and out into the garden. He didn’t stop until they reached a place where the lights didn’t penetrate. He pulled her behind a tall bush and, surprisingly, there was a bench the
re, hiding as though it was waiting for them to greet it on this moonlit night.

  Harriet sank onto the bench to catch her breath. The ordeal inside pressed upon her and she realised that Philip was right, it was too early for her to spend the night out. Her head hurt dreadfully but it was with a start that she realised the more her head hurt, the more it remembered. Unfortunately it seemed as though those memories were too fleeting to hold onto long enough to evaluate. With a deep breath she lifted her head to observe her companion.

  Philip paced in front of her, back and forth between the opening in the hedge and the wall at the back of the garden which they were so close to. She hadn’t realised they had walked so far.

  Tears started to build up against her eyes. She rubbed at them, trying to prevent them from rolling down her face. Her head hurt so much now it was hard to watch Philip’s pacing and the crunch of his footsteps upon the dry leaves scraped against her ears.

  “Philip,” she whispered, “please stop.”

  He reached the wall and turned back towards her and walked slowly to the bench. “Sorry, I think better if I’m moving,” he said as he lowered himself down beside her. “I owe you an apology.”

  “I was the one who stopped right in front of you. You don’t need to apologise to me.” He was nothing if not a gentleman. She sighed. “It’s my fault we caused such a scene in there. And I fear with us leaving, we have probably caused an even bigger one.” Harriet stood up. “We should go back.” She started walking towards the grand house, but stopped when Philip grasped her arm. The heat of his touch warmed her skin and she felt safe again.

  “Wait.” Philip’s voice was warm against her neck.

  She stopped still and waited. What else was a girl to do? His hand slowly moved up and down her arm and with each stroke he drew her nearer. She no longer cared about the gossips inside waiting to pounce, nor did she care about Mrs Barrett’s dress or even the men who tried to kill her. All she cared about in that moment was the feel of Philip’s hand against her skin. Her arm tingled where he touched her, a hot flush rushed through her body at each stroke.