Seaford pulled off his boots and jacket and helped Jon get under the covers. He reached over to the bowl and pitcher on the table beside the bed and wet a cloth in the cool water before placing it over Jon’s eyes. “Rest now, my lord. The battle is over. You’re safe. I’ll check on you later.”
Jon could barely manage a nod as he tried to control his breathing. Over and over again, he silently told himself, You’re safe now; you’re safe. No harm can come to you. You’re safe.
Seaford returned a few hours later to check on him, carrying a tray of tea and sandwiches. “Shall I pour you a cup?”
Jon had taken the cloth off his face some time ago. He felt better, although quite parched from his ordeal. “Yes.”
Seaford brought the tray over to the bed and placed it over his lap before pouring the steaming liquid into the cup. “Do you require anything else?”
Jon shook his head. He wanted to thank his valet profusely for his dedicated service, but that was not their way. Seaford knew how much he was valued by the salary Jon paid him, which was more than double what most valets earned. He was no ordinary valet, and Jon appreciated his service, even though he went through the motions of firing him every day. Even that ritual was comforting in its own way. It meant that nothing had changed, and that suited Jon just fine.
Except everything had changed. Everything in the shape of lush curves and blue-gray eyes.
Jon had no idea what he was going to do about the young miss... because clearly, trying not to think about her wasn’t working. He drank the tea and ate a little before resting for another few hours.
He needed to regain control of his mind first, before he could even think about the issue of the young woman in the meadow.
Chapter 6
Harriet returned to the stablejust before the skies opened up and made a mad dash through the servants’ door as the rain came down in torrents. The warmth and delicious smells from the kitchen hit her with unexpected pleasure.
“Good morning, Mrs. Morrison,” she said, swiping an apple tart that had been cooling on the table.
“Good morning, Lady Harriet,” the older woman said. The cook had been in her grandmother’s employ for more than ten years and was known by the good people of Bath for her mouth-watering desserts. No one ever turned down an invitation for tea from Lady Dalling, knowing that Mrs. Morrison’s treats were something to be savored. Her grandmother had often tried to lure Mrs. Morrison to London, but the cook always declined, citing that Bath was her home. Now Harriet understood why her grandmother often came to Bath, and not just in the summer like some of the ton. She wished her late father had accepted the numerous invitations from her grandmother to join her in Bath for the summer, but Papa had preferred to stay at his country estate instead of traveling to the seaside town.
Harriet bit into the still-warm tart and sighed as the cinnamon and nutmeg hit her tongue. “Mmm…”
When she walked by the parlor, she was surprised to see her grandmother sitting there with a cup of tea. Marian usually took breakfast in her bedchamber, and Harriet was curious about why she was already up and dressed for the day.
“Gran? I’m surprised to see you up so early. Is everything all right?”
“Did you see the Earl of Hartley today, my dear?” Marian asked.
“What? How did you—”
Marian held up her hand to stop whatever Harriet had been about to say. “My darling girl, I may be old, but I know the look you get when something intrigues you, and the Earl of Hartley definitely intrigues you.”
Harriet plopped down on the sofa beside her grandmother and kissed her cheek. “He does intrigue me; you’re correct in that assessment. I rode along the property line again today and feared I wouldn’t see him, but as I was turning Meribelle around to head home, there he was, riding his glorious stallion.”
“And I suppose you couldn’t resist trying to talk to him?”
“Oh, Gran, you know me so well. I did thank him for the dance, and just when I thought he might speak, a loud crack of thunder directly overhead startled all of us, the earl the most. The wild look in his eyes frightened me a little, and I wanted to assure him it was just thunder, but he kicked his horse’s sides and rode away without a word.”
“Ahhh…”
“What does that mean? I don’t know any men who are afraid of thunder.”
Marian patted her hand. “My dear, you’re young and have no experience with this, but war is brutal and can do strange things to men. It wasn’t merely the thunderclap itself that frightened him, but perhaps it reminded him of something else. It’s best not to dwell on it and leave the earl to his solitude.”
“But I really want to get to know him. He’s not the Beast of Bath, as everyone says. He was gentle, and I’ve never felt so alive as I did when we danced together.”
“I understand. However, Hartley is one of those soldiers who continues to suffer even after being home on English soil. He juggles a complicated existence, I’m afraid.”
“Do you think I’ll ever be able to see him again?”
“Perhaps. Time will tell, my dear.”
Harriet nodded, kissed her grandmother’s cheek, and walked out of the parlor, heading up to her bedchamber for a much-needed bath. She loved riding Meribelle, but she didn’t relish smelling like horse all day.
