What on earth was he still doing in the library with this woman? Why was he still holding her wrist? Surely, there must be a logical explanation for this, one he would discover imminently—forAlexander, like most men, believed himself to be ruled by logic above all else. Logic felt very, very far away at the moment.
“You cannot leave this room with that written on your wrist. It’s indecent!” he insisted sharply, taking on a tone he had never employed before with a woman, a tone he was borrowing from his father.
An unwed woman of thetonsimply could not walk around with the wordquimbranded on her. Was this Bancroft sister mad? More to the point, washemad? Why did he care? His brain tried desperately to contrive a reason why he minded so much what happened to this woman.
“Indecency requires an audience. I don’t plan on anyone seeing my wrist. That’s what gloves are for.”
“There are plenty of indecent things you can do alone, I assure you. And someonehasseen it.”
“Tell me whatmonosyllablemeans and I’ll gladly erase it,” Harriet goaded.
Lord Alexander groaned. If he heard one more body part come out of her mouth! He took his handkerchief from his pocket, wet it with the only thing he could think of—his own tongue—and started rubbing Harriet’s wrist. She let out a loud, affronted gasp.
A gasp that, as it turned out, covered the sound of the library door opening. It could not, however, cover the shriek that came next.
Alexander and Harriet whirled together toward the sound, more graceful than any dance step Harriet had ever attempted.
At the entry stood a very concerned Philippa and an equally overwhelmed dowager, the Marchioness of Neddlesby. Lady Neddlesbywas not the biggest gossip of thetonby any means. No, that distinction belonged to her dearest sister, Lady Swindon, a woman who treated private information like tea—something a good hostess would offer anyone who stopped by. Lady Neddlesby was a lonely woman whose great loves were her rose garden and finding someone to entrap into conversation about her rose garden. And long visits with her sister.
Most ruination happens gradually, but every once in a while, something goes catastrophically wrong in an instant. In those cases, the most acute pain comes in the first few seconds after disaster occurs, when “before” feels so close, so reachable. In these early moments the new order of things seems quite literally unacceptable.
Why, I am in the same dress, the same slippers, the same room, the very same spot on the very same Axminster as I was before this happened, you might think to yourself. At least, that was what Harriet was thinking to herself when her life ended.
No, that was rather dramatic. In fact, being caught alone in a compromising position with Lord Alexanderwasn’tgoing to end her life. Unfortunately. Death would have been the simpler outcome: Her sisters could have gone into mourning for a year and reemerged woeful, tragic, but not altogether objectionable misses. This, however? This was ruination. Obliteration.
“Oh dear,” Lady Neddlesby squeaked, rather unhelpfully, although Harriet gave her credit for being the first one to find her voice.
Harriet, who never before had frozen during a crisis, found herself utterly incapable of reply. Perhaps this was the experience of being the one to havecausedsaid crisis. Interesting. Other people’s calamities were so much easier to iron out, she was rapidly discovering.
“Well, then!” Philippa exclaimed, thawing into her usual self and regaining her voice. “Lady Neddlesby, I’m ever so sorry we were unable to continue our chat about your hothouse. I should dearly love to see it someday!”
Lady Neddlesby stood rooted to the spot.
“Oh dear,” she repeated, just as unhelpfully as before. Philippa ratcheted her charm up even higher.
“I suppose their secret is out, then. ItoldFather we’d have to share the happy news sooner rather than later. It’s ever so difficult for young couples to keep a long engagement quiet. Young love is—”
Harriet didn’t wait to discover what young love was; she stopped listening after the wordengagement. Or maybe she’d simply stopped hearing due to the ringing in her ears.
She had the twin urges to glance at Lord Alexander’s face to see if it betrayed any emotion and to never look at the man’s face again, for she feared she knew exactly what she would find: Contempt. Disgust. Regret.
Someone whispered, “I didn’t intend—” and midway through the utterance Harriet realized it was her mouth doing the talking. What had been her mouth’s plan for ending the sentence?I didn’t intend to be caught in a library with you with your hands on me? I didn’t intend for Lady Neddlesby to intrude? I didn’t intend for us tobe shackled together for all eternity?Clearly, her mouth was not to be trusted.
Her eyes were next to betray her as they wandered up, quite of their own volition, to Lord Alexander’s. There they discovered that “Oh dear” was actually quite an apt reaction, all apologies to Lady Neddlesby.
Lord Alexander had turned to stone. Unyielding, cold, immobile. If Harriet had hoped to gain some insight into his mental state, she was sorely disappointed. The worst of it was that his face was no less handsome for having shuttered. Harriet trulyunderstoodthe wordstunningfor the first time. She felt as if she’d never regain full consciousness.
Perhaps noticing that neither half of the happy couple intended to address the situation at hand, Philippa decided to usher Lady Neddlesby from the room. “I do apologize for this small impropriety. Again, you must know how long engagements chafe young people.”
At this, Harriet becameunstunned enough to let out a snort of laughter. She’d been out five seasons already with a sixth in mourning for Philippa’s husband, and surely Lord Alexander was eight and twenty if he was a day.
His head whipped to hers, the first movement he’d made since they’d been discovered. Harriet avoided his glare, fearful that what she might see would be worse than stone.
Lady Neddlesby was still at the threshold. Lord, but the woman was slow-moving. Philippa persisted: “I want to thank you for the privacy and discretion you’re affording our family. We’re all trulyelated, but we still need to discuss the engagement announcement and some other … minor details.”
Even as Philippa began to close the door on her, Lady Neddlesby’s eyes remained on the “elated” young couple, who did not seem to be aware that they were still touching one another.
“Lord Alexander, I had no idea thatthiswas why you requested my presence in the library. I must give you credit: It has been ever so long since a man has surprised me!” Philippa crowed, somehow having fun with the situation.
