The other men were chatting behind me in the corridor and their voices were too close for comfort. I marched into the room determined not to relinquish my advantage. I paused only long enough to give a short bow of greeting to Mrs. Blackwell, seated in one of the sofas and averted my gaze from the rest of the older women. I would not be beckoned over to join a card game or conversation that could last far too long on my first evening here.
The left side of the room was lined with bookshelves, interrupted only by a large, second fireplace. Several screens dotted the floor in front of it partially hiding another small table.
My deliberations as to who to speak to first were rendered useless.
Harriet and Miss Blackwell were alone together, sitting at that table, which was small enough to only have three chairs around it. A strange setup indeed, since most card games required four players. I would have to speak to them both.
And I would have to get there quickly, before anyone else took the last seat at their table.
If they noticed me coming toward them, they didn’t show it. They were facing each other, heads tucked closely together, as if they were discussing something secretive.
Was I too late? Had Miss Blackwell told Harriet about the storm and our scandalous night together?
Or had Harriet told Miss Blackwell about me?
Our understanding was an unspoken one. We’d only spent part of one summer together when she was seventeen. I was a man with a dilapidated home and no means to repair or run it. Father had purchased my commission just before taking the rest of the family and the rest of our fortune to America. I’d been in no position to pursue her formally.
But there had been an undeniable spark between us, and I will never forget the way Harriet’s eyes teared up during our final conversation. Somehow, without money, position, or power, I’d managed to capture the heart of one of England’s finest young women, and she’d solidified her trust in me by leaving her glove for me on the day she departed.
And now, finally, I was able to approach her as a man worthy to return her affections.
The pair of them looked up simultaneously. Two pairs of eyes, one the vibrant green I’d pasted my hopes on, and the other the stormy gray that had greeted me when I’d awoken in that run-down croft. Harriet’s eyes were soft and sweet, with an innocence of character that was still there, even after all theseyears. Miss Blackwell’s, on the other hand, narrowed at the sight of me, a sharpness hidden behind her rich gray irises.
“May I join you?” If the barrels of hundreds of rifles hadn’t caused me to retreat, neither would a sharp look from a puzzling pair of eyes.
“Must you?” Miss Blackwell asked, that sweet tilt in her voice still there, even if her words were uncommonly rude.
“Evelyn,” Harriet opened her mouth in shock at her cousin. “Captain Calder is an honored guest of your father’s.”
Miss Blackwell tipped her head to one side with a knowing smile. “I am aware. Are you, Captain?”
“I am,” I said stiffly, her question throwing me off my guard. “Your father was very kind to invite me.”
“Please sit down,” Harriet motioned with her hand. “Don’t mind Evelyn. I’m certain she spoke in jest.”
She didn’t look as though she was jesting. She was smiling, true, but it was a forced one, made almost ridiculous by how wide it was.
I sat, because whether or not I was welcome, I wasn’t about to let Davis or Brookhouse take the chair in my place.
I turned my attention to Harriet. It would be rare for the two of us to find time alone, even at a house party, and this tucked-away corner might be the most privacy the two of us would get for days. I would hear about her life these past six years, even if Miss Blackwell had to witness it.
I allowed myself a quick inspection of her person. How many times had I dreamed of this moment? Our first chance to really speak to one another after six long years apart.
She seemed to be assessing me in the same way, looking for changes, her eyes catching on the saber scar that dissected my eyebrow. She had only changed in the most subtle of manners, but I must look quite different. My skin now held a darker tan and lines formed around my eyes from squinting too often inthe sun. I had several scars besides the one on my face, but I was fortunate to have returned home relatively unscathed. Many men didn’t, and I might have been one of them if it hadn’t been for her glove and the promises it held.
Miss Blackwell made a small noise in the back of her throat, interrupting our inspections.
A light blush rose up Harriet’s neck, and she shook her head softly and stood up. “Pardon me,” she said. I rose at her movement, but she reached out a hand, not to touch me, even though I would have welcomed it, but to motion for me to sit back down. She didn’t meet my eyes. “I’m only going to fetch a book. I’ll return in a moment.”
I blinked in confusion. Why did she need a book? The color rising on her cheeks made me think she wasn’t indifferent to me. Hadn’t she been waiting for this as long as I had?
But leave she did, her skirts swaying becomingly as she dashed away from the books that were sitting directly behind her, to the books on the other side of the fireplace. Leaving me once again alone with Miss Blackwell. I sat with a sigh and girded myself for what Miss Blackwell might say next.
She leaned forward with a smirk. “Your pursuit of my cousin can’t be going well if she is planning to read a book while you sit near her this evening.”
“Pardon me?” I asked, stunned by Miss Blackwell’s impertinent calculations of a situation she should know nothing about. Unless ... had Harriet confided in her?
“Do not pretend innocence with me. I know you too well.”
