I didn’t wait for either of them and instead strode out of the room first. As soon as I was out of the door, I turned quickly to my right and ducked into a small, dimly-lit servant’s corridor.
They exited together, not touching, but Brookhouse was laughing at something Harriet had said. Or, knowing Brookhouse, he was laughing at something he had said. Harriet was smiling at him politely, but her eyes were searching the stairs and the other side of the corridor—for me.
I flattened myself against the wall and prayed that Brookhouse would, for once in his life, do something useful and leave Harriet to find her way back to her room alone.
Their voices carried, Harriet's soft tones a contrast to Brookhouse’s booming ones. The next time I hazarded a glance at them, Harriet was no longer looking for me, but was smiling broadly up at Brookhouse.
It was that smile of hers, the one that had made me fall for her, and here she was, using it on Brookhouse, and he seemed just as taken with her as I had been.
Deuced women with their smiles and tantalizing softness. How were army men supposed to steel ourselves against such attacks? Battle did nothing to prepare us for coming upon women in corridors or empty shepherd’s crofts.
Harriet dropped her eyes from Brookhouse’s face only to have them land on me. Her laughter hitched and her eyes widened. I gave her a very short nod and then tucked myself back into the corridor.
Their voices quieted and then stopped. I heard Brookhouse’s footsteps fade away, but I wasn’t certain if Harriet had left with him. I straightened my shoulders and walked out of the corridor.
Harriet was there. Waiting.
We were finally alone.
For the strangest moment, I felt a splash of regret for interrupting her time with Brookhouse. The laughter that was painted on her face only moments ago was now washed away. She was still beautiful, of course, but she was back to being the calm, quiet woman she’d always been around me.
If we were to marry, would I be able to make her laugh like that? Had I when we were together six years ago? Most of my memories were of me laying burdens at her feet while she listened.
Had I mistaken pity for love? I had been young enough to do so. She seemed like a saint listening to me about my family and trying to understand how lonely I felt. But I couldn’t think of a single moment when we’d laughed together.
Had I wanted a home and family so fiercely I hadn’t considered how much joy we would have in each other’s company? We were finally at the same house party, but neither of us had tried as hard as we should have to be together. When did Harriet, the person, become less important to me than Harriet, the goal? Had I ever thought of her as the woman she was? Or had I only seen a future version of her?
Perhaps the Harriet of my dreams wasn’t even real.
And I’d stopped dreaming of her days ago—maybe even weeks ago, when my dreams shifted to an elusive woman in white.
“Did you want to speak with me?” I asked quietly.
Harriet nodded, and her calm, quiet exterior shifted. A sly grin slid onto her face and her dark eyes sparked withmischievous excitement. I stepped back and put a hand against the wall.
I didn’t want to be the reason her eyes glowed. Not anymore.
I glanced at the door to the drawing room. At any moment, someone could walk out and find us together. We weren’t in a compromising position, and there would be no scandal if we were found, but we would lose this chance to speak privately.
She noticed my glance, grabbed my elbow, and tugged me back into the corridor I was just hiding in.
Once out of sight, she dropped my arm. “I have a message for you.”
That was not at all what I was expecting. “You do?”
She nodded, eyes sparking again. “From Evelyn.”
“From Ev—Miss Blackwell?” I don’t know what exactly I was expecting the first time we were alone, but this wasn’t it.
She nodded. “She wants to speak to you. Can you meet her in the library tonight?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, after everyone has retired.”
“You want me to meet withyour cousinin the library after everyone has retired?” Must I repeat everything she said? Apparently I must. None of it was making sense.
Her dimples deepened. “Yes, or rather, she wants to meet with you and speak to you about something privately. I’m simply trying to arrange it for you.”
