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“It seemed you were gone a long time.”
“Did it?”
“And no one seemed to know where you had gone.”
Harriet stopped at the door and rounded on her cousin. His sudden interest in her whereabouts was wearying. She did not owe him an explanation or an account of who she had chosen to spend her time with.
“Why all the questions, Simon? I did not hear you asking the same of Eleanor.”
“I know where Eleanor was. She was being attended by a court of young men throughout the evening,” Simon replied.
“Does it matter? I did not meet anyone significant. I am no closer to finding a husband or a solution to our problems.”
Was it her imagination or did she see a flicker of something akin to relief on her cousin’s face? Putting his sudden interest together with his attention towards her during the ball further cemented the idea in her mind that Simon saw her as more than just a cousin. It made her uncomfortable.
I do not see you in the same way. And besides, that would serve neither of us. A union between us would simply cement our misery. I’m sorry, Simon, but it cannot be.
“I just do not wish to see you embroiled in scandal. I thought perhaps you had been the one who…”
“I was not,” Harriet said quickly. “You must excuse me, Simon. I am extremely tired. I will retire for the evening and I suggest you do the same.”
CHAPTER 19
Sleep evaded Harriet. Having undressed down to her petticoat, she lay on a generously sized bed and gazed at the window. She hadn’t drawn the curtains and could see a bright moon in between scudding clouds. Against the sky that was occasionally visible, she could see the outline of trees and the wider landscape, black against black.
What will become of us?I find that I have met a man who I find intriguing. A man who excites my body and my mind. And now, I fear there is no room in my heart for anyone else. Oh, this is silly.
She turned from the window and curled up against the thick sheets, closing her eyes. But sleep was distant and her mind kept returning to the Duke and the taste of his mouth against hers. Her body responded, a deep tingling spreading through her at the remembrance of his strong physique. At his passionate lips pressing against hers. His hands on her body, holding her and refusing to let go.
Harriet turned on the bed, her pulse increasing and her breath coming fast and hard.
Stop it. He is a Duke who has his pick of the finest women in the country. He has no reason to choose Harriet Worthingham, from an impoverished family of no particular rank. And if he did desire a Worthingham, he would choose Eleanor.
She got to her feet, deciding that exercise was the only way to encourage her body to sleep. Wrexham Castle was a sprawling house and at this time of night, it would be asleep. Little chance of meeting anyone if she went for a walk about the halls. Draping a dressing gown about her shoulders, which trailed along the floor behind her, Harriet picked up a candle in a brass holder and stepped into the hallway.
It was quiet and dark, only an island of golden light following her. It illumined portraits that lined the walls. Some she recognized. Men who bore a striking resemblance to the Duke. All were handsome and most glared with serious eyes and hard faces. That quality was present in the current Duke, but he also possessed a playful quality that his ancestors did not. She examined each portrait and moved on, bare feet soundless on the soft carpet.
Wrexham Castle was a veritable maze. She had thought it would be simple to walk along the corridor housing the guest wing, then take the stairs down to the next level, explore that, and so on. But actually, the corridor split halfway along its length. She took a turn at random and found herself beneath a towering, stained glass window flanked by wooden benches. A stone bust of a woman stood on a pedestal beneath the window.
Retracing her steps and taking the second turning led to a corridor that produced more branchings. Again, taking turns at random, she soon found that she was thoroughly lost. A staircase appeared, dominated by an enormous painting of Wrexham Castle and its environs. Descending the stair led to a smaller passageway, flanked by thick curtains, some of which shifted in the breeze through an open window behind.
From the far end of that passageway came a strange sound. She stopped, listening. Her candle had been low to begin with, now it was beginning to gutter. The light flickered and the shifting curtains moved in and out of shadow. The effect was that the passageway looked alive which Harriet found discomfiting. She listened again. The sound seemed to be the scuffling of boots against a hardwood floor, as though someone were running back and forth.
Then she heard the gasp of breath, the sound of a man straining at some activity. She stole along the passageway, jumping slightly as the breeze stirred the curtains to brush against her. A whipping, metallic sound reached her now. As Harriet reached the door, she didn’t notice the pedestal that stood to one side. Atop the pedestal was a highly polished metal ornament, made of bronze. A strong gust of wind from outside pushed the curtains against her forcefully and she jumped, bumping the pedestal.
The bronze ornament crashed to the floor with a clatter. At once, the noise from the other side of the door ceased. Then came hurried footsteps and the door was hurled open. The Duke stood on the other side. He was naked from the waist up, his sculpted torso sheened with sweat. In one hand, he held a rapier. His eyes were wild and staring, hair damp. Harriet suppressed a scream at his sudden appearance and then tried to keep her eyes from that immaculate physique.
“What on earth are you doing there?” Edward demanded.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Grace,” Harriet replied. “I was exploring the house and…”
“Exploring the house? At this hour?” Edward said.
“I could not sleep. I thought the exercise would tire me.”
Edward looked down at himself as though suddenly aware of his semi-nakedness.
“Yes, well. It seems our minds work on similar paths. I had much the same idea. I was sparring with myself.”
