Читать онлайн книгу «Damsel In Distress?» автора Kristina OGrady

Damsel In Distress?
Kristina O'Grady
A chance meeting that could scandalise the ton!19th century England. Harriet is running for her life, chased by three men on horseback through Hyde Park. Knocked unconscious, everything goes black…Philip, Baron Eaglestone, has never seen such a beautiful damsel in distress. And he’s even more intrigued when she opens her eyes, and begins to speak. Because this irresistible woman can only remember her first name, and has no knowledge as to who was trying to kill her… or where she is!As Philip cares for Harriet, their attraction burns… and neither can shake the feeling that their chance meeting was truly a moment out of time. But if her memory returns, Harriet will be faced with a question. Will she return home or could it be that family is where her heart is – with a Regency rake!



A chance meeting that could scandalise the ton!
19
century England
Harriet has travelled back in time on a secret mission and all is going smoothly until she ends up running for her life, being chased by three men on horseback through Hyde Park. When she is knocked unconscious, everything goes black…
Philip, Baron Eaglestone, has never seen such a beautiful damsel in distress. And he’s even more intrigued when she opens her eyes and begins to speak. Because this irresistible woman can only remember her first name, and has no knowledge as to who was trying to kill her…or where she is!
As Philip cares for Harriet, their attraction burns…and neither can shake the feeling that their chance meeting was truly a moment out of time. But if her memory returns, Harriet will be faced with a question: will she return home or could it be that family is where her heart is – with a Regency rake!
Damsel in Distress?
Kristina O’Grady


www.CarinaUK.com (http://www.CarinaUK.com)
KRISTINA O’GRADY
has always loved telling a good story. She took up writing at a young age and spent many hours (when she should have been doing her math homework) writing romance stories in a book she hid in her sock drawer. She still remembers the first romance book she ever read. She was without anything to read (oh no) while on vacation with her family and bought a book in the small shop in the hotel lobby. It involved an Earl, a horse and, of course, a Lady with a very bad fever. Since then she has been hooked on the Regency era.
Kristina grew up on a cattle ranch in Western Canada and although has been told many times she should be writing about cowboys, she can’t seem to leave the fantasy of Dukes and Earls alone. She worked in the Oil and Gas Industry for several years first as a labourer, machine operator, crew foreman, technician and eventually as an environmental consultant. She loves getting out in the fresh air and enjoying the peace of nature. In mid-2000 Kristina met her own knight in shining armour/cowboy who swept her off her feet and across the world to New Zealand, where she now lives on a sheep and beef farm with her amazingly supportive husband, three gorgeous young kids, seven working dogs and one very needy cat.
There are so many people I wish to say thank you to. Thank you to my family and friends for the never-ending love and encouragement. It means the world to me, and makes this journey so much fun. A special thank you to my mom and my Aunt Jill, who were here when I needed them. To my fans, who have been begging me for the next book…here it is! And to my editor, without you Victoria, this book would not be what it is today.
Thank you all for your support.
To Mick, because I love you.
Contents
Cover (#u7f0f28bc-40bf-5e9e-acd8-e62ae133c6ea)
Blurb (#u977d0fde-b1f2-5a91-94b3-9ef2dc55a638)
Title Page (#u16d938fb-3242-560e-821d-a4d58b4abc3f)
Author Bio (#uc55af1cc-e4be-5312-bb42-886987e596db)
Acknowledgements (#uca6215a7-4aa2-5a5e-8f7f-708552246a90)
Dedication (#ub8cee667-2f12-540c-b63b-8918bc8f1983)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u4c232d50-8ea2-5cfb-8772-0eb343dd09b4)
They were getting closer. Harriet raced through the dark. With her heart thumping in her chest she raced across the lane and under the arched entrance of Hyde Park. Horses’ hooves pounded the ground behind her. She leaned lower on her horse’s neck and swerved him to the left to duck in behind a row of trees. She would not let them capture her. She didn’t come to this time only to fail now, the King was counting on her to deliver the information she had safely tucked inside her corset.
The sun began to rise, casting pink shadows across the ground. Her horse was tiring and started to stumble, they had come so far. The foaming sweat on his neck flicked onto her face as she raced through the park. She was going to run out of places to hide once the sun came up. She urged him faster still when they broke from the trees and she dared a glance behind her. There was no one there. Relief flooded through her core and she momentarily loosened her death-grip on the reins.
A shot rang out through the cool morning air. Her horse screamed seconds before Harriet felt him stumble. She didn’t have time to brace herself as he went down. The ground rose up and connected with her face. The package hidden in her corset pressed itself into her ribs when she hit the ground and in the moment before everything went black Harriet wondered if her hiding place would be good enough.
Chapter 2 (#u4c232d50-8ea2-5cfb-8772-0eb343dd09b4)
Philip Blade, Baron Eaglestone, regretted his moment of weakness last night when he paid a visit to his mistress, as soon as he had climbed into her bed. He had already bidden farewell to her for good last month. Veronica was a passionate lady and as such was hard to let go, even if she was a candidate for Bedlam. Tonight’s episode proved his theory correct. Next time he wouldn’t be swayed! He might also decide to stay off the drink…or at least off champagne as it tended to make him forget his resolve to stay clear of her. Yes, he’d stick to brandy from now on. That was a much better idea.
Philip bit back a silent groan. His head was pounding to high heaven. What had he done? The naked woman beside him warmed his bare chest. In fact she warmed his entire body. As he lay in her bed, he watched the gentle rise and fall of Veronica’s breath until he was absolutely sure she was in deep sleep. He gingerly slid his arm out from underneath her neck and crept out of the bed. He didn’t dare breathe in case he woke her.
His head didn’t help matters. The room swayed in and out of focus as he made his way around it collecting various items of his clothing. He pulled on his trousers, cursing fashion’s current love of the figure-hugging pantaloons as they were dastardly to get into in a hurry. He shoved his shirt over his head and thrust his arms through the sleeves. Every few seconds he chanced a peak at Veronica’s sleeping form. Once he’d shrugged into his coat, he went in search of his boots. They had to be somewhere! This was ridiculous, they couldn’t have just disappeared. He got down on his hands and knees and searched under the bed and the many flouncy chairs in the room. Nowhere.
Damn. He stood up. Where the hell had they gone? He looked about the room once more. Veronica favoured the floral side of decorating. There were roses everywhere. In fact the multitude of flowers springing from the wall coverings, the chairs, the cushions and the bedspread did nothing to abate the queasiness in his gut. Alcohol he consumed earlier that evening threatened to make a reappearance on Veronica’s beige carpet, the one object in the room that was not covered in the God-awful roses.
Breathing shallowly through his mouth to stop any regurgitation, Philip finally remembered what had happened to his boots. With one last glance at Veronica’s sleeping form he crept from the room and down her stairs, retrieving his boots along the way. How he had managed to get them off while climbing the stairs without breaking his neck, or dropping Veronica, was beyond him.
At last he stepped outside and closed the door softly behind him, thankful that he had managed to make a clean getaway. He cut through Hyde Park to make it home before his sister found him missing. She was liable to put a search party out for him. The last thing he needed was his friend, Lord Bingham, finding out he had gone back to Veronica. Not after last time. He still hadn’t heard the last of it, and he had no desire to add to his torment.
A thundering of hooves broke into his reflections. “Who in their right mind would be out riding at this hour?” he muttered to himself. “They’ll kill themselves running their horse at that speed in the dark.”
He climbed a small rise and stopped dead at the sight that greeted him. A lone rider was riding hell-bent-for-leather with three others chasing after him. The rider in the front skirted around a row of trees while the three others split up and circled around to the front. The lone rider didn’t stand a chance.
Philip’s blood ran cold when he saw one of the trio raise his arm. Philip called out a warning. But he was too late. A shot rang out and the horse fell. A woman’s scream startled him into action. They had just shot at a woman! She flew from the saddle and landed hard. She didn’t move. What the hell was going on?
He took off down the hill, running faster than he ever thought possible, his heart pounding in his chest. He cut through the garden, the smell of roses thick in the air, the scent practically choking him with their aroma. He doubted he would be able to smell roses again without reliving this moment.
The men approached the fallen horse and dismounted. There was something wrong about them. Something other than chasing down a woman in the middle of the night and shooting her horse, that is. There was something about the way they rode, something about the way they approached the fallen woman and her horse. Philip couldn’t put his finger on it as he ran faster across the manicured lawn.
One of the men bent down and patted the horse on the neck. The man’s soothing whisper carried clearly through the crisp night air. The horse’s whimpers settled at his calming words and it lay quietly before the man.
Another shot rang through the air and the horse gave one last jerk as the bullet entered its head.
Philip supposed that along with the bullet hole, the poor creature had broken its leg when it fell. If that was the case, there was nothing that could be done for it.
The man rose and walked slowly, calmly towards the fallen woman. This time he crouched close to her and whispered in her ear. Philip couldn’t hear his words but pushed himself harder when he saw the woman stir. The man ran his hands over her body, whether he was looking for something or obtaining some sick pleasure from the situation, was unclear in the half light. The man pressed the muzzle of his gun to the woman’s temple.
“Stop!” Philip panted. He didn’t think he could make it to her in time. “Stop!” he yelled louder when they didn’t hear him. With his heart in his throat, Philip shouted as loud as he possibly could across the remaining distance. He forced himself to run faster still towards them. He had no weapon, but he could not watch while they killed a defenceless person, and a woman at that.
The man crouching over the woman lifted his head at Philip’s shout. He very calmly rose and considered Philip as though he had all the time in the world, but then he drew back his foot and kicked the woman in the head. A sickening crack rang through the air. The man turned and remounted his horse and left. The other two men got back in their saddles, swung their horses around and followed him through the park just as the sun broke the surface of the horizon.
Chapter 3 (#u4c232d50-8ea2-5cfb-8772-0eb343dd09b4)
Bile rose up Philip’s throat as he came within reach of the fallen woman. Was she even still alive? There’d been no movement since she had been kicked. Philip stumbled the last few steps, not able to run any further. Considering his bloodstream was full of liquor, he was amazed he’d made it this far. He crumpled to his hands and knees, gasping for breath as he took in her appearance.
She was lying on her side facing away from him. Her hat had fallen off and was a few feet away from her. She was wearing the latest fashion, but not a riding habit. The fact that it was a carriage dress did not escape his notice, even in his distress. What was she doing wearing an afternoon walking dress at this time of day? Her pelisse was dark in colour and didn’t catch the light of the rising sun. The bust was torn, as was one of the sleeves, showing the pale fabric of the dress underneath. It was high quality and well made. From his sister’s trips to the modiste, Philip knew how expensive such an ensemble was. This was no ill-bred woman, but a lady of quality. Questions as to who she was and where she had come from bombarded him.
Her black hair fell across her face. He gently brushed it aside and saw it was covered in blood. His breath stuck in his throat. Her face was a mess.
The one blue eye he could see was almost swollen shut, the skin around it turning black. Blood covered the lower half of her face and was still seeping out of her nose. There was a cut under her chin, but it was hard to tell with all the blood as to how deep it was. All of this was nothing compared to the large contusion emerging just under the hairline behind her ear. Blood oozed from her ear, trickled down her delicate throat, the red a vast contrast to the pale skin. A surge of protectiveness for this vulnerable stranger consumed him. His hands knotted into tight fists at the sight of what those men had done to her.
Philip wasn’t sure what to do. He ran his hand softly along her arm and whispered soothing words to her eerily still form. “It’s all right…I’m here now… You’re safe now, I’ve got you.” The words were meaningless, but nevertheless offered him comfort, even if she couldn’t hear them.
He needed to get her out of the park and to a doctor as fast as possible, but he didn’t want to leave her here all alone. What he wouldn’t give for a carriage at this moment.
A moan issued from her lips and all thoughts of transportation fled his mind. Relief flooded his system. He had been beginning to think she wouldn’t wake up. She turned her head and looked at him with her good eye. “Hello,” she said.
***
Harriet woke to a man looming over her. Her head was muddled and thoughts flew in every direction but she was unable to catch any of them. What did catch her was the intense blue of his eyes. She was sure they could almost see right through her. In that instant she didn’t wish to know anything other than his name.
***
“Hello,” he replied cautiously, not wanting to frighten her. “Could you tell me your name, miss?”
“Harriet. Why am I lying down? Who are you?” Her voice was husky and softly spoken. “Are you all right, you don’t look so good.”
“Exceptional; thank you for asking.” Philip paused, a smile touching his lips. “It’s you I’m worried about, my dear. Are you all right?”
A confused look crossed her face. She opened her lips to reply at the same time she tried to sit up, but the breath caught in her throat. The pain of her fall finally reached her consciousness. “What happened? Why am I here? Why am I so sore? Who are you?” The panic in her voice rose as she looked frantically around at their surroundings.
“It’s all right, my dear. You’re safe.” He spoke to her like he was comforting his mare whilst foaling.
His calming tone seemed to work. Her eye didn’t look so wild when she looked at him again.
She spoke slowly, pronouncing each word carefully, “Where am I? Who are you?”
He looked her directly in the eye, making sure she understood him. She was obviously frightened and he wanted to reassure her as much as he possibly could. “You are in Hyde Park, and I am Philip Blade, Baron Eaglestone, but you may call me Philip. I think after watching you almost get killed, we can do away with the formalities.”
“What do you mean, almost killed?”
“Don’t you remember?” She shook her head, “I suppose taking a fall like that will affect your memory. You do have quite a knot on your head.” He reached out towards the large lump but thought better of actually touching it, and let his hand drop. Philip wasn’t sure how much to tell her now. He assumed she would be the one telling him what was going on, but if she didn’t remember, he wasn’t sure he should alarm her by telling her three men had chased her down and tried to shoot her in cold blood.
“Um, well, I suppose we should try to sit you up.” He reached under her shoulders and gently drew her forwards. Her body was firm beneath her clothes. Philip marvelled at the way her muscles bunched under his arm as she prepared to sit. She was not some miss that just sat around receiving visitors and having cups of tea. “How’s your head?” he asked.
“Sore.” The smile she gave was tilted on one side and a small dimple showed briefly on her right cheek. Philip was momentarily struck with the glimpse of her beauty beneath the blood and bruises.
“Come on then, I believe we should have you seen by a doctor. Do you recall where you live, my dear? No. Well there’s nothing for it then. I’ll take you to my sister. She’ll take care of you until we can contact your family. What is your last name, my dear?”
The woman before him opened her mouth to reply, but no sound emerged from her lips, panic filled her eyes again.
He grabbed both of her hands and rubbed them gently to get her attention. “Not to worry,” he said once she looked at him. “I’m right here. You had a very nasty fall and you hit your head.” He wasn’t about to tell her a man kicked her in it as well. “I’m sure it’s normal to momentarily forget who you are with an injury such as this.” He hoped so, anyway.
“I’ll take you to my sister’s and send for a doctor from there. You have a nasty cut on your head which should be looked at and I’m sure there are other parts of your person that are tender as well, yes?”
The lady bit her lip and gave a small nod.
“It’s settled then. It’s just the two of us, so it’ll be slow going. I don’t think we should wait for the haut ton to arrive for their morning carriage rides, do you?” He could just imagine the gossip that would come from this if he was noticed with this poor woman. Next thing he would be to blame. As for being alone together, in the dark? The consequences of that was something not worth contemplating.
Her body swayed alarmingly once they managed to get her to her feet. His arm wrapped itself around her before he had even formed the thought to do so. He pulled her tight against his body to support her.
They didn’t make it very far before she needed to rest. She leaned her head upon his shoulder. They stood in silence, waiting for her to catch her breath. He was worried the men would return to finish her off and he wanted to get away from here as quickly as possible. Her breath warmed the skin exposed above his collar. She wouldn’t be able to walk another hundred yards let alone all the way to his sister’s house.
She looked at him just then and smiled. She straightened up and started walking. Her endurance amazed him, but after another two stops he decided to take matters into his own hands. Philip leaned over and caught her beneath the knees and with his arm clasped tightly about her shoulders, lifted her into his arms. He would carry her the rest of the way.
It took them ages but they managed to make it to the other side of Hyde Park, to the residence he shared with his sister. The sun was lighting the sky by the time they made it up the steps. The relief he felt when the door was opened by his sister’s butler Charles, dressed immaculately in his blue coat, white breeches, stockings and powdered wig, despite the early hour, and at not being seen by anyone, was unsurpassed. The surprise on the butler’s face was also unmatched by anything he had seen cross his expression before and, if it hadn’t been for the lady he was supporting in his arms, he would have laughed outright.
“Don’t just stand there, Charles, shut the door, we don’t want the whole neighbourhood to be privy to our goings-on, now do we?”
“Very well, sir.” Charles hastily closed his gaping mouth before closing the front door. “How can I be of assistance, my lord?”
“Please inform your mistress she is needed in the drawing room.” Philip moved to the entrance of the room and just before he shut the door added, “And Charles, send for a doctor as well.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Chapter 4 (#u4c232d50-8ea2-5cfb-8772-0eb343dd09b4)
Mrs Hillary Barrett wasn’t usually up at this hour, but cook had been experimenting with spice from the Middle East this week and it wasn’t agreeing with her stomach. Last week she experimented with Chinese. Needless to say, Mrs Barrett found herself not only awake, but sitting in her front parlour with a cup of tea to calm her stomach just as the sun was creeping across the houses to greet the day. And since she had nothing to occupy her except her needlework, which she never enjoyed doing anyway, she found herself gazing out the window. And it was with this gazing, that she found herself privy to one of the juiciest gossip tidbits of the season.
Lord Eaglestone strolled down the street, which admittedly, if Mrs Barrett was regularly up at this hour, she would know was not a thing to remark upon, but it was the fact he was carrying a lady that was most notable.
The woman he carried was bedraggled in appearance but, although her clothes were askew, there was no mistaking that she was a lady of quality.
Mrs Barrett herself assumed the lady must have come to some harm and she was rising from her seat to offer assistance when Lord Eaglestone dropped a kiss on the top of the lady’s head before he mounted the steps of his sister’s home.
A gasp tore from her lips. That woman was not in need of help except from a priest. Mrs Barrett understood at once the meaning of her bedraggled appearance. The woman had come to no harm, at least not physically; morally yes, but it was obvious if Lord Eaglestone was kissing her with such reverence, the woman in question was no lady.
“What are you looking at now, dear wife?” Mrs Hillary Barrett’s fingers twitched the curtains of her parlour closed before she turned to her husband of twenty years. He knew her too well for her to pretend she was bird watching. Although in a way, she was. He stood in the doorway fully clothed and ready for the day. He was always up this early, although she never understood why.
“Lord Eaglestone is at it again! This time he’s bringing one of his paramours into his sister’s house! I for one refuse to put up with such blatant disregard to proper behaviour. First thing this afternoon, I will call on Lady Cressanda to offer her my support in this time of what is surely a trial. Imagine, having that woman in your house. Being flaunted right in front of your nose. Shocking, that’s what it is.” Hillary paused a moment and when her husband refrained from commenting, she turned in his direction. He had sat down in his favourite chair and picked up a newspaper. A paper! When she was in the middle of telling him something very important, “Albert, are you listening to me?”
“Yes, dear.” His eyes didn’t leave the newspaper but he raised his eyebrows and Hillary was once again assured of his attention.
“I must go and tell cook to prepare some nice biscuits I can take as an offering.” Hillary bustled out the door, not seeing her husband roll his eyes before returning to his paper.
Chapter 5 (#u4c232d50-8ea2-5cfb-8772-0eb343dd09b4)
Harriet took in her surroundings. The house was elegant, with exquisite furnishings. Neither the décor nor the house made her uncomfortable or made her feel out of place, so she could only assume she, too, was accustomed to this sort of luxury. She couldn’t remember. She had hoped on the way to Lord Eaglestone’s residence that a memory would be jogged and she would know who she was, but nothing. It was as though there was a gaping black hole in her head…at least it wasn’t a bullet hole. Where had that thought come from? Why would she think about bullets? She could see the shape in her mind and an image of a gun, black and sleek, flashed in her memory, the smell of gunpowder in the air so real, she scanned the room for the source.
She shook her head slightly to clear it…or fill it up, she wasn’t quite sure which. She found the sights and sounds of London slightly familiar, as though she had been here before, but she had the impression something wasn’t quite as it should be. She wasn’t familiar with the area Lord Eaglestone lived in, but she wasn’t sure if that was because she couldn’t remember or, worse yet, she wasn’t from here. If she wasn’t from the area, how was she supposed to find her way back to where she had come from?
***
Philip looked at the lady propped on the blue patterned chaise longue in his sister’s drawing room. The lady insisted she would be fine sitting, but the colour was completely drained from her face; little wonder, as her blood was still oozing from her head. Her eyelids looked heavy as though she was trying hard to keep them open and he had a sudden compulsion to keep her awake. He was scared if she closed her eyes she would never open them again. He ignored the sudden clenching in his chest at the thought and forced himself to speak casually as though all was well.
“I’m sure my sister will be down directly. She wouldn’t have missed the commotion when we arrived.”
“Hmm?” Her eyes flickered closed.
Philip hastened to the chaise and sat beside her, indecently so; the cushions dipped where he sat and her body sagged towards him. Their thighs touched, sending heat straight to his groin, surprising him that he could have lustful thoughts about a half-dead lady with blood running down her face. He was immediately disgusted at himself and shifted his body away from her. It was no good, the weight of him far outmatched hers and her body followed his into the crevasse he created on the couch.
“Are you able to remember anything yet, my dear?” Philip turned his head to speak to her. He ended up talking into her hair, as she let her head fall upon his shoulder.
She opened her eyes, or at least the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut, and blinked at him in confusion. Her mouth opened but no words came out, so he repeated his question.
“No, I don’t know who I am.” She dropped her head back onto his shoulder and her good eye shut once more.
“Please stay awake,” he begged quietly, touching her face gently with his fingers.
The words had scarcely left his lips when his sister swept into the room in one of her best morning dresses; she was obviously here to make a point. Philip groaned.
“What is the meaning of this, Philip? How dare you bring one of your doxies into my house! You’re in my drawing room, for heaven’s sake…with the door closed!”
“Cres…Cressandra, let me explain.” Philip shouldn’t have been surprised at his sister’s reaction, but he was.
“Don’t you dare even try. Get her out of here this instant and you, dear brother, can go as well. I’ll have Charles pack your things and send them to wherever you find yourself. You have caused enough damage to our family this year without visiting this kind of scandal upon it as well.”
Before Philip had a chance to redeem himself, Charles knocked on the door, “Dr Brown is here, my lord, should I send him in?”
“Of course, Charles, see him through immediately, she’s not looking too well and she won’t open her eyes.” Philip shook the woman gently but her head just lolled on her neck. Her eyes stayed closed. “Please hurry,” he whispered.
At the startled sound that came from beside the door, Philip looked up in time to see his sister become aware of the state the woman in his arms was in. Her indignation deflated before his eyes.
“What’s happened?” She took a few steps towards them but seemed unsure what to do and stopped halfway across the room.
“She fell.” Before Cressandra could ask any more questions, a man strode purposefully into the room, Charles following at his heels. Philip knew Charles would be mortified the doctor entered the room without being properly announced, but Philip didn’t have time to care about the aging butler’s sensibilities.
“Where’s the patient?” Dr Brown was a tall man with a bushy moustache and a large smile. If he happened to have a beard as well and dressed in red, one would be forgiven for thinking he was none other than Father Christmas. The only problem with that being was he was actually fairly young, mid-thirties perhaps, and possessed not a single grey hair. But his cheeks were rosy and his belly protruded merrily beneath his clothing.
“What has happened to the poor dear?” Cressandra asked again. “Why is she covered in blood? Is she dead?” She took another tentative step closer.
Philip ignored his sister and addressed the doctor. “I would prefer for you to hear the whole story in order to help her as best you can, but before I start, you should begin examining her. She had a very nasty fall off a horse and a blow to the head. She was unconscious when I reached her, but woke up fairly quickly. It is only now she has fallen back to sleep.”
“And when did this occur?” Dr Brown asked while he felt for a pulse on her wrist.
“I was on my way home just before daylight when I came upon them.”
“Them?” Dr Brown looked up from his patient.
“There were three others. They caused this.” Philip waved his hand at the woman, indicating the injuries she had received.
“Where are they now?”
Philip shrugged.
The doctor quickly undid the buttons of her pelisse and eased it off her shoulders and down her arms. “Do you know her name?” Brown asked, not looking up from his task.
Philip shook his head. “Only that her Christian name is Harriet. She was unable to recall the others.”
Dr Brown paused in his ministrations and examined her dress. “This is most odd. Miss, come closer please,” he called to Cressandra. “I would like you to have a look at this garment.” The doctor lifted a piece of white fabric that was sewn to the top underside of the pelisse to show her. “Are you familiar with these? It appears to be a label of some kind.”
Cressandra stepped closer and leaned in, her thigh pressing against the doctor’s back as he knelt on the floor before his patient. She peered cautiously around his shoulder at the label he was holding for her inspection.
“No, doctor, my modiste uses nothing such as that. Perhaps some of the others label their creations. I could ask around if you would so desire.”
Cressandra looked at her brother, but Philip shook his head. He didn’t need society’s curiosity piqued in his direction. Not any more than it already was.
Cressandra stepped back from the doctor. Philip glanced back at his sister and saw she was wringing her hands in distress, a sure sign she was soon to faint. “Cressandra, see if you can get Mrs Johnson to bring some warm water and towels. This lady is still bleeding.”
“Of course, Philip.” She turned and strode from the room. She would be better with something to do.
“You had better start your tale, my lord.” Dr Brown looked closely at Harriet. He gently forced her good eye open and passed a candle back and forth in front of her face. “You can start now, my lord.”
“Of course, of course. Um, I was just, um, gathering my thoughts.” Philip tore his eyes from the swell of her breasts peeking at him from under the rip in the front of her dress. He shouldn’t be looking at her bare skin, not with her like this. He tore his eyes away, took a deep breath, and started from the beginning. “I was walking home through the park when I saw four riders…”
Chapter 6 (#ulink_17b38b62-d06c-5a43-9d0e-c4a69d4b6169)
“My lord?”
Philip looked up from the papers on his desk, not that he was able to concentrate on them with an unconscious woman in the guest bedroom upstairs; a woman who at this very moment seemed to be dying. The fact that she hadn’t regained consciousness since this morning was not encouraging at all. Dr Brown had called in several times through the course of the day and each time he left, his demeanour was more sullen than the last. Philip was not looking forward to the long, sleepless night ahead. He should go to bed early but he had a suspicion he would spend the night in the chair next to her bed. If she was going to die, he’d be damned if she’d do it all alone.
“Yes, Charles? What is it?”
The butler walked into the room cautiously as though he would rather be anywhere else than standing at his master’s doorway. “Mrs Johnson and Rebecca found these on the lady’s person when they prepared her for bed.” Charles held out a packet and gingerly placed it on top of Philip’s desk. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s covered in blood.”
“I see.” And he did, the parchment was soaked through and the writing on the outside was almost illegible. “Why was it not brought to my attention earlier, Charles?”
“They found them only an hour ago, my lord, and were unsure what course of action to take, but since it appears the lady may not last the night, we thought it best to deliver them to you straight away.” Charles uncharacteristically wrung his hands together before he noticed what he was doing and quickly shoved them behind his back to reclaim his proper butler posture.
“What do you mean, they only found them an hour ago? Wasn’t she removed of her clothing this morning for her examination by Dr Brown?”
“Yes, my lord, indeed she was but it was only while Mrs Johnson was disposing of her garments that she noticed something sewn into the corset. She of course immediately, carefully retrieved the packet, but was then unsure what course of action to take.”
“So you already said, Charles. It is very unlike you to repeat yourself.” Philip leaned the chair back until it balanced on the back legs, and he propped his feet onto his desk. “It’s a mystery to me as to why it took Mrs Johnson so long to turn the packet over to me. I am the head of this household, am I not, Charles?”
“Yes, my lord,” Charles mumbled.
“And as such, I should be made aware of everything of importance under my roof and finding a secret, blood-covered packet sewn into a dying woman’s undergarments is of great importance.” Philip swung his feet off his desk and let his chair fall forward with a thump. “Don’t you think so, Charles?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“So tell me again why Mrs Johnson refrained from coming to me directly after finding this packet?” He swept his hand before the bloody lump on his desk.
“I am afraid I don’t know, sir.”
Philip let out his breath in a great huff. “Very well, Charles, that will be all.”
The butler bowed and quickly left the room.
He knew he should bring his staff to toe the line. He didn’t enjoy torturing them and clearly Charles couldn’t read Mrs Johnson’s mind. Philip would bring the matter up with her tomorrow. Right now he had to see to his guest.
Philip stared at the sodden paper for a moment before working up the courage to pick it up. It was her blood that soiled the paper. He knew she bled from her injuries, but to hold the evidence in his hand was something else entirely.
He turned the paper over to examine the seal. There wasn’t one. He turned the packet over again, but there was no seal anywhere. There was something holding it together and he could only assume it wasn’t all the blood. It would’ve been sealed with something when it was placed in her clothing.
He ran his fingers over the paper. There. There was an edge near the top. He worked his fingernail under the edge and worked the packet open. He peered inside. The blood had seeped into the papers enfolded in the wrapping as well. He cautiously shook them out, careful not to tear the damp pages. He unfolded them and spread them out on his desk. Where there wasn’t a seal on the outer packet there was one on the bottom of each page. A silver disk shone up through the blood.
It was unfamiliar. A bear stood menacingly on its hind legs but held a flower in its right paw. Philip took a piece of paper and placed it over one of the disks to make a rub with some charcoal, so that he could remember it exactly if he needed to. Considering that a woman was shot at carrying these papers, he had a strong suspicion he would need all the clues he could get.
As he placed the charcoal to the paper, his office door opened again, this time without a knock.
“Dr Brown. Is everything all right?”
“I found a bullet hole. While initially I agreed that we should keep as much information that may upset the lady from her, now I believe we will have to tell her all that you know. She will be sure to notice a hole in her side. Did your butler bring you the packet?”
“Yes.” He pointed to his desk. “It’s here.”
“Do you know what it contains?” Dr Brown stepped closer to the desk to have a look.
“No, the blood has made it impossible to decipher.”
Dr Brown only grunted in reply.
“Where was the bullet hole?” Philip wondered why he was just being told of it now. “I would think that with the amount of time it took us to get here, she would have bled to death.”
“Oh, it was just a glancing blow, as though it had hit something else first, perhaps. I suspect her corset took the brunt of the remaining force. I believe one of two for the whalebones where broken”
“The horse probably took the shot.”
“Yes, the horse. Are you planning on keeping this all secret? You realise of course the animal is still lying out in the middle of Hyde Park and is sure to have attracted attention by now. If you were hoping to find some clue from the scene, it will all be lost by now. Imagine the amount of spectators gathered there today.”
Philip was finding the conversation difficult to follow, not because he was a slow man without much wit, but the shock of the whole morning was beginning to catch up with him, not to mention the amount he’d had to drink the night before. The image of the horse lying on the ground was enough to make bile rise in his throat. He swallowed a few times to avoid embarrassment. The image was something he had no wish to remember.
“How is the patient?” Philip asked to change the topic.
Dr Brown sank into one of the chairs in front of the desk and shook his head grimly. “It doesn’t look good. I had hoped she would have opened her eyes by now but she has yet to gain consciousness and with each passing hour it makes it more and more likely she will remain as she is. However there have been cases where victims have awoken weeks after being knocked out. Sometimes the body needs time to recover. Keep in mind, she had quite an ordeal this morning. If she does awake, it is likely she still won’t recall who she is.”
“But you are of the opinion we should tell her about the attack?”
“There is every chance the mentioning of such an event will jog her memory. There is just as much likelihood it won’t. But either way, don’t you think she should know someone wants her dead?”
Chapter 7 (#ulink_e899fa9c-a8dd-5722-bb25-8142c56d336a)
Harriet awoke with a vague sense of foreboding. She could remember snippets of details but mostly there was only empty space inside her head. Emotions waged war with each other as she fought to regain her memory. Fear weighed like a ball in her stomach, which in turn held her in place and yet overwhelmed her with the desire to run. But she could barely lift her head off the pillow. The pillow being covered in silk was not the point. Her body ached as though she had been run over by a coach; all her muscles were stiff.
The room she was in was unfamiliar, although it was luxurious and smelled of lavender. She had fallen asleep in a drawing room and now she was lying on a bed…a very comfy bed. She snuggled down into the mattress; this was no ordinary mattress, but a down-filled one. Heaven. She wiggled further down and pulled the covers right up to her nose. Light danced on the walls opposite the window and cast shadows of tree leaves moving gently in the breeze. White curtains swayed in and out the window. A bee buzzed into the room, probably attracted by the bunch of flowers placed on the small table beside her bed.
She turned her head to take in the rest of the room.
A small squeak escaped her lips. A man was sitting next to her bed, sprawled actually; the chair in which he was sitting was overwhelmed by his large frame. He was asleep and she admonished herself for not noticing the soft snores coming from his lips when she awoke. He was beautiful. His blond hair was cut short, probably shorter than the current fashion, but there was a hint of curl in the ends that lay next to his scalp. His nose was like a Greek god’s, the slight crook at the top indicating it had been broken before. His eyes were framed by dark eyelashes; most unusual considering his hair was so light, she knew several women who would kill for eyelashes such as his…
She knew women? She tried to grasp their names and hold them in her mind, but before their images fully formed, they slipped away, leaving only frustration in their wake.
Her eyes strayed back to the table holding the flowers.
Harriet was suddenly aware of how thirsty she was. Her lips stuck to one another and her tongue felt fat and swollen in her mouth. She stared longingly at the pitcher of water sitting beside the flowers. She stretched her hand out as far as she could reach but she didn’t even manage to reach across the whole bed, let alone the table beside it. Why couldn’t she lift her head? Maybe she could shimmy across the bed, closer to the water. Why were her muscles so uncooperative? She could barely manage to lift her leg. This was ridiculous! She moaned out loud in frustration.
The man’s eyes blinked open. A smile slid across his lips when he saw her. “You’re awake.”
Harriet slowly, painfully (why was her head so sore?) turned to look towards the deep voice. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight that greeted her.
She smiled in return, how could she not? Where she thought he was beautiful before when sleeping, the smile transformed him to gorgeous. Light sparkled from his eyes and it was true pleasure she saw shining from them.
The sheepish smile he gave her was unexpected coming from a man so attractive. His blond hair curled waywardly in all directions. There was a hand print on the side of his face as though he had slept with his face propped on his hand. The neck of his shirt was open and his cravat was nowhere to be seen. Harriet marvelled at the fair hairs poking out of his shirt front and the dark skin underneath them. The view did nothing to alleviate her thirst.
“The good doctor and I were beginning to wonder if you would ever wake.”
“How long have I been…?” Her voice was rough from disuse.
He cut her off before she could form her question. “Two weeks.”
“Two weeks?!” she croaked. Two weeks? She shook her head in wonderment. How could she have slept so long?
“Are you thirsty?” He must have noticed her licking her lips. He sat himself up in the chair and leaned forward to pour water into a glass from the pitcher standing on the table next to the bed. She’d never heard a sweeter sound than that water flowing into the glass. She managed a nod before he slipped a hand under her head to help her sit up. The room swam in and out of focus. She hadn’t realised how weak she was, but it required a mammoth effort just to raise her head, even with his help.
“Ohhh.”
“Steady now, have a sip of this. It’ll make you feel better. Dr Brown said to give you as much liquid as I am able to force down your throat. With you asleep for so long, you haven’t been getting much at all.” He pressed a glass to her lips. She revelled in the cool water that slipped past her lips and unstuck her dry tongue from her mouth, before sliding down her throat. All he gave her was a small sip and tears came to her eyes as he pulled the glass away.
“More?” he asked, the smile still playing on his lips.
She nodded and the glass was once more pressed to her mouth. By the time the glass was empty she was shaking with the effort it took to drink. He gently lowered her back down onto the pillows before placing the glass on the table. Then he crouched down beside the bed. He stroked a hand across her brow, but she couldn’t feel his touch on her skin. She reached her hand up to her forehead and encountered a rough bandage.
“Do you remember anything from that night?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“My name is Philip Blade, Baron Eaglestone. I found you riding through Hyde Park on Saturday night…or I suppose it was early Sunday morning. You were being chased by three men. I don’t want to alarm you, but Dr Brown has instructed me to tell you everything in hopes it will jog your memory.” Philip reached for her hand and Harriet clung to it as his words rolled over her.
“They surprised you. They somehow managed to get in front of your horse when you thought they were still behind you. One of them shot your horse. I imagine some of your injuries are from the fall you took then. The rest of your injuries are courtesy of what happened next. One of the men searched you for something and then raised his pistol and pressed it against your head. You were conscious then, as I saw you moving. I yelled out as loud as I could. I couldn’t stand there and watch them murder a woman, but I didn’t have anything to defend you with either. So I yelled. Luckily, they heard me and instead of killing you, he kicked you hard in the head. I imagine your head is tender from that. When I got to you, you were not awake, but you revived a short time later and together we managed to make it here, to my home. My sister also resides here, so you needn’t worry over any damage to your reputation.”
“Thank you.” Her voice sounded rough even to her ears. She looked at the man beside her and she wondered if he had stayed by her side the entire time she had been asleep. “Thank you,” she said again although she suspected that it didn’t convey the gratitude she was feeling for the man at the moment.
“I only wish I could have protected you from those men. I will never forgive myself for not reaching you sooner. If I had, maybe I could have stopped them from harming you. I am so sorry about that. I will make sure that’ll never happen again. As long as you are with me, I swear no harm will come to you.”
“You risked your life for me. How can I ever repay you?”
Chapter 8 (#ulink_78484bb1-10e0-5ff9-9b07-79a420782d77)
Three men gathered in the back room of a house. The candles shone from the windows in the front rooms, casting welcoming light onto the street below, but here in the back, the curtains were drawn tight and the men gathered by the light of only one candle.
“You should have killed the Princess when you had the chance, Pete,” One of the men whispered. It wasn’t his house and he didn’t want to attract the attention of the servants. He was dressed, as were his companions, in his evening finery. The white of his shirt picked up the light of the candle and glowed into the darkness of the room.
Peter snorted low in his throat. “There was a witness, Charlie, if you failed to notice, so unless you want to leave dead bodies all over London, I suggest we do this my way.” He drew in on his cigar, sucking in his cheeks to fill his lungs with smoke. “Besides”, he said blowing smoke rings into the air, “we need the Princess alive, she didn’t have the papers on her and she is the only one who knows where they are.”
“She delivered them already, you think?” Charlie asked.
Harry, the third man in the group, walked away from them and started looking at the books in the small bookshelf against the far wall. Peter quirked an eyebrow at him. He hadn’t hired him for his brains, but rather for his bulging muscles. Peter didn’t even know Harry could read.
Getting Harry to come out in public, especially to events such as this with high society present, was nearly impossible. Harry was a great hulk of a man, standing head and shoulders over everyone else, and easily recognisable.
Strains of music drifted through the closed door of their hiding place, indicating they needed to wrap up their meeting and head back out to the ballroom before they were missed.
Peter turned his attention back to Charlie. “We can only assume she was unsuccessful in her delivery. For one, she would’ve returned instead of running and two, nothing has happened. You know as well as I, there will be consequences if she is successful.”
“You’re sure you searched her well enough? What about her horse, she could have stashed them in its saddle.” Charlie pulled at the tightly knotted cravat around his neck.
“Possibly, but when I returned a few hours later, the horse and tack were intact.” Peter walked to the corner of the room where the light from the candle didn’t reach, and lifted something onto his shoulder. He carried it over to the table and threw it down. “See for yourself.” The saddle lay in a mound in the centre of the table. It was clear that he had ripped all the seams apart to look for hidden objects.
“And you found nothing?”
“Only this.” He pulled a long chain from his pocket and let the pendant swing back and forth. “It may be hers, but I thought she would have something a bit more reserved.”
The other man caught the swinging object and stared at the nude silhouette of a lady on the pendant for a moment longer than necessary. A grin crossed Charlie’s face for an instant. “Our Princess won’t be going anywhere then, will she?” He laughed. “No papers then?” he asked after he got his laughter under control.
“I just said there weren’t,” Peter snapped. This gathering had gone on long enough.
Charlie wasn’t done yet. “How did you get the saddle? Surely someone saw you.”
“I bought it. The Bow Street runner there wasn’t concerned about evidence. In fact, he assumed some gent broke his horse’s leg and then shot it before high-tailing it home so he wouldn’t have to dispose of the creature. All I had to do was offer money for the saddle. I love London. They make this all too easy.”
Charlie stroked the beard on his chin. “Except for our witness. Have you found out who he is?”
“That’s exactly what we are doing here.” Peter wondered why he surrounded himself with idiots. “You and Harry make some inquires about who he is. He’ll know what happened to our Princess.”
Charlie looked over towards the far end of the room. “Are you sure about Harry, boss?”
Peter turned to look at the man in question just in time to see him sniff his handkerchief. “On second thought, maybe you and I should go out there by ourselves. Go home, Harry.”
Harry nodded and waited for the other men to leave the room before he snuck out the back door of the house, a smile on his lips.
Chapter 9 (#ulink_016be035-60f2-54eb-9399-20314b359b1a)
Dear Readers, it is with great concern I write this to you today. It has recently been brought to my attention that Lord Eaglestone was seen in the company of a particular lady two mornings past. Unfortunately this author has been unable to procure the identity of the young lady in question, however I am of the understanding that all is not as well as it seems at No. 7 Park Street. Not long after the lady and gentleman (if one could call him that) arrived at the door, so too did a doctor and it was some time before he departed. No one other than Lady C has left the residence and I am assured that Lady C is not the lady in question. So who is this mystery woman was in need of a physician and why, oh why did Lord Eaglestone kiss her?
“It’s bloody well in the papers!” Philip stormed across the room with a newspaper in his hand. He flung the paper down on the table in front of his sister. “Who saw us? You didn’t tell anyone she was here did you?”
Cressandra adjusted the surplice sleeve of her white morning dress. “No of course not, brother,” she said and calmly moved the paper away from her breakfast plate. “I know all too well what state she was in when she arrived. It was clear to me someone wishes to see her dead. It would be most irresponsible of me to say she was under our roof.” She bit into a pastry with relish. She did love her breakfast.
“It wouldn’t be the staff.” He was certain of that. He knew where their loyalties lay.
“Oh no, Philip, you know they would not say a word.” Cressandra tipped her head at him and asked, “Did you really kiss her?”
“I did no such thing. Whoever saw us obviously thought they saw something they didn’t or this writer,” he pointed to the offending the paper lying discarded near the poached eggs, “is trying to sell more copies.” Philip ignored the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he might be lying. He had wanted to kiss Harriet, her lips begged him to, but he would’ve been a cad to take advantage when she was in the state she was the night she was attacked.
They looked at each other for a moment. “Mrs Barrett,” they said at the same time.
It would be just like her to spread something like this. Mrs Barrett lived next door and she had a lot to do with the reason Philip’s reputation was what it was. She loved to put her own twist on any gossip she could lay her hands on and if she had indeed been up early enough to see Philip bring Harriet into the house, she wouldn’t have been able to keep such a juicy gem to herself.
“If anyone is looking for Harriet, it won’t take them long to find her now. I will call on Lord Harrison this morning and see what kind of measures we should put in place. In the meantime call for Dr Brown to see if she can be moved and ask Murdock to stand guard outside her room. No one in their right mind would try to get past that brute.”
“Are you sure he’s the best? He’s so gentle.”
“Be that as it may, he looks the part. I for one wouldn’t want to meet a man that looks like him in a dark alley.” Philip slumped into a chair. “No, anyone that comes looking for Harriet will think twice about trying to get past him.”
***
When Harriet next opened her eyes she was alone in her room. A quick glance at the chair showed her a rumpled blanket and discarded pillow, but no Lord Eaglestone. More’s the pity. She wanted to know if she’d imagined how good looking he was.
The sheets crinkled as she shimmied her way closer to the edge of the bed. The coolness of the sheets away from the centre of the bed was refreshing on her heated skin. The windows were no longer open and she longed to once more feel the cool breeze she had enjoyed earlier. The water on the table beckoned her. But even teetering on the very edge of the bed she was unable to reach the pitcher to pour herself a glass.
She moaned in frustration. All she wanted was a drink. There was a bell resting on the table next to the water, presumably so she could ring for assistance. A fat lot of good it did her though, as she was unable to reach the bell either.
Harriet gritted her teeth and wiggled into a sitting position. Her head swam and she grasped the headboard to stop herself from tumbling onto the floor. Her body couldn’t take another fall. She stared at the pitcher of water and willed it closer, but no such luck, it stubbornly stayed where it was. She was going to have to get it herself.
She took a deep breath, released the headboard and grabbed the bed post closest to her while swinging her feet over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. She swayed dangerously, black spots flashing in front of her eyes and bile rising up her throat. She forced her eyes from the red swirling carpet on the floor back up to the pitcher. Thankfully the bile remained down where it should be and her surroundings stopped moving of their own accord. Gradually the black spots faded and her vision cleared.
Where earlier she was wishing for a breeze through the window, now she was glad they remained closed. Her body was drenched in a cold sweat and she shivered uncontrollably and she still didn’t have the water. If anything she was even more desperate to feel moisture on her tongue than before. Powerless to stop the shaking, she reached for the pitcher anyway.
She almost knocked it over twice but somehow she managed to pour some water into the glass on the table. Her whole arm shook with the effort and by the time she finally brought the glass to her lips, she was almost too exhausted to drink any of it.
The tepid water unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth and relieved her dry lips. When she lowered to glass, she was amazed to find it empty. She reached over to place it back on the table but she misjudged the distance and set it on the edge of the table. Her reactions were too slow to catch it before it fell. It hit the drawer handle on the way down and exploded into thousands of tiny fragments of crystal, one of which lodged itself in her shin. She watched as a drop of blood trickled down her leg and onto the priceless carpet at her feet.
Slowly, slowly she moved her legs back up onto the bed and reached down to pluck the shard loose. It stung as she pulled it out and started to bleed again, but she was too tired to stem the flow. Placing the shard on the table she wiggled back down the bed until she was lying flat once more. Seconds later she was fast asleep.
Chapter 10 (#ulink_2128a33b-bf6f-572e-9d1e-0e0a076196e6)
Philip stopped as soon as he walked into the room.
Blood.
The smell of it greeted him at the door and instantly he was transported back to that awful night in the park. He rushed to her bed but soft snores came from her lips and she was unscathed. He stood in silence and watched her sleeping. The gentle rise and fall of her chest soothed him. He moved to the other side of the bed and pulled the all-too familiar chair closer to the bed and sat down.
Something sharp stabbed him in his stocking foot. It was only then that he noticed the bloody shard of glass lying on the table. Looking down, a thousand pieces of crystal twinkled on the floor in the late afternoon light. A smear of red across the sheets caught his attention and he stripped the cover back.
He didn’t know she slept naked.
Air left his lungs in a whoosh as the expanse of skin greeted his eyes. His hands itched to touch its smoothness but with a sigh he lowered the sheet back over her, the vision still burned upon his eyes. He grabbed the small bell standing on the table and shook it savagely. The ringing brought a maid running but it also woke Harriet. He cursed his stupidity and slumped back into the chair.
“Miss Harriet is injured and there is glass littering this floor. Where were you?” he asked, the anger rising up inside him. “You should have been here with her. She should not be left alone.” He said everything to the maid that he should have been saying to himself.
“Philip,” Harriet spoke softly and placed a hand on his knee. “It’s all right. It’s my fault there is glass everywhere. I’m terribly sorry you cut yourself.”
He looked at her pale face and felt like an even bigger ass. “That’s just it, Harriet, you shouldn’t have been left alone. Why didn’t you ring the bell if you wanted a glass of water?”
“I couldn’t reach it.” Temper flared in her eyes and he was pleased she wasn’t as much an invalid as she looked.
Philip gritted his teeth until he was sure he heard them crack. “My point exactly.”
A smile graced her lips warming his heart. Unable to take his eyes off her, Philip apologised to the maid for his outburst and propped his feet on the bed so the maid could remove the glass from the carpet.
“Sir?” ventured the maid after a few moments down on her knees.
“Yes?” He still hadn’t stopped looking at Harriet.
“I’m sorry sir, but you gonna have to move, sir, I can’t reach the rest.”
He looked at the floor and saw the crystal still sparkling in the light, although not nearly as much as before. He switched his gaze to the maid. Her hands were covered in small cuts, blood oozing from the tips of her fingers. He jerked to his feet, resulting in his pushing the shard of crystal that was still in his foot, further into his skin.
“Good Lord, girl, what are you doing?”
“Picking up the glass, sir, like you said.”
Guilt swamped him. She was right, he had been too preoccupied by Harriet to pay any attention to the maid, but he never intended for her to hurt herself, especially not for him. To help clear his conscience he helped her to her feet.
“I’m sorry, my dear, but I assumed you would fetch yourself some gloves before you started, and I never intended you to be harmed. Take yourself down to the kitchen and have Cook look after your hands. That glass needs to be removed. Take the rest of the day off and tomorrow as well. Lord knows you won’t be much use with hands cut up like that. Off you go now.”
The maid bobbed a curtsey. “Yes sir, thank you sir.” With a huge smile on her lips she turned and fled.
Harriet chuckled as the girl rushed from the room. “You’re a good man, Philip Blade, and I think you just made her day.”
Philip shrugged. He imagined the maid would appreciate the time off. So would he; with the maid out of the way he and Harriet were once again alone in the room.
“And you, my dear, have a cut on your leg. Do you want me to send for Dr Brown to tend to it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Philip, you can manage without him, I’m sure.” She thrust her leg from under the covers and once again he found himself staring at her bare skin.
His butt hit the chair again. It had been doing that a lot lately. He reached out and gently clasped her leg with his hand. Her skin was as smooth as he was scared it would be. His fingers ran up her leg of their own accord and he was hard pressed to make them stop at the cut on her shin. With his other hand he dipped the edge of the sheet into the pitcher of water and used it to mop up the dried blood. A small drop of fresh blood appeared at the site and he lowered his face and kissed it away. The metallic taste was strong on his tongue. He raised his head and looked into her eyes.
“I’m not sure why I did that,” he said.
“Don’t stop,” she replied breathlessly.
He didn’t need to be told twice. Philip lowered his head back to her leg and kissed his way from her toes to her knee. He wouldn’t allow himself to go further no matter how much he desired to do so.
Chapter 11 (#ulink_dc725ea3-46bb-5a1e-a4a7-b727bbc2f5a0)
Shivers ran up and down Harriet’s spine with each kiss Philip brushed upon her skin. Her head fell back onto the pillows with a sigh, her fists clenching the sheets at her side.
He stopped.
She sat up and looked at him. What the hell was he stopping for?
His forehead was resting on her knee, one hand gently clasping her foot and the other fisted the covers, the only evidence that he too was struggling to maintain control.
She lowered herself back down so she was lying flat. Her body was exhausted from all the activity today. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing and fight away the desire skating through her system.
“Philip?” she called after a few moments.
He raised his head off her knee and quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Come here,” she beckoned.
Flutters erupted in her chest as he crawled up the bed towards her. He poised himself over her, a boyish grin upon his face. “Yes, my lady, you called?”
“My head hurts, could you lie with me a little while?”
Concern replaced his smile and he lay down next to her before gathering her into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. “Rest, my lady,” he whispered into her hair and dropped a kiss onto her forehead.
Harriet snuggled closer to his warmth, closed her eyes and fell back to sleep.
***
Her head hurt less when she awoke. She was alone in her bed, the space beside her more empty than it had ever been before. Harriet turned her head and looked out the window. She was glad they had finally opened the curtains. It must be early morning with the way the light hung in the air and cast shadows on the ground. A large tree outside her window cast shadows from its leaves throughout the room. She was watching them shift in the breeze when there was a small knock on her door. She managed to roll so that she was looking at the doorway when it cracked open.
Cressandra’s head poked in. “Oh, you’re awake,” she said with a bright smile. “I was hoping to find you up.” She came the rest of the way into the room and took up residence in the chair her brother had been spending his nights in…except last night. A flush of heat covered her face.
Harriet looked at her guest. She was wearing a beautiful flowing gown that set off her light auburn hair and accentuated her curves. Harriet found herself wishing she too could look as nice as Cressandra, but supposed she would have to forego the option due to being confined to bed.
“Philip has finally allowed me to come and visit you. I’ve been dying to come ever since you arrived but I suppose he is right to let you recover and rest.” Cressandra scooted the chair closer to the edge of the bed and leaned in. “How are you feeling? I imagine you have such a sore head, what with what happened to you and all. Imagine getting chased down by madmen and nearly shot! Lucky thing my brother was out carousing that night, not that he’ll ever hear me admit such a thing, but all the same, lucky for you.”
Harriet decided that she was wrong. Her head did hurt today. “What do you mean, almost shot?”
“Oh! Ummm…hasn’t Philip told you? Well. I must be going now.” Cressandra jumped up from the chair and patted Harriet on the hand. “You feel better now. I’ll come back tomorrow.” She practically ran from the room.
Harriet lay there watching the shadows of leaves float along the ceiling and tried to remember. She tried to remember the night she was found and brought here and she tried to remember anything before that. Nothing. Her mind remained frustratingly blank. She still couldn’t even remember her last name, although there seemed to be a word dancing just out of her reach and try as she might to catch it, it drifted past her tongue.
The door opened again and without even looking she knew who it was. Philip came into view as he sat in the chair his sister had recently vacated. He sat in silence for a long time and finally Harriet brought her eyes to his face. She felt the now familiar jump in her chest as her eyes made contact with his. Would this always happen? The electric charge that jumped between them on contact? His eyes bore into hers. They seemed sad today and if she concentrated she was sure she would be able to pluck his thoughts out of his head into hers. She wasn’t certain that she wanted to.
“Are you all right?” She hated that he asked her so gently. His understanding almost undid her and she struggled to keep in her tears. She managed a nod and looked back up at the ceiling of her room. She couldn’t maintain eye contact with him any longer. If she could feel his thoughts, then surely he could feel hers.
“Cressandra told me she thinks she may have upset you.” Harriet sensed him run his hands through his hair. Over the last few days she had become very aware of his habits and this was one done regularly in her presence, as though she was a source of concern.
“She didn’t upset me.”
“I should have told you earlier.” His hand touched her face gently and she turned to once again look into his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said and she could see the regret on his face. “I didn’t want to upset you by telling you everything that happened that night. Dr Brown agreed with me.” Philip raised his hand as though to stop any comment from her. “It’s no excuse, I know, but I was trying to protect you as much as I could. You have to understand that I feel responsible for you now. I should have been able to stop those men before they hurt you like they did, but I didn’t and for that I will be forever sorry.”
He placed his hand gently on her arm and lightly rubbed it up and down. Sparks flew along her skin at his touch and warmth spread throughout her body. She pulled her arm away but forced herself to look directly into his eyes. She wished he’d lie with her again.
“Please tell me what happened. I want to know. I want to remember. You have no idea what it’s like to lie here and not know anything about yourself…not even your own name. Please tell me,” she begged him.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Philip leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. Harriet was glad for the extra space between them. If he wasn’t going to hold her and make her safe, she’d rather he kept his distance. She couldn’t think with him so close.
“I’ll start from the beginning,” he said, settling deeper into his chair as though they were in for a long story. She hoped it would jar her mind and unleash the memories hiding in there. “We went through this yesterday, do you remember?”
“Some…I think. Maybe you should tell me again. Why can’t I even recall conversations from yesterday?”
“It’s all right; you had quite a bump to your head. I suspect you will have a bit of problem with your memory for a while yet.” He reached over and brushed her hair away from the bandage on her head. “Very well, here we go. I attended a ball earlier in the night; I’ll admit I was a bit deep into my cups.” He grinned. “Deep enough I thought it was a good idea to follow my ex-mistress into the gardens of our host. I had obviously drunk far too much as any sane person would instantly know the error of that decision.” His smile had disappeared and Philip shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a red stain working its way up his neck. “Let’s just say she had her way with me and I felt the need to depart the party early. Unfortunately, she decided to come along with me and after further refreshment and uh…recreation at her residence, I managed to escape and head towards home. I was taking a short cut through the park since I had let my driver go home earlier. It was such a fine night and I’m not such a dandy that I can’t walk on my own two feet.” Philip sat up slightly in the chair and looked the part of a self-important peer for a moment before his shoulders drooped and he continued with his tale. “It was while I was walking home that I found you. You were running from three other horsemen and I must admit at first I thought you were a man from the way you were riding. You weren’t sitting side-saddle. It wasn’t long before I knew the truth, however. You screamed when they shot your horse.” Philip’s voice started to shake and Harriet rolled over and placed a hand on his knee. He grabbed her hand and squeezed. He wouldn’t look at her as he told her the rest. “I don’t know if you remember the walk back here?” Philip finally brought his eyes back to hers.
Harriet didn’t remember anything until she woke up in this room a few days ago and even that was a bit fuzzy.
“Well, you became weak; I’m surprised you managed as well as you did. I didn’t actually think I would get you out of the park, let alone all the way back here. Anyway, I had to carry you the rest of the way. You put your arms trustingly around my neck and I promised you then I wouldn’t let anyone ever hurt you again.” He took a deep breath and leaned forward until his lips were inches from hers and she could feel his breath caress her face. “I mean it, Harriet; I won’t let anyone get near you. You are safe with me.” He kissed her brow and stood up from the chair. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said and walked out of the room.
She raised her hand and placed it on her racing heart. Why did that last bit sound like a promise?
Chapter 12 (#ulink_40108243-ec6f-5f58-8e38-eb20e0bf2782)
“Harriet. Harriet, wake up.” A hand grasped her shoulder and was gently shaking her awake. Slowly the voices in her head receded and she was able to open her eyes. Philip was standing over her with tousled hair and unbuttoned shirt. “You were dreaming,” he said and sat back down.
He shut his eyes but she was certain he hadn’t gone back to sleep. “Sorry I woke you,” she said.
He opened his eyes again and looked at her by the light of the moon shining through the window. “It’s all right. Do you remember what it was that made you call out?”
She thought for a moment but again nothing came. “No. There were voices, but I can’t remember what they were saying. All I remember was a dark room with a light bulb swinging from the ceiling. Other than that and a sense of panic, nothing.”
Philip looked at her strangely.
“What?”
“A light bulb swinging from the ceiling? What is that?”
“Well, it’s a light bulb…swinging from a ceiling.” What was odd about that?
“I don’t know what you mean by a light bulb,” he said again.
The image flashed in her mind again and this time she saw the switch on the wall as well and the light lit up the whole room when it was flicked on. She looked at Philip and the candle in the holder on the table beside him. What was she remembering? Was she insane? A light that lit up the whole room? That couldn’t be right.
“I’m not sure either,” she stammered. “Just a weird dream, I suppose.”
Long after Philip had gone back to sleep she thought about the light and flicked it on and off in her mind. It seemed too real to be just something she’d thought up in a dream but surely if there was such a thing as that, they wouldn’t be using candles to see at night, would they?
She listened to Philip’s soft snores coming from the chair beside her and finally allowed herself to go back to sleep.
***
The next morning Cressandra brought her the paper to read. “As long as it doesn’t hurt your head to look at it,” she said when she handed it over.
Cressandra had also brought her a small mirror to look at herself with. Both of them thought it might jar her memory, but no such luck. She looked like a stranger to herself. The swelling had receded and her eye was back to normal size now and the bruising on her face and under her jaw was almost gone. Harriet touched her head and the lump on her skull wasn’t as large as before either. Soon there would be no evidence of her mishap…except the fact she couldn’t remember who she was.
After Cressandra left, Harriet opened the paper. She flicked through most of it. Nothing seemed familiar, but she stopped at the gossip section.

A certain gentleman has been missing from the usual events these last few weeks. Perhaps something or someone has taken his interest from the marriage mart. But what, or should I say who, has captured his attention?
Harriet wondered who the mystery man was and why anyone cared that he wasn’t attending balls and parties.
It became a ritual for the next week for Cressandra to bring the paper up after breakfast. And as Harriet began to recover from her ordeal, they would chat about what had been going on in the world outside Harriet’s window.
She got stronger every day and spent most of her days sitting in the sun at the window seat. When Cressandra left, Harriet would quickly flick to the gossip section to see what was written about the mystery gentleman.
Today was a surprise.

It is a great pleasure to inform you all, dear readers, that tonight our certain elusive gentleman will be attending Lord and Lady Bingham’s ball for surely even he wouldn’t dare miss that!
Harriet was putting the paper down when Philip came into the room. She smiled up to him in greeting and handed him the paper.
“I see you are up and about today.” He smiled at her as she rose from the window seat and walked towards him. “I was hoping you were out of bed.”
She laughed. “Philip, I have been ‘out of bed’ for days now, as you well know. I just wish you would let me come out of my room.”
“That’s why I’m here. Come sit down, and I’ll tell you my plan.” He led her back to the window and handed her down to her seat. He remained standing. There wasn’t enough room on the seat for two without touching and he didn’t want to risk it. Not after the night she’d slept in his arms. A night he couldn’t erase from his thoughts.
Now she was feeling better he didn’t feel he needed to sleep in the chair next to her bed and the stronger she got, the more he felt pulled to her. He tried to limit contact with her during the day but made sure he still came to see her at night before she went to sleep.
He looked down at the paper in his hands and smiled. His sister had been visiting. He was glad Cressandra made the effort; she had been busy heading off the gossips all week. Especially since that fool woman had started writing about him in the paper. What rubbish! As if he was ever interested in the marriage mart.
“Tonight I am going to my friend’s ball. Lady Bingham always puts on a wonderful affair and I was wondering if you felt well enough to attend?”
Harriet looked at him in surprise, “Are you the certain elusive gentleman?”
It was not the reaction he was looking for. “What?”
Chapter 13 (#ulink_b2a82998-4da5-5493-8aac-7637cdabb668)
There was no cause to be nervous, Harriet kept telling herself as she looked in the mirror, but the butterflies in her stomach weren’t listening. An entire colony had taken up residence there.
Rebecca, the maid Cressandra had assigned her, tucked the last jasmine flower into her hair and smiled at her handiwork. “You’ll be the loveliest lady there, miss, that is for sure. These flowers smell divine; you won’t need any perfume. Lord Eaglestone will be the envy of all the gents, you just wait and see.”
Rebecca’s smile was infectious and despite feeling as though she could lose her lunch at any moment, Harriet smiled in return. Rebecca had managed to transform her into a princess.
The maid dabbed a light blushing of rouge on Harriet’s cheeks and handed her the tube Mrs Johnson had found in her clothing the night she arrived. The label lip gloss gave Harriet a fair idea as to what was inside. She twisted off the lid and slowly pulled it away from its base. A long-handled brush slid out of the tube revealing shiny gloss on its tip.
Both she and Rebecca looked at it for a moment before her maid could hold her tongue no longer. “Well, put it on. Oh miss, that looks lovely, like you’ve just been kissed!”

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