A Mistaken Identity, page 11
“There are no industries around here, Garland.” The reverend chuckled. “You should have your facts straight before you suggest such outlandish ventures.”
The reverend’s comment seemed to make Miss Melbourne even more uncomfortable if that were possible.
“That lack is exactly why one should be established in the area,” Joseph protested.
“Not when you don’t have any banking experience.” Henderson shook his head. “Nothing but foolishness and a waste of money.”
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.” Joseph didn’t care if the man heard the edge to his tone. In fact, he hoped he did. Nor did Joseph care who else heard him.
“Good evening.”
The sound of Harriet’s voice had Joseph drawing a prolonged breath, willing his temper to cool. As always, she was a balm to troubling thoughts, something he truly appreciated.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.” She glanced between Joseph and the reverend, and Joseph knew without a doubt she must’ve heard much of what had been said based on her sympathetic expression.
“Not at all,” Joseph said with a dip of his head, hoping she knew how much he appreciated her timing. “May I say you look especially lovely this evening?”
Her pale blue gown made her eyes look all the bluer. As always, it had a high neck, though this one almost looked as if the thick lace that covered her chest had been added above the previous neckline. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek coiffure that flattered her face.
“Thank you.” She smiled in response only to quickly sober as she glanced at Miss Melbourne, making him wonder at the reason. “Did Frances tell you that we spent a delightful afternoon arranging flowers?”
Joseph nearly laughed at the way she turned toward him and Miss Melbourne, effectively cutting Henderson out of the conversation by angling her body away from the reverend.
“That sounds delightful.” Joseph glanced between the two ladies, unsurprised that Miss Melbourne’s gaze remained fixed on the floor. “Are you both now experts at the task?”
“We are now, aren’t we, Frances?” Harried asked with a smile. “I didn’t think we’d ever find a place for all those flowers.”
Frances didn’t return her smile, only looking at Harriet with what looked to be coolness in her expression.
Joseph had the feeling he was missing an unspoken conversation between them. Before he could say anything further, they were called to dinner.
Much to his delight, he and Harriet were seated beside one another.
“Is all well with Miss Melbourne?” he asked quietly soon after they had taken their places.
Harriet released a sigh. “I do believe she’s displeased with me.”
“Why?” He couldn’t imagine anyone being unhappy with Harriet, not even Henderson.
She hesitated. “It’s a rather long story.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” He risked another glance at Miss Melbourne who sat near her mother toward the end of the table.
“Not especially.” Her tone sounded troubled. “Not yet.”
That only made him more curious, but he respected her wish and changed the subject. “Your afternoon of arranging flowers sounds like a pleasant way to spend time.”
“It was.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “Although not as enjoyable as the morning.”
Her unexpected words sent heat rushing through him. He was coming to truly adore the woman at his side. It was as if he felt complete when she was near. And he liked the fact that they had a secret between them. Something that bound them together.
That brought to mind the messages. Dare he ask if she was the author?
For some reason, he held back, deciding he didn’t want to know yet. For now, he wanted to enjoy this meal with her so near.
Pretending to adjust his chair, he managed to graze his knuckles against her leg.
Her body immediately stiffened, and she gave a quiet gasp. He risked a glance at her, hoping he hadn’t offended her with his blatant flirting.
Her cheeks held a delicate pink, and a small smile slowly curved her lips. But to his disappointment, she didn’t look at him as the footman poured her a glass of wine.
Several minutes passed while they conversed with the people on either side of them. He reached for his wine, only to nearly spill the glass when something brushed against his thigh. He looked toward her, watching as she adjusted the napkin on her lap as if nothing were amiss. His body stirred from that light touch, desire simmering just below the surface.
Uncertain whether it had been an accident or deliberate, he studied her to find that small smile had returned though she didn’t look at him.
He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her in response.
Luckily, the first course of celery soup arrived before the temptation took hold.
Joseph waited as long as he could stand it. All of five minutes later, he managed to gently bump her side with his elbow, making certain to linger long enough so she’d know he’d touched her on purpose.
She bit back a laugh, then quickly covered her mouth with her napkin to hide her grin.
He was discussing horses with Connolly, who sat across the table, when he felt a foot on top of his. Unfortunately, he lost his train of thought mid-sentence at the touch.
Connolly looked at him with a raised brow, clearly wondering what was wrong.
Damn if that foot didn’t bump against his again. He shifted in his chair, hoping his body didn’t betray him. Though this dalliance was causing him problems, he couldn’t resist reaching out to touch her leg again, this time giving it a gentle squeeze beneath the cover of the tablecloth.
She returned the favor, managing to do so when he least expected it.
By the time dessert was served, he could hardly stand it. He needed a moment alone with Harriet more than he needed his next breath. His thoughts raced for a possible excuse that would allow it.
As always, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, and he was forced to bide his time.
Reverend Henderson stood and moved to sit next to Melbourne and Melbourne’s brother-in-law at the end of the table and began speaking quietly. Joseph was well aware of the pointed looks the reverend sent in his direction, making it clear what—or rather, who—he was speaking about.
Though anger simmered inside him, Joseph shoved it aside. If Melbourne believed whatever Henderson was saying, so be it. Melbourne was an intelligent man capable of making his own decisions. Surely, he would question what the reverend was saying.
At least, that was Joseph’s hope. It wasn’t as if he could join them to try to defend himself. The reverend could be quite convincing. Joseph need only think of his father to know that.
Instead of wasting time worrying about things out of his control, he spoke with Sinclair and Connelly until Melbourne rose and announced it was time to join the ladies.
It was all Joseph could do to keep from rushing toward the drawing room. Yet the air left his lungs when he realized Harriet wasn’t there. He hesitated a moment before stepping back out of the room, prepared to offer an excuse if anyone noticed his exit. To his relief, no one paid him any attention.
Dare he hope Harriet felt the same as he did?
With quick steps, he went to the small library and opened the door, disappointed to find it dark. He’d thought perhaps she’d be there. That they truly did have a connection between them.
“Joseph?”
He turned to see her walking out of the darkness of the room toward him, her form just visible in the fading light coming through the windows. “Harriet.” Her presence was like an answer to a prayer.
“I was hoping you might think to come here.”
He didn’t bother to answer but reached for her and drew her into his arms. This might be a mistake when they could be caught, but he couldn’t resist.
His lips found hers and he crushed her to him, putting the frustration their flirting from dinner had caused into the kiss. She seemed equally as intent on meeting him halfway.
Then he kissed her jaw and just below her ear, his hands molding the curves of her body. She fit against him perfectly, the top of her head brushing his chin.
As if his exploration gave her permission, she slid her hands over his shoulders then down his chest and back up again, stirring his body even further.
“We need to return to the drawing room,” she murmured as she kissed his cheek and along his jaw.
“Yes. Definitely.” Yet instead of doing so, he kissed her deeply once more. A voice at the back of his head reminded him of how special this was—more than physical. More than emotional. It was as if they were linked in every possible way. The realization had his heart thudding painfully.
When she pulled back, he reluctantly let her go, wanting only to take her hand and lead her to somewhere they wouldn’t risk being discovered.
With a deep breath, he held back. This was too much too soon. He didn’t understand what this was that burned between them, especially since he didn’t believe in love. But they needed to slow the rush of feelings before it overwhelmed them.
“You go first,” he whispered in the dark. “I’ll follow shortly.”
She sighed as she ran both hands over her gown as if to smooth it. “Joseph, I—”
She broke off the words with a shake of her head. Then she opened the door and was gone.
He stood there for a long moment, trying to cool his ardor. The bulge in his trousers would give him away unless he managed to think of something other than the feel of Harriet in his arms. He counted backward from a hundred until he felt certain his desire wouldn’t be noticeable.
Then he, too, returned to the drawing room. The evening was going to be a long one, but any time spent in the same room with her was welcome.
Chapter Eleven
The next day flew by as if on wings. Harriet and Frances were asked to do all manner of things in preparation for the ball. They directed the staff where to set the large vases of flowers they’d arranged along with other decorations around the ballroom. There were last-minute decisions to make about the light supper and desserts that would be served as well as where to place the tables that would hold the refreshments.
Despite being busy, Harriet’s thoughts were frequently filled with Joseph. She couldn’t believe how bold she had been. Their flirtatious touching during dinner had been like a forbidden delight. Once they started, she couldn’t seem to stop.
To think that Joseph had read her mind and joined her in the library was even more of a thrill. In her mind, that proved how taken they were with one another.
Those moments in his arms and the way he had kissed her were something she would never forget.
But she still couldn’t see how this would end well. And there was no doubt it would come to an end.
The thought was discouraging, but she did her best to push it aside. The time for endings would come too quickly. But today was for celebration.
Soon, the time came for them to dress for the ball.
Frances was giddy with excitement, seeming to have set aside her displeasure with Harriet. Her enthusiasm only made Harriet more determined to do everything in her power not to ruin the evening for her.
Sally helped Frances prepare first before coming to Harriet’s room.
“Miss Melbourne is so excited,” Sally reported. “She looks especially lovely this evening if I do say so myself.”
Harriet laughed. “I’m certain you had a hand in it. I look forward to seeing her gown.”
“Yours is beautiful as well,” she said as she fingered the lace insert that would cover Harriet’s scars.
Sally had commented on them the first time she’d helped Harriet undress.
“How terrible, my lady. What happened?” the maid had asked as she stared in dismay at Harriet’s chest.
Harriet had run a finger along them as memories filled her of that terrible night. “A result of hot tea.”
She was tempted to explain just how the tea had landed on her chest but had learned not to. Mentioning her stepfather’s involvement only seemed to give him more power over her life. That was something she refused to do.
He was gone and would never hurt her or her mother again. That was all that mattered.
Still, she shivered as memories flooded her. Would the events that had followed ever fade from her mind?
Sally’s lips firmed as she looked between Harriet’s scarred chest and the ballgown. “Let us get you dressed,” was all she said.
A short time later, after Sally had secured the dress, and Harriet sat before the dressing table while the maid arranged her hair, Harriet studied the neckline of her gown, wishing it were different. Wishing she were different.
She closed her eyes and gave herself a mental shake. Nothing could be done to change what had happened.
Unfortunately, little could be done to change her future either. Joseph would be disgusted if he ever saw her scars. But if he learned what she had done afterward, he would truly be repulsed.
Though her mother continually insisted that no one needed to know, and they could keep pretending nothing had occurred, Harriet couldn’t imagine marrying and keeping her secret. What sort of marriage would she have if it wasn’t founded on trust?
“You look beautiful, my lady.”
“Thank you.” The gown was one she’d worn before but liked. It was an emerald green with a pleated ruffle of the same color around the hem. Gold cord was sewn into swirls along the bodice. The bustle fell in layers in a flattering cascade down the back. She was careful not to dwell on the high neck in the mirror, reminding herself that she’d much rather cover the scars than show them to the world and be viewed with pity and disgust.
Sally twisted strands of her hair before drawing it back into a chignon high on her head then winding a green ribbon through it that matched her gown. Next, she tucked tiny white flowers in the chignon.
A knock sounded at her door, and the maid secured her hair then stepped away to open it.
“Are you ready, Harriet?” Frances asked as she swept into the room. “Oh, you look lovely.”
“So do you.” Harriet rose from the bench to face her friend. “What a beautiful gown.”
Frances smoothed her white-gloved hands along the front of the rose gown with cream lace trim. Rows and rows of ruffles made her look like a princess, as did the necklace she wore.
“That’s gorgeous,” Harriet said as she drew closer to admire the oval ruby surrounded by small diamonds.
“Thank you.” She glanced down at it with a smile. “A gift from my parents.”
“How special.”
Frances studied Harriet’s gown, her brow puckering. “Are you certain you don’t want to try a gown with a lower neckline? I’m sure I have one you can borrow.”
Harriet’s heart ached at the question. She knew her friends noticed that she always wore modest gowns, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain why. Even mentioning the scars brought forth memories that threatened to swamp her with fear.
“Not this evening.” She managed a smile.
One look at Frances’ expression suggested she’d been less than convincing.
Unwilling to talk about it, especially now, Harriet looped her arm through Frances’ and turned toward the door. “Do you think the guests have started to arrive?”
The neighboring gentry and other affluent people from nearby towns had been invited to the ball. The moment they stepped out of the room, the sounds of the small orchestra warming up could be heard, echoing through the house.
“They should begin arriving soon. Father asked us to join him and Mother in the reception room beforehand.”
Relieved she’d turned away Frances’ attention from her gown, Harriet smiled. “Who do you hope to dance with first?” she whispered as they walked down the stairs.
“As long as I’m asked to dance, it doesn’t matter,” she replied with a giggle. “The gentlemen here have all been very kind, don’t you think?”
“Yes, they have.” But there was only one man with whom Harriet wanted to dance—Joseph. Doing so with anyone else would fade in comparison.
At times like this, Harriet had to wonder if Frances truly liked Joseph or if she simply liked the idea of having a secret tendre for someone. She hadn’t made much of an effort to get to know him. While her shyness was obviously difficult to manage, wouldn’t her desire to become better acquainted overcome it?
Harriet pushed away her doubt. That wasn’t for her to decide. Who was Harriet to know how Frances felt when she would be loath to explain her own feelings?
“There you are.” Mr. Melbourne greeted them with a broad smile as they entered the small reception room a short distance from the ballroom. “Don’t you both look lovely?”
Mr. Melbourne’s affection toward Frances made Harriet miss her own father. She hoped Frances knew how lucky she was. Both her parents were kind.
“Very lovely,” Mrs. Melbourne said with a nod of approval.
“Thank you.” Frances touched her necklace. “And thank you again for the beautiful necklace.”
Mr. Melbourne chuckled, sharing a tender look with his wife. “Our pleasure.”
“Your gown is so elegant,” Harriet said to Mrs. Melbourne. The violet silk fit her figure perfectly, and the ecru fringe moved with every step she took. A daring neckline showed her diamond pendant to full advantage. “You look beautiful.”
“You’re too kind, Lady Harriet,” Mrs. Melbourne said.
“Thank you again for inviting me.” Harriet looked between them. “It has been a wonderful week.”
“We’re pleased you could come and keep Frances company.” Mrs. Melbourne touched Harriet’s arm. “I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself.”
Mr. Melbourne walked to the sideboard where crystal decanters gleamed in the candlelight. He poured three glasses of sherry and brought them over, handing the first to his wife before giving one to Frances and Harriet. “Are you young ladies ready to dance away the night?”
“Most definitely,” Frances said as she took her glass then looked at Harriet.
