How to Treat a Lady (25 page)

She bit her lip. “Actually, I can't get it off. I haven't been able to get it off since the first time I put it on.” She grasped it with her other hand and pulled and pulled, but the ring would not budge. She stopped and sighed. “I tried butter and oil, but it's stuck.”

Chase looked down at her fingers. They seemed so slender beneath the heavy silver band. He lifted her hand in his and gently tugged on the ring. It hung for a second, as if not wanting to move. But then it released and easily slid off her finger.

Harriet's mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. “How did—I tried so hard! I can't believe you just—Oh, piffle!”

Chase looked at the ring. Mother had said that it would lead the possessor to his one true love. Could it be—

“Harri!” Stephen and Sophia waved from across the barn yard.

Harriet sighed. “Time to get back to work, I suppose.”

“Yes, it is.” At least for today. “Harriet, about the ring. Perhaps you should—”

“No. It belongs with you. I—”

Stephen and Sophia called again and Harriet sighed. “I have to go. We'll discuss this later.”

Chase nodded and watched as she joined her brother and sister. Chase wondered if the ring felt as bereft as he did. His fingers curled over it.

After a moment, he slipped it into his pocket and went to help Derrick with the shearing.

This time, Chase worked as hard as he could, though his mind never stopped mulling over the thorny problem that faced him.

He was beginning to care far too much for Harriet Ward. He had to leave Garrett Park. And soon.

T
hat day and the next, Chase worked harder than he had ever worked in his life. Derrick had at first asked what the hurry was, but had soon gotten into the spirit of things, and it was with huge satisfaction that they stood two nights later and looked at the bales of wool that filled the barn. They'd had to move the horses to the shed for the night, just to make room for it all.

They were almost finished. The time had come for Chase to leave. Sighing, Chase hung the lantern on a nail and pulled a pair of gloves from his back pocket and tugged them on.

Derrick groaned. “We don't have to stack the bales tonight.”

Chase looked at the untidy bundles of wool that littered the barn. “I'm going to at least get them sorted into wagonloads.”

“That will take hours.”

“I haven't anything better to do.”

“I have.” Derrick put his hands on his hips and stretched, then groaned. “I'm going to get a hot bath, then go to bed. If I don't, I won't be able to move tomorrow.”

Chase smiled. “You're going inside to read a book. Don't pretend otherwise.”

“Oh, all right,” Derrick said with a lopsided grin. “I was going to read a little. But I was also going to take a bath, and I really am sore.”

“We all are.” The sun had set an hour ago, and now all that was left was one last dinner with the Wards. For some reason, the thought of facing them seemed impossible. It would be better if he just quietly went away. His good humor slipped a notch, then disappeared altogether. “Go on to the house. I'll do what I can before dinner and join you then.”

“Very well,” Derrick said. He walked toward the barn door, then hesitated. “By the way, I've been meaning to say—well, you've worked hard and you didn't need to.”

“Of course I needed to. We've a payment to make on Garrett Park, don't we?”

“We.” Derrick smiled. “Yes,
we
do. Thank you.”

“It's my pleasure.” Chase watched as Derrick walked out the door. A murmur of voices in the yard and the glimmer of a lantern through the cracks in the walls told him that Harriet was on her way. She appeared a moment later, Stephen by her side.

If Chase looked weary, so did Harriet. Her eyes were shadowed, her shoulders stooped. He could almost feel the weariness seep from her.

Stephen stepped forward. “There you are, Chase.
We did well today, didn't we? Harri says we're a good day ahead of schedule.”

“We did very well.” Chase picked up a bundle of wool and stacked it on a neat pile by the back wall. “I daresay we won't have more than a few hours of work left in the morning. We'll have the wool ready for market two days ahead of schedule.”

Stephen grinned. “I cannot wait to see Gower's face when we make that final payment.”

Chase straightened, trying not to look at Harriet, who stood quietly inside the door. “Stephen, I have something for you.”

“What?”

“The clothing that is in my wardrobe.”

“B—but that's your clothing!”

“Indeed it is. I've been wearing your clothes, so now is the time for you to wear mine.”

“But—why?”

“Wear them when you go to town tomorrow and make certain Miss Strickton sees you. If she is impressed with that popinjay you were telling me about, she'll be quite smitten with you. You can even ride my horse.”

Stephen's eyes brightened. “By Jove, that's the very thing! Are you sure you don't mind?”

“Of course I don't mind. I have plenty more clothes where those came from.” So many that he was almost embarrassed to think about it. Strange how things had changed. How he had changed.

“Do you mind if I look at them now?” Stephen said eagerly. “I'd like to try on your blue coat. Oh, and those buff breeches! Those are quite the thing. And the wine-colored waistcoat is—”

“Go!” Chase laughed. “You may try them all on.”

Stephen turned, then stopped when he saw Har
riet. “Oh! Almost forgot you, Harri. Here. I'll leave the lantern so you can see your way to the house.” He handed her the lantern, then hurried off.

Chase began stacking the bundles once more, wondering what he should say. What he
could
say.

Silence hung loud and heavy, and then Harriet walked farther inside the barn. She set the lantern on the ground by the loft pole and surveyed the bundles of wool for a long moment. “We did well today.”

“Yes, we did.” Chase didn't trust himself to look at her. Not now. Not ever.

She was silent a moment more, watching as he piled the bundles higher. Finally she said, “I will see you at dinner.”

It wasn't a question, so Chase didn't answer it. Clenching his teeth, he continued stacking the bales. God, but it would be hard, leaving her tomorrow. Leaving everything at Garrett Park. But what else could he do?

A moment later, he heard her give a soft sigh before moving toward the door. “Harriet—” The word was torn from him. He turned to face her.

She stood by the door, her back to him. “Yes?”

Her voice sifted gently to him, a whisper of silk on the silence of the night. Chase closed his eyes, his chest so tight that it ached. But what could he say? That he loved her?

The thought slammed into his heart and sucked all his breath from his lungs. He loved Harriet. Loved her so much that the thought of being separated from her made him ache with a physical pain. He loved her and needed her, but love wasn't enough. What if he couldn't get forgiveness from his family for his sins? What if he became an outcast, a
pariah? He would never put that burden on another soul.

Especially not on Harriet. “Good night, Harriet. I'm not coming to dinner this evening.”

She didn't move for so long that he wondered if she'd heard him. But then she sighed and nodded. The next instant, she was gone.

Chase stayed where he was for a long time. The night air grew damp and chill, the wind picked up and blew through the cracks in the barn walls. Chase wiped a hand across his face, surprised to find it damp. He cursed, then turned to finish stacking the bales.

Much later, he finished, his body so weary he could barely move. He took off the gloves and laid them on a bench by the door so that he would find them the next day. One more day…that's all he had left.

Chase turned to collect the lantern. As he lifted it, the nail on which it was hung came loose from the pole and fell to the floor. Chase cursed, then bent to pick it up. As he did so, he saw something in the scattered hay on the ground.

What was that? He brushed aside some loose hay and found the St. John talisman ring. How had that gotten here? Chase picked it up and turned it over in his hand. It lay in his palm, cold and dull. It must have fallen from his pocket—

A whisper of movement stirred the air behind him. Chase whirled, but he was too late. The world exploded in a blinding flash of color and pain. And then…there was nothing.

 

The clock chimed midnight when Harriet finally gave up trying to pretend to sleep. She rose and lit a candle. She was tired and aching, her eyes hot and
dry. Damn Chase St. John. Not only was he stealing her heart, but he'd stolen her peace of mind, as well.

She sighed. She wasn't being fair and she knew it. He'd done far more than anyone could have asked. It was just that she wanted the impossible—she wanted him to love her, to love her and to love Garrett Park.

Harriet looked at herself in the mirror over her dressing table, grimacing at the circles beneath her eyes. She rubbed her cheeks, trying to find some color. Heavens, she was as pale as a ghost. Sinking onto the cushioned seat, she began combing her hair.

It was lamentably thick and sadly brown. When she'd been a child, she'd spent an entire summer without her hat in an effort to get some sort of color to it. She'd thought perhaps a startling reddish hint might appear, but instead, all she'd done was turn her skin a lightly toasted color that did little to alleviate the overall brownish cast of her appearance, but had added several unfortunate freckles to the bridge of her nose.

“Brown, brown, brown,” she muttered with dissatisfaction at her reflection in the mirror, pulling the brush through an especially troublesome knot. Perhaps, if she'd had flaxen hair and apple cheeks and not boring brown hair and a thin face, then Chase might have fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with her. Like a prince in a fairy tale.

That would have been divine. Harriet imagined what it would be like to have a man like Chase St. John all to herself. Her heart ached at the thought.

Someone pounded on her door. “Harri!” Stephen's voice, raised in fear.

Heavens! What was wrong? Harriet hurried to open the door.

Stephen leaned on his crutches, still dressed in his nightclothes. His eyes were wild, his face white. “The barn is on fire! The wool—” His voice broke.

Dear God, no! Harriet ran to the window and yanked back the curtains. A bright reddish glow lit the predawn blackness.

Harriet's eyes filled with tears. She couldn't believe it. How could this have—“Chase!” She whirled to face Stephen. “Have you seen him?”

Stephen blinked. “No. No, I haven't. Do you think he set the—”

“No, you fool! He was in the barn. By himself. If he fell or—” Harriet brushed past Stephen and ran down the hall to Chase's room. She knocked once, then yanked the door open. It was painfully empty, the bed unslept in.

“Dear God, no,” Harriet said. She would never remember running down the stairs through the foyer, or out the front door. One moment, she was looking at Chase's unmussed bed, and the next, she was standing in the yard, looking up at the barn as it bellowed huge flames. The entire structure cracked and hissed as if furious at the black sky that stretched above it.

Derrick ran up beside her, followed by Sophia and Ophelia. Ophelia had a thick robe over her nightgown, but Sophia had only a blanket over her gown-clad shoulders.

Harriet looked around wildly, her heart thumping painfully against her ribs. “Chase is inside and we have to save him. I need to—”

“
No
,” Derrick said firmly. “You can't. Just look at it.”

“But Chase—”

Sophia put her arm about Harriet. “I'm certain
he's not in there. I daresay he's in the house right now. Maybe he went to the kitchen to get a drink or—”

“I checked his room! His bed hadn't been slept in! Please, we have to—”

“Maybe he's in the library,” Ophelia said desperately, though her voice warbled and a tear leaked down one cheek.

“No!” Harriet cried, her heart pounding painfully. Please God, she had to find him. She had to.

“Look!” Sophia said, tightening her hold on Harriet. “Someone is coming! Maybe they can help.”

They all turned and there, riding down the driveway was Mr. Gower. He pulled up at the sight of the fire. Then he turned and looked at them, meeting Harriet's gaze for a long moment.

She could feel his superior smirk all the way from here.

“I daresay he saw the flames from his house,” Ophelia said. “It's only over the ridge.”

“He can help find St. John,” Derrick said, turning as if to go to the banker. But before Derrick could take two steps, the banker turned and left, walking his horse calmly back down the lane.

Derrick halted, his hands in fists. “That cowardly bastard!”

Harriet broke from Sophia's side and caught Derrick's arm. “We'll have to do this ourselves. Come, Derrick. Sophia, give me your blanket.”

Sophia unwrapped the blanket from her shoulders. “What are you going to—”

Harriet whisked the blanket into her arms and ran to the trough by the railing. She tossed the blanket into the cold water and pushed it all the way under.
Then she picked it up and wrapped it around her, shivering as the cold water soaked her night rail to the skin.

Derrick grabbed her arm, Stephen and Mother followed behind him.

“What do you think you're doing?” Stephen demanded, almost shouting over the crackle of the fire.

“I have to help. He was stacking the wool, he'd have to be near the door and—”

“Harriet, we can't let you do anything foolhardy,” Mother said, coughing as a thick billow of smoke covered them.

Derrick nodded grimly. “We'll stop you if we have to.”

“Oh for the love oh—When have I ever been foolhardy? Look at the barn! The fire's mainly on one side. If we go now, we can find him. If we wait, the smoke will get too thick.”

Derrick hesitated, then glanced inquiringly at Stephen. “She's right. We could possibly—”

“
No.
It's madness. I can't allow—”

“It isn't your choice.” Harriet tightened the blanket about her and turned to the barn.

Mother moved to stand before her. “Dear, just listen—”

Harriet quickly stepped around her and ran.

Behind her, Derrick cursed, but then yanked off his coat and plunged it into the trough.

Harriet didn't wait. Holding the edge of the wet blanket over her mouth, she ducked low and went though the barn door.

Smoke billowed around her, stinging her eyes and sucking the breath from her lungs. Where was he?
She crouched in the doorway, trying to get her bearings and remember where he was when she'd left him.

The smoke thickened, the fire cracked and popped overhead, a live creature, devouring the ancient wood as if starved. It roared with the throaty growl of a hungry bear.

Harriet could barely hear herself think. Chase was in here, she knew it. She could feel it as surely as she could feel the dirt beneath her hands, feel the smoke that tortured her eyes.

Suddenly, she found him, sprawled on the floor. Her fingers closing over his hair, his face. She shook him, trying to wake him. “
Chase!
” she choked, catching her breath. “
Get up!
”