My Wayward Lady (25 page)
"Shh." Adrian gently laid a finger on her lips. "I want you to forget that such an unfortunate incident ever occurred. If I had been more watchful, you never would have had to suffer such indignities, and for that I heartily apologize." 231
My Wayward Lady
by Evelyn Richardson
"Oh no." Her lips moved softly against his finger. "I fully accept responsibility for what happened. If I had not insisted on going to Mrs. Lovington's, I never would have met Sir..." Harriet shuddered. She could not even bring herself to say his name.
That shudder tore at his heart. The marquess pulled Harriet into his arms, cradling her protectively. "Hush. It is all over."
"Thanks to you." Harriet smiled up at him. He had only meant to hold her, to comfort and reassure her, but when she gazed up at him with a tremulous smile on her soft lips and unshed tears glistening in her eyes, it was too much. He gathered her closer to him and bent his lips to hers.
Adrian had kissed countless women in his life, from innocent but eager country wenches to the most sophisticated flirts of the
ton,
not to mention several of Mrs. Lovington's most sought-after ladies, but he had never experienced the curious breathlessness that came over him now as his lips met Harriet's. She felt so tiny, so vulnerable, and her lips felt so smooth and gentle under his. He had hungered for this so long that he was almost dizzy now that he was finally experiencing it.
How long had he been dreaming of it? Until now, it had not been a conscious wish, but as his lips moved against hers gently and longingly, Adrian realized that he had wanted it for a very long time, almost from the first moment he had seen her that day in the schoolroom. She had been so very angry at him, spitting at him like a frightened kitten, and he had 232
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loved her all the more for it. He groaned and buried his hands in the red curls. It was love. He had been too afraid to admit it, had been avoiding acknowledging his attraction to her—an attraction that went far beyond physical desire—but now there was no denying it. He could not have helped himself even if he had tried. But for this one precious moment at least, he did not want to try.
Lord Chalfont now knew that he had not been acting on chivalrous impulses alone when he had chased after her into Hertfordshire and rescued Harriet from Sir Neville. He had also done it because he was half out of his mind with worry over her and because he could not bear the thought of her in another man's arms, especially Sir Neville's. But he had no right to feel this way.
Adrian sighed and pressed his lips more firmly against hers. He was Alicia's affianced husband and she would never give him up. Of course she did not love him, nor he her, but she was enamored of her role as the future Marchioness of Kidderham and she was not going to allow anything to stand in the way of that goal.
Harriet's lips parted gently under his and Adrian thought he had never known such sweetness. She seemed to melt in his arms and meld with him in a closeness, an intimacy that he had never before experienced with another human being. To Adrian it felt as though she had been made for him, that somehow they had been meant for each other, to be partners throughout life, experiencing and sharing it together. Harriet had come along at the moment when his life was losing all meaning and she had restored his waning faith and 233
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enthusiasm. But was that to be all there was? Surely not. Surely he would not feel this way about someone who was to leave his life as quickly as she had come into it. The thought was intolerable. Yet how could he stand to be near her, to see her impish smile and her quick, light way of moving, or the little frown that wrinkled her forehead when she was puzzling over something, if he could not have her? Would he be able to bear being near her any better than he could bear being without her? Adrian thought he had never known such agony. The years of hardship in the Peninsula watching his men die, the hell that had been Waterloo, nothing compared to what he was experiencing now as he realized that he had found what he had been searching for most of his adult life and now he could never have it. "Oh, Harriet, Harriet, whatever shall I do?" he whispered against her hair.
Surprised by the anguish in his voice, Harriet pulled away and regarded him curiously. His face was drawn, his eyes full of pain. She had caught only the briefest glimpse of this pain before, but now it was so strong it was almost palpable. Longing to comfort him, but not knowing what to say or do, she reached up and gently stroked his cheek. Adrian caught her hand with both of his and held it, kissing it slowly and caressing it with his lips as, lost in thought, he stared at nothing in particular. At last he looked at her, gazing deep into her eyes. "It's no use, my love. I know I should not say it, but I cannot lie to you. I love you, Harriet. I always have." A bitter laugh escaped him. "And I think I always will."
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Harriet stared at him in astonishment. Truly this had been a most remarkable day. She had gone from the depths of loathing to ... she did not know precisely what. She had emerged breathless and shaken from a kiss that had sent strange quivers of longing through her entire body, but at the same time had felt so perfectly natural, so right somehow, that she was thoroughly confused by it all. The only thing that Harriet was sure of was that she had not wanted the kissing to stop. Then he had whispered words of love and that had brought her up short. She was Harriet Fareham, known as the scapegrace of her family and something of an oddity. Men, especially men such as the Marquess of Kidderham, did not whisper pretty nothings in her ear, rather they steered clear of a woman who was more likely to laugh at such protestations than believe them. However, Lord Chalfont appeared to be deadly serious.
"You stare. Is it so impossible that such a thing should happen, that I should love a gallant, beautiful woman who devotes herself to the welfare of others. Is that so improbable?"
"But—but what about Kitty and the rest of Mrs. Lo—" Adrian gave a crack of cynical laughter. "Love has nothing to do with that, my darling girl. I only visited the Temple of Venus in the first place because I was so damn bored." And, he thought,
because I could not bear the idea of a future tied
to Alicia.
But Alicia was something he did not wish to discuss at the moment. She was too painful a reminder of the impossibility of the situation. "The rest of my visits were only to see you."
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"To see me?" Harriet responded wonderingly. Then her mouth quirked into a skeptical little smile. "I am not such a green girl that you can make me believe that for a minute. You enjoyed yourself far too much."
"Ha! And that is where you are fair and far out Miss Knowit-all. Ask anyone at the Temple of Venus if I was there any other time except Tuesday mornings. Ask any one of Mrs. Lovington's ladies why I was there. They knew even if you did not."
"Oh." Harriet was too nonplussed to say anything more. The whole situation was too incredible for words. That a man of the world such as Lord Chalfont, should ever fall truly in love, much less admit to it, was surprising enough, but that he should do so with someone such as Harriet was nothing short of astounding. She shook her head in amazement. It was not that she disliked the idea, far from it. In all honesty, Harriet had to admit to herself that the prospect of encountering Lord Chalfont had added a great deal to her own enjoyment of the sessions at the Temple of Venus. Even though she had deplored the reasons for his presence there, she had, nevertheless, looked forward to it more than she had allowed herself to acknowledge. Now it seemed that his being there had not been to satisfy his appetites after all, and her last defense against him—her disgust at such licentious behavior—crumbled as easily as a castle in the sand before the incoming tide, leaving her helpless to resist the warmth of his eyes and the persuasiveness of the lips that came down again on hers.
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Unable to think or to act, Harriet gave herself up to his kiss, opening her mouth under his as he tasted her hungrily. She was intensely aware of the muscles rippling in his arms as he pulled her to him, and the warmth and strength in his hand as he slowly slid it up the back of her neck to entwine his fingers in her hair and pull her closer to him. A strange fluttery sensation began in the pit of Harriet's stomach and spread slowly and languorously throughout her entire body until she was breathless and tingling all over, until she could think of nothing but how delicious it was to give herself up to the amazing sensations he was evoking within her.
So this was what had brought that sly, secret smile to Kitty's face when she had referred to Lord Chalfont. Harriet sighed dreamily. She could well understand it now and she wanted it to go on forever. But all too soon, the carriage hit a stone in the road and lurched crazily, bringing both of them back to their senses.
Adrian was the first to recover. Raising his head, he shook it in a dazed sort of way and sighing, he set her gently, but firmly back on her side of the carriage. "Forgive me. Lady Harriet. I had no right. I cannot say what came over me. It was the relief of finding you safe and unharmed after all that worry that made me speak out of turn. But there is no excuse. I—I beg your pardon." His voice was hoarse with emotion and he was breathing oddly in a manner that was totally unlike the self-assured Lord Chalfont she was accustomed to.
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"It's quite all right. Think nothing of it," Harriet replied in a small voice. For a moment she had almost believed what he said, that he truly cared about her. But now her heart, which had been soaring just seconds ago, plummeted. Upset as he was by his own conflicted feelings, Adrian could still recognize the pain in her voice and see her anguish in the way she straightened herself and stared purposefully out the window. "Harriet, Harriet, I am making the most dreadful mull of all this. What I mean is that having gone from concern for your welfare, to rage at Sir Neville, to relief at discovering you, I was overwhelmed by my feelings and not thinking clearly. I only knew what I wanted to say and do, not what I should say and do, but my momentary lapse does not make any of it less true. It is just that now my judgment has reasserted itself, I know how impossible a dream loving you is. I am betrothed to Alicia, and honor forbids me from saying to you any of the things I might wish to." It was the marquess's turn to bite off his words and stare unseeingly out the window.
Harriet stole a glance at the stem profile, and her heart was torn by the lines of unhappiness etched in his face and the grim set to his mouth. She knew as well as he did what a penance life with the exacting and proper Alicia would be for someone who possessed the reckless nature and lively mind of Lord Chalfont. But she also knew that for Alicia there was no other choice in life but to marry the man who had been chosen for her, no matter how little she had in common with him.
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From childhood, Harriet had sensed the limited choices open to girls. After her experiences at Mrs. Lovington's she was all the more aware of these limitations, and the unhappy fates of those who did not abide by them. It was a hopeless situation. There was nothing to do but make the best of it and do what little she could to make it easier for the man to whom she owed her escape from the clutches of Sir Neville. Summoning up a watery smile, Harriet laid a hand on Adrian's sleeve. "I quite understand, believe me."
"Do you?" The amber eyes searched hers for answers and found them in their steady, trusting gaze. "Yes, I believe you do. You understand a great deal more of the world than do most people. You are a wise little thing despite your impetuosity and youth." Adrian took her hand in his, murmuring to himself as he turned it over, "So small, yet so strong, like its owner." He looked up, examining her face intently for a moment before continuing, "I do hope that we can continue our friendship despite what has occurred, for I value your advice and your point of view on things too highly to give that up."
"Why—why, thank you," Harriet stammered. In some ways, this declaration was as surprising and gratifying as his words of love, not to mention rather unexpected, from a man who heretofore had seemed to indulge in only one sort of conversation with women—flirtation.
The rest of the journey was accomplished in virtual silence, both of them wrapped up in their separate sobering reflections.
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There was just the faintest hint of pink in the western sky as they pulled up in front of the Portman Street barracks. Leaving Harriet in the carriage, Adrian dispatched one of the postboys in search of a hackney while he went to look for the lady's brother.
Charlie was seated with his brother officers finishing off a bottle of port and trading stories of the Peninsula when Lord Chalfont walked in, but Adrian could see that his heart was not in it. A preoccupied frown clouded his usually sunny countenance, and he leaped up the minute he heard the door open.
The captain was at the marquess's side in a moment.
"Chalfont!" He gave Adrian a hearty buffet on the shoulder as he led him out into the deserted entrance hall where he lowered his voice to demand anxiously, "Harriet, how is she?
If that blackguard has hurt her, by God—"
"Relax, Fareham, she's as right as a trivet. I fancy we shan't be seeing Sir Neville around here again," the marquess reassured him. "In fact, the most difficult task of the day is that which lies before us, or before you, I should say, and that is to act convincing enough so that everyone in Berkeley Square believes Harriet to have been in your company the entire time that she was not with Rose. I happened to have visited the exhibit at the Egyptian Hall myself so that I can coach you on the particulars should someone question. But 240
