by Amanda Quick
“Good evening, my dear,” he said calmly as he came to a halt in front of her. “I believe they are about to play a waltz. Will you dance with me?”
Harriet lifted her chin and turned her back to him. She plunged back into the conversation as if her very large husband were not looming directly over her.
The group of people around her made a valiant effort to continue the discussion of marine fossils, but it was obvious no one could concentrate on it now. They were all far too curious about this latest development. Harriet might be able to ignore the Beast, but no one else could.
Gideon did not appear to notice that he had been rebuffed. “Thank you, my dear. I knew you could not refuse a waltz.”
Harriet gave a muffled shriek of surprise when Gideon’s massive hands closed around her waist from behind.
He picked her up and carried her effortlessly out onto the floor amid a flood of stifled giggles and disapproving gasps. He set her on her feet, took her into his arms, and swept her into the waltz. There was no escape from the gentle prison of his arms.
Harriet glowered up at him.
Gideon smiled down at her. His tawny eyes gleamed.
“At a loss for words, my dear?”
She longed to lecture him, but could not. To do so would be to break her vow of silence. There was nothing for it but to finish the blasted waltz. Harriet was acutely aware of the fascinated stares and murmured comments from those around her.
What a delightful tidbit this little scene was going to make for the gossips tomorrow morning, Harriet thought resentfully. The ballroom was already humming with the tale.
One more outrageous act from the Beast of Blackthorne Hall.
Gideon talked casually of everything from the state of the weather to the size of the crowd that filled the Berkstones’ ballroom. Harriet glared at a point just past his shoulder as he guided her around the floor.
“I see Fry and Applegate have arrived,” Gideon murmured as the music came to an end. “You will have to excuse me, my dear. I have business to discuss with them.”
Harriet turned on her heel and stalked stiffly back to join her friends. When she glanced back over her shoulder she saw Fry and Applegate hovering together with Gideon in what appeared to be a very serious conversation.
She was not the only one who noticed the trio. So did everyone else in the ballroom as word spread swiftly of what was happening.
“Rumors of a duel,” Lady Youngstreet whispered darkly to Harriet when she returned to her friends. “Fry said it was all very secret, of course. He and Applegate are acting as St. Justin’s seconds. Don’t suppose you know any of the details?”
“No, I do not,” Harriet stated firmly.
Effie came up to her a few minutes later. “The whole ballroom is agog. Is it true? St. Justin is going to fight a duel?”
“Not if I can help it,” Harriet muttered.
Effie eyed her narrowly. “What is going on, Harriet? And what on earth was that outrageous business about a few minutes ago? St. Justin picked you up and carried you out onto the floor. Everyone is talking about it.”
“People always talk about St. Justin,” Harriet muttered. “I need a glass of lemonade. Or perhaps something stronger.”
Lady Youngstreet beamed. “Here comes a footman with a tray. I sent for it earlier. Help yourself, my dear.”
Harriet picked up the nearest glass, not noticing whether it was champagne or lemonade. She took a sip and stood tapping one satin-clad toe.
Effie frowned. “Try not to cause any more comment tonight, Harriet. There has been quite enough as it is.”
“Yes, Aunt Effie.”
Effie gave her one last quelling look and vanished into the crowd.
The small group of fossil enthusiasts gallantly tried to restart the conversation. But their efforts were thwarted when Clive Rushton appeared.
He elbowed his way straight into Harriet’s small circle and fixed her with his unsettling gaze. A hush fell over the little group.
“So,” Rushton said in a rasping voice. “You have succeeded in marrying the Beast. Congratulations, Lady St. Justin. For you are married to a murderer.”
Harriet stared at him in shock. “How dare you, sir?”
Rushton ignored her and the horrified reaction of the small cluster of fossil hunters.
“How long?” Rushton intoned. “How long can you abide fornicating with the demon? How long before the Beast turns on you? How long will you be safe, Lady St. Justin?”
Harriet’s hand was shaking with reaction. The glass she was holding wobbled precariously. “Please, sir. ’Tis obvious you are still crazed with grief even after all these years, and you have my deepest sympathy. But you must go away before St. Justin realizes you are talking to me like this.”
“It is too late,” Gideon said quietly as he materialized at Harriet’s side. “I have already heard him.”
Rushton’s intense eyes swung to Gideon. “Murderer. You killed her. You killed my daughter.” His voice rose to the full-throated roar he had no doubt cultivated in the pulpit. “Hear me now. The Beast of Blackthorne Hall will soon take another victim. His innocent wife will be driven to her death just as my innocent daughter was driven to hers.”
Before anyone realized Rushton’s intention, he grabbed the glass of champagne out of Lady Young-street’s hand and dashed the contents straight into Gideon’s face.
Rage swept through Harriet. “Do not call him a Beast, damn you.”
She hurled the champagne in her own glass into Rush-ton’s startled features. Then she launched herself at him.
Rushton took a step back in astonishment. He threw up his hands to protect himself.
Lady Youngstreet screamed. So did several other women who saw what was happening. The men stood watching helplessly, their expressions full of horror and confusion. No one moved.
Clearly no one knew the socially correct way to deal with a brawl in a ballroom that had been started by a lady.
No one except Gideon.
He took one step forward and caught Harriet just as she started to pummel Rushton. Gideon was laughing so hard he almost dropped her.
“Enough, madam.” Gideon tossed her lightly over his shoulder and held her still with an arm around her thighs. “You have successfully defended my honor. The good Reverend Rushton is defeated, I believe. Is that not so, sir?”
Hanging over Gideon’s shoulder as she was, Harriet had a hard time seeing what was going on. She twisted her head far enough around to see Rushton’s furious features.
Rushton did not respond to Gideon’s taunting. Instead he swung about and pushed his way through the stunned crowd toward the door of the ballroom.
Gideon lowered Harriet to her feet. She straightened her skirts and looked up to find him grinning down at her. His eyes were the color of molten gold.
“Another waltz, madam?” Gideon asked, bowing gallantly over her hand.
Harriet was so unnerved by the events that she went back into his arms without a word.
That night Gideon came to her room after she was in bed just as if everything was entirely normal between them.
The action infuriated Harriet, who had had an opportunity to recover from the scenes at the Berkstones’s ball. She turned her back to him as he sauntered over to the bed.
“Did you enjoy the evening, my dear?” Gideon asked as he put his candle down on the end table.
Harriet possessed herself in stony silence.
“Yes, it was a rather tame affair, was it not? Quite dull, in fact.” Gideon tossed his dressing gown onto a chair, pulled back the covers, and slid in beside her. He was naked. “You looked lovely, as always, however.”
Harriet felt his arm go around her waist from behind. His hand rested on her breast. She tried to ignore it.
“Harriet, did you mean it earlier tonight when you said you loved me?”
That was too much. Harriet forgot her vow of silence. “For goodness’ sake, Gideon, this is hardly the time t
o ask me that. I am furious with you.”
“Yes, I know. You are not talking to me.” He kissed the nape of her neck.
“No, I am not.”
“But did you mean it?”
“Yes,” she admitted, thoroughly disgruntled. His hand was sliding along her hip now and his leg was moving between hers. She could feel him searching out her softness. Her back was to him, but that did not seem to be deterring him in the least.
“I am glad,” Gideon said. He pushed the hem of her gown up to her waist. “That was all I wanted to discuss at the moment. You do not need to say anything else if you would rather not. I will understand.”
“Gideon—”
“Hush.” He leaned over her, kissing her throat and the sensitive place behind her ear. His hand moved over her buttocks. One finger slid between the two soft globes.
Harriet shivered, her body warming immediately to his touch. “Gideon, I meant it when I said I was not speaking to you.”
“I believe you.” His finger traveled lower and eased slowly into her. He worked gently, drawing forth the damp heat, opening her, making her ready.
“Gideon, are you laughing at me?”
“I would never laugh at you, my sweet. But sometimes you do make me smile.”
And suddenly his finger was gone and he was gently, slowly pushing his broad, hard shaft into her.
Even if Harriet had wanted to carry on a conversation at that point, she would have been unable to do so. Pleasure drove out all thought of speech.
The following morning Harriet was scheduled to join Felicity and Effie on a shopping expedition. She was not looking forward to it. She knew Effie would want to lecture her severely about the events in the Berkstones’s ballroom.
When a maid knocked to tell her that her sister and aunt had arrived and were waiting for her, Harriet sealed the letter she had just finished writing.
“You will see this gets into today’s post, do you understand?” she said to the maid.
The girl nodded quickly and left to find a footman. Harriet reluctantly picked up her bonnet and went downstairs.
When she reached the hall, however, she saw no sign of Felicity and Effie. “Where are they, Owl?”
“His lordship invited them into the library to visit while they waited for you, madam.” Owl opened the door for her.
“I see. Thank you.” Harriet whisked into the library and saw Felicity and Effie seated across from Gideon. She groaned.
Gideon rose to his feet, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Good morning, my dear. I see you are ready to leave. What time shall we expect you home?”
The campaign of silence was proving extremely difficult to wage, as Harriet had discovered last night. Nevertheless, she was still making the effort this morning. It was, she had concluded, her only weapon for bringing Gideon to his senses.
Harriet looked at Felicity as she tied her bonnet strings. “You may tell his lordship that after we return from shopping I shall be attending a meeting of the Fossils and Antiquities Society. I shall be back home by four.”
Felicity’s eyes gleamed with amusement. She delicately cleared her throat and turned to Gideon. “Your wife says she will be back by four, my lord.”
“Excellent. Just in time for a ride in the park.”
Harriet scowled. “Felicity, please tell his lordship that I do not feel like a drive in the park today.”
Felicity hid a grin as she looked at Gideon. “My sister says to tell you that—”
“I heard,” Gideon murmured, his eyes on Harriet. “Nevertheless, I wish to ride in the park this afternoon and I know she will want to accompany me. I am most anxious to see her mounted on her new mare.”
“What new mare?” Harriet demanded. Then she realized she had addressed the question to Gideon. She rounded on her sister quickly. “Ask his lordship about this new mare he mentioned.”
“Good grief,” Effie muttered. “I cannot believe this. It is ridiculous.”
Felicity, however, was enjoying the game. “My sister is curious about the new mare, sir.”
“Yes, I imagine she is. Tell her that the mare arrived in our stables yesterday and she will see her for herself when she joins me for a ride in the park this afternoon.”
Harriet glowered at him. “Felicity, kindly tell my husband that I will not be bribed.”
Felicity opened her mouth to relay the warning, but Gideon forestalled her. He held up a hand.
“I understand. My wife does not wish me to think I am trying to get her to break her silence with the gift of the mare. Please assure her I have no such intention. The mare was purchased before she stopped speaking to me, so she needhave no qualms about riding her.”
Harriet flashed him an uncertain glance and then looked at Felicity. “Tell his lordship I thank him for the mare, but I do not feel today would be a good time for me to go riding with him. We would not be able to converse and the ride would be quite tedious.”
“She says—” Felicity began.
“Yes, I heard,” Gideon said. “The thing is, if I go riding in the park alone today after what happened last night, people will most certainly talk. I shall be the subject of a great deal of unpleasant speculation. It is even possible that some will say I am beating my wife.”
“Rubbish,” Harriet snapped to Felicity.
“I am not so certain about that,” Gideon said thoughtfully. “People expect the worst from the Beast of Blackthorne Hall. Beating his wife would be perfectly in keeping with the rumors about him. And after Rushton’s dire predictions and accusations last night, everyone will definitely be waiting for the worst to happen. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Ashecombe?”
Effie gave him a thoughtful look. “Yes. Very probably. One thing is for certain, there will be no lack of gossip today. What with one thing and another, the two of you have managed to make yourselves notorious.”
Harriet gritted her teeth, alarmed at the possibility that he was right. People were always willing to believe the worst of Gideon and he did nothing to stop them. Last night she had actually added to the scandalbroth that always swirled around him. If she was not seen with him today, the rumors of a rift between them would be rampant.
“Very well.” Harriet lifted her chin. “Felicity, you may inform his lordship that I shall join him this afternoon for a ride in the park.”
“I am pleased to hear it, my dear,” Gideon murmured.
Effie rolled her eyes. “I have had enough of this crazed conversation. Let us be off.”
“Certainly.” Harriet led the way out of the library. She refused to look back at Gideon because she knew he was silently laughing at her.
A few minutes later, when Effie and Felicity were seated across from Harriet in the carriage, Felicity succumbed to a burst of giggles.
“I fail to see what is so amusing,” Harriet grumbled.
“How long can you maintain this pose of not talking to him?” Felicity demanded. “I was told on the dance floor last night by several of my partners that there are bets being placed in the clubs. Everyone is trying to guess the exact length of time the Quarrel will last.”
“It is no one’s business,” Harriet retorted.
Effie gave her a severe frown. “If that is the case, you should have kept your Quarrel private.”
“It was impossible to do so,” Harriet said. “Gideon insists on provoking me at every turn. Just as he did in the library a few minutes ago. He refuses to respect the fact that I am not speaking to him.”
Effie eyed her curiously. “You cannot be surprised to learn that Society is finding this all quite fascinating. Your husband has always been a source of gossip.”
“I know,” Harriet admitted.
“Attacking Rushton as you did last night has just added another dollop of excitement to the rumors.”
Harriet scowled. “Rushton called St. Justin a beast again. I cannot abide it when anyone calls him by that horrid name.”
“This is the first time we have had an opp
ortunity to see you alone,” Felicity said, leaning forward intently. “And I have been dying to know just why it is you are not speaking to St. Justin. Does it have anything to do with these rumors of a challenge we have been hearing? What is going on, Harriet?”
Harriet looked at her sister and her aunt and nearly broke into tears. “You have heard about the duel?”
“Everyone has heard,” Felicity assured her. “For heaven’s sake. St. Justin chose Fry and Applegate for his seconds. Neither one of them could keep silent. They are both far too taken with the notion of themselves as men of the world now.”
“It is absolutely outrageous,” Effie complained. “A duel is supposed to be conducted in some secrecy, for goodness’ sake.”
“There are always rumors about duels,” Felicity pointed out.
“Yes, but in this case the matter has virtually become a public spectacle. The entire world knows about it.”
“Oh, dear.” Harriet groped for a handkerchief in her reticule. “It is all so awful. I am so afraid St. Justin will be shot or forced to flee the country. And all because of Mr. Morland. He is not worth a duel. I have explained that to St. Justin, but he refuses to call it off.”
Effie gazed at her thoughtfully. “Is that why you are not speaking to your husband? You are angry with him for risking his neck in a duel?”
Harriet nodded morosely. “Yes. And it is all my fault, in a way.”
Felicity leaned back in the seat. “St. Justin challenged Morland because of something Morland said to you? Is that what happened?”
Harriet sighed. “It was a bit more than just an insult, I’ll grant you. Nevertheless—”
“How much more than just an insult?” Effie demanded.
“Mr. Morland attacked me, if you must know the truth.” Harriet saw the horror in her aunt’s eyes and hastened to reassure her. “But there was no great harm done. Except to Mr. Morland. I dropped a rather large stone on his head. But St. Justin refuses to let the matter rest.”