“I twisted my ankle coming down those stairs and I’ve got bruised ribs, but that’s not the problem.”
“There’s something worse?” she asked. Fear threatened to choke her.
“I had too much to drink.” He slumped against the wall beside the closed library door and held his head in his hands.
“What?” Her breath left her body in a great rush.
He spoke each word deliberately: “I. Had. Too. Much. To. Drink.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, you’re drunk?” How could he frighten her like that?
“No. Not any more.” He slid to the floor and rested his head on his knees. “The carriage will be ready soon, why don’t you go upstairs and pack some overnight things?”
In less than half an hour, Philip was handing both her and Cressandra into the carriage. He hopped in behind them, settled himself next to Cressandra and shut his eyes.
“What is going on, Philip? Why are those men in my house?” Tears glistened in Cressandra’s eyes. She blinked and one overflowed and trickled down her cheek.
Philip remained silent. Upon closer inspection Harriet thought he looked even greener than before. She wondered if the alcoholic fumes where coming from him, not from the inside of the carriage as she had first thought. If they were coming from him, it was a wonder he was still able to sit upright; her eyes were watering from the intensity of the vapours.
Harriet leaned across the carriage and whispered, “Are you all right, Philip?”
He opened one eye and gave a small shake of his head. She noticed he had his teeth clenched tightly together.
“Would you like us to stop for a moment?”
Again he gave a small shake of his head. He shut his eye again.
“You might feel better on this side of the carriage, at least you will be facing forwards.”
Without so much as opening his eyes, he shifted next to her.
“Do you want me to sit next to Cressandra? You would have more room.” She made to move but his hand shot out and grasped hers and held it tightly in his lap. She tested his grip by trying to gingerly remove it from his hold, but his clasp was unbreakable.
Harriet looked up from where their hands were resting and encountered Cressandra’s intense gaze. Philip’s sister raised an eyebrow and then turned her head and looked out the window, tears still seeping down her face.
They didn’t travel very far. The traffic was slow and they were trapped in the brandy-infused enclosure for close to an hour, but Harriet was sure they hadn’t travelled more than a mile or so to their destination. It would have been faster to walk. She looked at Philip. Well, maybe not.
He slumped in the seat next to her and his head rolled on his neck with every sway of the carriage. He had fallen into unconsciousness not long after he grasped her hand. She had tried to extract it back, but he still wouldn’t relinquish his hold.
They rolled to a stop outside a grand house and a footman rushed to open the door. The red of his coat stood out in the darkness and she had to admit that he cut a mighty fine figure in the tailored uniform. Before she could admire him further, the butler descended the stairs and peered into the carriage and gave a long-suffering groan.
He climbed into the vehicle himself and heaved Philip out onto the pavement. The footman managed to catch him before he made contact with the ground, sparing his face from permanent damage.
“Cressandra, where are we?” Harriet asked the weeping woman as she linked their arms and followed the butler up the steps.
“Lord Bingham’s.” She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with her tissue. “He’ll help us. He always helps Philip.” Bitterness was evident in her words but Harriet didn’t think now was the time to question her about it.
They were shown into a drawing room so elegant it put Cressandra’s private parlour to shame. Velvet covered the walls and the furnishings looked like the kind you shouldn’t sit upon. But they apparently were, she thought, as the butler deposited Philip’s prone body onto the floral couch. Cressandra sat gingerly in one of the wing-backed chairs close by.
Before Harriet could decide if she should take the chair closest to Philip’s head or his feet, in strode one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. His dark hair fell in soft waves that begged to be touched and his green eyes cut into her, as though he could read every thought. She shook her head; she knew this man. She had even danced with him the other night.
“Lord Bingham.” She dropped a curtsey in greeting.
“It is pleasure to see you again, Miss Harriet however unexpected.” He looked at his friend prone on the couch. “And how can I be of assistance at this hour, my dear?”
Harriet was unsure how much Lord Bingham was aware of the circumstances of her appearance, but she figured since Philip had brought them here, he must be prepared to share the information. She looked behind her at Philip once more before turning back to their host. Cressandra was curled up in the chair, making mewing noises like a lost kitten. She wouldn’t be any help either.
“Philip appears to have inebriated himself tonight.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary there, although I had hoped he had outgrown this behaviour. And I must admit I thought he had, especially after the situation he found himself in last time, but it appears I was mistaken.”
“No, you don’t understand. Cressandra and I went to a musical tonight…”
“Yes, the Knightleys’, my wife attended as well.”
“Yes I saw her there. When we arrived home there were three men in the house and after a short kerfuffle Philip brought us here. Do you know the significance of this?”
Lord Bingham looked at her intently. “I am well aware of the situation, yes.”
“I think Philip thought we would be safe here.”
“More so than in his protection tonight, yes.” Lord Bingham walked over to his friend and looked down at his sleeping form. “He didn’t go out tonight like this did he?”
“No, he stayed behind. I’m not sure he even knew we were gone.”
That brought his attention back to her. “You think that was wise, considering the situation you find yourself in? You should have told him you were leaving the house.”
“I thought perhaps Cressandra had let him know where we were going.” She felt like she was explaining herself to her dad about being out past curfew. Now where had that thought come from?
“You are perplexed? I can see it in your face.”
“I just remembered something,” she sighed. “But nothing important. It’s nothing.”
“Are you remembering anything that’s important?” he asked.
“I suppose so, but this time it was just a distant memory about my childhood.”
“And does this childhood give you any insight as to who you are?”
Try as she might, Harriet could not bring any detail to mind, just a vague feeling that something didn’t quite add up. “No, I can’t remember enough to discover that.”
Jasper huffed and walked back over to Philip and stared down at him with a look of disgust on his face. “I thought he had given this all up. I haven’t seen him drink more than a drop or two since you arrived. What has sent him back down this road, I wonder?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Cressandra spoke from the chair next to her brother. She gave Lord Bingham a look that clearly indicated she thought he was thick.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow. What exactly do you mean, Lady Cressandra?”
***
Philip lay there listening to the conversation being conducted around him. He cracked open his eyes to watch them. His head pounded in protest at the noise, so much so he almost missed what his sister was saying.
“He’s in love with her.”
“Who her?”
“You really are obtuse, Lord Bingham.” Cressandra pointed past Jasper to someone standing in the corner, but Philip couldn’t make out who it was from his prone position.
“Miss Harriet?” Jasper asked.
“Of course he won’t admit it. That would be much too sensible for my brother. But you observed his behaviour at the ball last night didn’t you, Lord Bingham? You saw the way his eyes followed her every move.”
“Yes, quite,” Jasper said, a smile in his voice.
The heart stilled in his chest. His sister couldn’t be right, could she? He didn’t love Harriet. He closed his eyes for a moment and if he was seeking his answer it was there before him; her face was all he could see. He groaned. This could not be happening. He did not have time to fall in love. He didn’t even know who she was. Or where she came from. He couldn’t just marry someone he didn’t know.
Philip’s eyes sprang open and he sat bolt upright. Marriage? What the hell was he thinking?
“Um, you all right Philip, old boy?” Jasper asked.
Philip looked around the room; he had forgotten he wasn’t alone, as absorbed as he was in his thoughts.
His face flushed red upon seeing Harriet across the room. “Um, fine.” He swung his legs onto the floor and held his head in his hands. What was he to do now?
“Now that you’re awake, Phil, perhaps we should go over the events of tonight? Lady Cressandra and Miss Harriet have given a limited account of what took place.”
He raised his head and asked, “What do you know?”
“It’s best if we assume nothing. Start at the beginning.” Jasper paced the floor. It was something he and his friend had in common, they both thought better when they were moving.
Philip took a deep breath and cast his mind back to when he had left his study earlier that day. “I needed a drink and a quiet place to indulge in it so I found a room on the third floor that as far I could tell hasn’t been used for years. It was after some time I became aware of voices downstairs, voices I’m not familiar with. I listened in the passageway. They were the men who had tried killing Harriet that night in the park.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I’m sure,” he said looking Jasper directly in the eye.
His friend nodded his understanding and pulled the bell, summoning his butler. “Madison, fetch my wife if you could, she’ll want to be present for this. Oh and see if you can find Lord Eaglestone some strong tea.”
No one said anything until Grace, Lady Bingham swept into the room.
“Jasper,” she said as soon as she entered. “What is the meaning of waking me up, you know I need my rest.” Her hand rested lightly on her stomach as she approached her husband.
Jasper wrapped an arm around his wife and gazed down at her. The look of pure love upon his face was disgusting. Philip felt the alcohol roll in his stomach. He held his head all the harder, willing the room to stop moving on its own.
“Welcome to our home, Miss Harriet. Lady Cressandra, it is so nice to see you again.” Grace turned to the figure prone on her couch. “And you too, Philip. Although I did think we had seen the last of this behaviour.” A smile lit her face as she spoke and she brushed a tender hand across his hair in a motherly gesture.
Philip looked up and gave her a wobbly smile. “I thought so too.” He couldn’t help but send an accusing glare at Harriet.
Harriet was blissfully unaware of the look she was receiving. Instead she was admiring the mural on the wall of the parlour. “Where is this, Lady Bingham?” she asked.
“Oh, that comes from a dream I have now and then. I sometimes feel I lived there in a past life,” Grace laughed airily.
A chill ran down Harriet’s spine. The mural on the wall jarred memories hiding in the back of her mind. She could feel them stirring but none floated to the surface for her to grab hold of.
***
Lady Bingham took Harriet to her room herself. “Marie, my maid, is already asleep and I don’t wish to wake her,” she explained as she led the way down the dimly-lit hallway, the carpet soft under their feet. “Let me know if there’s anything at all you need,” she said before she left Harriet to prepare for bed.
Philip looked better after Lady Bingham had fed him tea and biscuits. He and Lord Bingham were still downstairs in the parlour discussing their next move. Lord Harrison had arrived shortly before Harriet retired for the night, and even now she could hear their voices murmuring below her.
She climbed into the soft bed and pulled the covers up to her nose, wriggling her legs to warm the cool sheets. The men’s voices soon lulled her to sleep.
Chapter 29
The carriage raced across the hard-packed road. Harriet braced herself with her hands, so that she didn’t fly out the open window.
“Don’t you think we will attract attention to ourselves travelling this fast?” she shouted over the creaking of the springs.
“There are plenty of couples that race in this direction every day on their way to Gretna Green.”
“Where?”
“Gretna Green. In Scotland.” Philip must have noticed the confusion on her face because he added, “Where couples elope to get married.”
“Oh.” Was he taking her there? He had bundled her up after lunch and they had set a breakneck speed since leaving town. He hadn’t said a word as to where they were headed. Curiosity got the better of her. “Is that where we are headed?”
“Good God no!”
There was no reason he needed to be so adamant about it. There was no reason her heart dropped either. It must have been from that last rather nasty bump they hit.
“We’ll stop up the road and change horses…and direction.”
Harriet didn’t bother answering.
By the time they reached their destination the muscles in her arms were screaming in protest. She had kept them rigid the entire trip, straining to keep her seat.
Philip regained his gentlemanly demeanour and helped her down from the carriage and escorted her inside. “Would you like some tea and a bite to eat? We can stay for about an hour if you wish. It’ll give you time to recover from our mad dash. The rest of the way won’t be so hurried. Sit down here and I’ll arrange for some refreshments.”
Philip left her at a table in the corner of the room where she was mostly hidden from view. There were a few other travellers present, but otherwise the room was quiet and peaceful, especially after the frantic ride here.
Philip slid into the seat next to hers, a grim look upon his face.
“What is it?” she asked.
His frown deepened. “We will be spending the night here tonight. They’re unable to provide us with another set of horses. It appears we are not the only ones wanting to go further today.” He cast an annoyed look around the room. “They are out of fresh horses.”
“Do they have room for us to stay?” She was sure he wasn’t telling her the whole story.
Philip wouldn’t meet her eye. In fact, he wouldn’t answer her question. He kept his eyes turned away, seemingly focused on something across the room.
“Philip? Do they have room for us to stay?” She reached out and touched his arm. He snatched his arm free, leaving her hurt and confused. Did she do something wrong?
Finally he turned his head and looked her in the eye. Why did it seem he had to build up his courage to do so? “There is room, yes.”
“Oh, that’s delightful.”
“I wasn’t finished,” he said between clenched teeth.
“Oh. What else is there?”
“Well, I couldn’t very well travel with you here without a chaperone and then ask for two rooms. I um, well I said we were married.”
“You did what?” She was afraid her voice was louder than she meant for it to be. Everyone in the room turned to stare at them.
Philip leaned closer. “I said we were married. I booked only one room for tonight.”
“Could you have stated your ‘wife’ likes to sleep alone?”
He leaned back and crossed his arms. “No wife of mine is sleeping away from me.”
“But Philip,” she whispered, “I’m not your wife.”
“For to
night you are.” He got up from the table and left her there staring at his retreating back.
Chapter 30
For tonight you are. His words rang over and over through her head. They repeated themselves throughout dinner and now as she prepared for bed.
Bed. There was only one.
She sat at the dressing table in her borrowed nightdress and combed her hair. She wished Lady Bingham had packed her something a little less revealing. And that she had packed a wrap to go over it. Harriet felt almost naked sitting there in the near dark. A candle was lit beside the bed and another where she was sitting, but that was the only light in the room. The evening was too warm to have the fire in the grate going. She wondered how long Philip would stay downstairs.
She looked up from her musings when she heard a floorboard creak outside their room. She quickly blew out her candle and shot over to the bed and dove under the covers. By the time Philip entered the room, she was buried deep and pretended to be asleep.
Five minutes later she regretted her decision to pull the covers up to her chin. It was sweltering under all the blankets. There was a minimal breeze coming through the window and Philip had taken it upon himself to start the fire. Soon she was so hot she couldn’t handle it any longer. She rolled over and kicked at the covers, trying to get them to pull down a little.
“Hot are you?”
Her eyes snapped open. Philip stood by the hearth, the glowing flames reflected in his eyes. Her breath shuttered in her throat at the sight of his bare chest, for he stood there with his shirt missing and his trousers unlaced, the fall half hanging open.
Chapter 31
Philip stayed as long as he could downstairs. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten his fake wife. He saw the flash of fear in her eyes at his announcement and he hated himself for scaring her so. Wasn’t it him that swore she would never be frightened again, that he, Philip Blade, Lord Eaglestone, was the one who would protect her? No, it was he who frightened her the most.
He climbed the stairs slowly, prolonging his torture. He had spent a good portion of the last two hours trying not to picture his travelling companion in his bed. But each passing minute he had pictured her in more and brighter detail. He was tempted to stay downstairs all night, but the look the tavern wrench was giving him was unnerving and the truth was, he wanted to spend the night with Harriet, even if it was in a chair next to her bed. Lord knows he had spent enough of his time watching her while she slept.
Damsel in Distress? Page 11