The Pursuit of Lady Harriett (Tanglewood Book 3)

by Rachael Anderson

  Worried, Chris jumped down and was at her side a moment later, grabbing her elbow to keep her from injuring herself further. “You’re hurt.”

  She stiffened, and her voice wobbled as she answered, “I am well.”

  She was crying, he realized, which meant that she was most certainly not well. Why was she so upset with him? “You’re lying, Harriett. Please, allow me to put you up on Wicked and walk you home.”

  Harriett jerked her arm free and continued to limp towards the house. “I told you, I am well.”

  Christopher stared after her in confusion and frustration, trying to figure out what he had done to upset her.

  “Why will you not let me assist you?” he finally called. “Harriett, please. Help me understand why you are so angry with me.”

  She spun around and winced at the pain the sudden movement must have cost her. Her eyes shone with tears as she glared at him. “Did it ever occur to you that while you were having your fun, pretending not to see me, that I might be growing quite frozen on an incredibly uncomfortable branch?”

  He blinked at her, realizing that no, he had not considered the state of her comfort. “I’m sorry, Harriett. Truly, I am. I did not think…” He shook his head. “Why did you not say something?”

  Her eyes widened as though she could not believe he could be so daft. “Why would I say something? What lady wants to be discovered in a tree, especially by someone who would tease her endlessly about doing something she’d claimed she’d never consider doing? The question is, why didn’t you say something—you, who knew I was there? Instead you lay in wait like a child intent on a prank while my fingers and toes froze and my legs grew numb from sitting in the same position. All because you felt the need to amuse yourself at my expense.”

  “Harriett, I did not mean to—”

  “I know. You never mean to, and yet you always do. It’s as though my thoughts and feelings are nothing more than a continual joke to you.” Tears fell from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “I’m tired of your teasing, Lieutenant, I’m tired of this ruse we’re playing, and I’m tired of not being able to trust you. It all needs to end now. I cannot continue on like this anymore, I cannot.”

  At some point during her speech, Christopher came to the unhappy realization that her ankle was not entirely to blame for her tears. He was. He’d gone too far, and now she was pulling away from him. An awful feeling tore through him like a well-aimed ball in his gut, and he was quick to close the distance between them.

  “Harriett,” he breathed, taking hold of her hands. Even through their gloves he could feel how cold her fingers were. “I don’t understand what I’ve done to hurt you so deeply—Heaven knows it wasn’t intended—but please don’t despise me.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head, shaking it as though she didn’t want to even consider it.

  A fear unlike any he had ever known filled him, and Christopher tightened his hold on her. When she winced and withdrew her hands, shaking them in an attempt to warm them, he knew this conversation would have to wait. He needed to get her to the warmth of the house and off that injured ankle.

  “At least let me give you a ride back to the house.”

  After a moment, she finally nodded. He wasted no time collecting Wicked, who stood perfectly still while Christopher gently lifted Harriett into the saddle.

  “It won’t be as comfortable as a side saddle, but it will keep you off that foot,” he said before taking the reins.

  Under normal circumstances, Wicked would have never countenanced a casual walk through a wide open meadow, but the horse seemed to understand how precious his cargo was because he remained patient the entire way. Upon arrival, Christopher directed Charlie to give the animal an extra helping of oats as he lifted Harriett from the horse and carried her inside. In the great hall, he continued to hold her, despite her protests, as he asked the anxious butler to send for Tabby, and then he carried her up the stairs and to her room, where he deposited her carefully onto the bed.

  “I need to remove your boot to make sure you have not broken anything,” he said, moving to the foot of her bed. When she opened her mouth to protest, he added, “Or would you prefer that I send for the doctor?”

  She closed her mouth and shook her head. “No doctor, please. The pain isn’t nearly as intense anymore.”

  “Good. Then it shouldn’t be too painful to remove your boot. Your ankle will probably swell, and the sooner we free your foot the better.”

  She sighed and nodded. “Very well.”

  Christopher began to loosen the laces, and Tabby rushed in, followed closely by Watts.

  “Sir!” the maid cried in horror. “What are you doin’?”

  “Calm yourself, Tabby,” said Harriett, sounding more like herself. “I injured my ankle this morning, and the lieutenant is only freeing it from my boot to ascertain that it is nothing serious.”

  “Injured your ankle? How?” Tabby gasped. “Sir, perhaps I should be doin’ that.”

  “If you’d like to be of assistance, Tabby, you can stoke the fire. Lady Harriett is chilled to the bone and this room feels drafty.”

  “Of course. Right away, sir.” Tabby rushed to the fireplace as Christopher removed Harriett’s stocking. There was a little swelling around her ankle, but no bruising as of yet, which was a good sign. He gently probed her foot to make sure nothing was out of order. When at last he was satisfied that the injury was a minor one, he stood and faced Watts.

  The butler appeared unusually stern, as he had every right to be. He had undoubtedly noticed Harriett’s rumpled appearance, her torn dress, the wildness of her hair, and her red-rimmed eyes. The scene they had made bursting into the house had not been a pretty one, and it probably didn’t help that Harriett often returned from encounters with Christopher in a similar state.

  But Christopher didn’t care about that now. “Can your housekeeper make a poultice?” he asked.

  “What sort of poultice?”

  “One made with arnica, poppy-heads, and linseed will reduce the swelling.”

  “Very good, sir,” the butler answered tightly. “I will see to it.”

  After he’d gone, Harriett watched Chris with a wariness he did not like at all. “You seem to know a great deal about medicine.”

  Christopher only wished he knew how to heal the damage he’d caused to her insides as well. “I learned a great deal during the war,” was his only explanation.

  “I’m grateful for your knowledge.”

  He swallowed, knowing he had no more excuses to remain. Propriety dictated that he leave her in the capable hands of her maid and the female staff. But oh, how he wanted to send everyone away, pull up a chair, clasp her hand in his, and stay until he convinced her to no longer despise him.

  “Will you be all right?” he asked, referring to more than just her ankle and chilled body.

  She nodded. “Thank you for your assistance, Lieutenant.”

  Lieutenant. The title had once meant a great deal to Christopher. It had forced him to leave his selfish ways behind and take on more responsibility. Over the years, he’d worked hard to earn the respect the title commanded, and by the end of the war, he’d felt as though he’d achieved it. The men under his command had not called him Lieutenant lightly. They had become brothers in arms with Christopher at the helm, and he’d always considered it a title of honor.

  Now, however, he wished it to the devil.

  AFTER A WARM BATH, a change of clothes, and a soothing poultice applied to her ankle, Harriett at last felt well again. Weariness finally took hold of her, and she was just drifting off to sleep when a quiet knock sounded on her door.

  She pried her eyes open and called out, “Enter.”

  Cora slipped inside and smiled. “Tabby told me you were all fixed up and finally ready for visitors. I hope I am not intruding.”

  Anyone else and Harriett might have told them to go away, but not Cora. Never Cora. Harriett propped herself up, careful no
t to disturb the poultice, and patted the bed next to her. “It’s about time you came to check on me. I was beginning to think you did not care.”

  Cora plopped down and tucked her legs beneath her. “I would have come sooner, but I wasn’t allowed. Tabby can be quite forceful when she wishes to be. I was told that she had everything under control and my presence would only get in her way.”

  Harriett laughed, picturing her maid saying those very words. “Well, she was right. Between her and your competent housekeeper, I have never been more pampered in my life.”

  “Sally is a wonder,” agreed Cora. “But I must know what happened to you. All Christopher would say was that you twisted your ankle on the far side of the meadow and needed Wicked’s assistance to bring you home. I cannot imagine he would fib about such things, but I still find it difficult to believe. What were you doing out at such an early hour, and on your own, no less?”

  Harriett had tried her best not to think about Christopher because it made her feel so befuddled and uncertain. How strange this morning had been. One moment, he had behaved thoughtlessly and she’d been convinced that he could never truly care for her, and the next he transformed into a concerned gentleman. He’d even instructed Watts about a certain poultice that would sooth her ache away. And it had, most beautifully.

  Cora was watching her curiously, still waiting for an answer. What had she asked again? Oh, yes. She wished to know what had taken Harriett across the meadow at such an early hour. Goodness. How ludicrous this was going to sound.

  Harriett could only turn her palms up and shrug. “I wanted to climb a tree.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Harriett’s thoughts exactly, but there was no undoing her irrational behavior now. She nodded in the direction of the window. “That large oak on the far side of the meadow. It looks so climbable, don’t you agree? I awoke to that view and experienced a deep desire to see what the world would look like from the top.”

  Cora’s forehead crinkled. She opened her mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, and closed it. After a moment or two of silence, she said, “I see.”

  Harriett snickered. “Do you? Because I don’t. I can honestly say that I have no idea what possessed me to do such a bird-witted and childish thing—other than a sleepless night, that is.”

  Cora smiled and looked down at her hands, smoothing her fingers across the silky bedding. “I did notice that you and Christopher were behaving a little odd at dinner last evening. Has something happened between you?”

  Something had most definitely happened, thought Harriett. She had yet to tell her friend about the kiss because it had felt too intimate. But now, as Harriett questioned every word Chris spoke, every expression he made, and every action he undertook, her mind felt ready to burst from all the questions and uncertainty. She so badly wanted to let it all out, and if she could trust anyone, it was Cora.

  “Yesterday morning,” Harriett said, “after you left for the ruins, Chris led me to a spot beneath that large oak tree and kissed me. That is the reason I behaved oddly at dinner, the reason I could not sleep last night, and the reason I thought escaping into that tree this morning would somehow unburden me. But it only served to worsen the situation. He came upon me there and behaved in a boorish manner. In my frustration and inner turmoil, I leapt down from a higher branch and twisted my ankle before unleashing my fury on him. But then he was so kind and considerate and…” Harriett covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know how to feel or what to think. He makes me so…” There was no one word to describe how she felt because it constantly changed. She was a mess—out of sorts one moment and weak at the knees the next.

  Cora poked Harriett’s arm with her finger and smiled. “I do believe Lady Harriett Cavendish has finally fallen in love.”

  Harriett’s jaw fell open in shock. That was not at all what she’d expected—or wanted—to hear. “In love? With the lieutenant? Are you daft?”

  “It would explain a great deal.”

  “No.” Harriett shook her head vehemently. “Perhaps if he had always treated me in a thoughtful manner, but he does not. He prefers to taunt and tease and drive me mad. Do you know what he said after he kissed me? ‘What, no slap?’ There were no words of tenderness or warmth in his gaze. It had all been a lark to him. And this morning? He knew I was in that tree but pretended as though he did not see me, thinking it would be great fun to ferret me out while I grew colder and more miserable by the second. How, I ask you, could I ever be in love with such a man?”

  Realizing she was working herself into a dither, Harriett forced her mouth to close. So much for drifting off into a peaceful slumber. But honestly, love? Surely not. She might care for the lieutenant in some aspects, but that was all. She would be an utter fool to fall in love with him.

  Her stomach lurched as the toast and tea she had eaten earlier threatened to revolt. Could her friend not see the negative effect Chris had on her? Love, indeed.

  Cora slowly traced one of the floral designs on the bedding, appearing perfectly composed. “Jonathan often teases me, you know, and I rather like it. It makes me feel as though he finds my oddities endearing.”

  “Yes, but he is also tender and sweet with you. I see the warmth and affection in his eyes when he looks upon you and the way he finds any excuse to touch or be near you. That man adores you, Cora, and is it so wrong for me to want the same? How could I ever love a man who does not love me in return?”

  Cora pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. After a moment or two, she said, “Christopher is not Jonathan, you know. He is his own person and will show affection in his own way. And perhaps he’s wondering the same about you. Have you given him any indication about the extent of your feelings? Are you ever tender and sweet with him? Do you gaze upon him with warmth and affection? Do you find excuses to touch or be near him?”

  Harriett opened her mouth to respond, only to close it and frown, realizing that she had not given the lieutenant much of anything in that quarter. Perhaps if she had… no, how could Cora even suggest such a thing? “It is not a woman’s place to pursue a man, Cora.”

  “No, but a man does need encouragement every now and again. I’m willing to wager that Christopher’s heart is every bit as vulnerable as yours.”

  Chris’s heart? Vulnerable? Harriett could not fathom how that could be. He was so arrogant and self-assured. But then she remembered the fear she had spotted in his eyes following her outburst. Her angry words had subdued him, and from that point forward, he had seemed most regretful for his actions, not to mention genuinely concerned for her well being.

  Did Chris care for her? Was he waiting for some sort of encouragement? Could she give it to him without knowing how he truly felt about her?

  Harriett swallowed and pressed her hand into her still-queasy stomach. She remembered the first time she had taken a fall from a horse. Her body had ached for days, and she’d told her nursemaid she would never ride again. But one afternoon, as she walked past the stables, there was her father, leading out that same horse who had thrown her days earlier.

  “Will you ride today?” he’d asked.

  She’d shaken her head and quickened her steps, intent on getting away from the animal as soon as possible, but her father’s words had stopped her.

  “To have courage does not mean you won’t feel fear. It means you are willing to face your fear.”

  Harriett had paused to look at him, thinking over his words.

  “I’m going to ask again. Will you ride today, my pet?” he repeated.

  Oh, how Harriett missed her father and his wise counsel. If he were here now, would he encourage her to be brave or would he think the lieutenant unworthy of her and tell her to stay away?

  Somehow, Harriett knew her father would have liked Chris a great deal, just as everyone else did.

  “You look tired,” said Cora. “I should let you get some rest. With any luck, your ankle will mend and you will feel up to coming do
wn to dinner later. The Biddings will be here, and we’ll need you to round out our numbers.”

  Harriett did not know how she could ever face the lieutenant again, at least not before she had set some things straight in her mind, but she couldn’t let her friend down. So she nodded. “Hurt ankle or not, I will be there.”

  Cora gave her hand a squeeze. “Not to worry. Everything will come out all right in the end.”

  “How do you know?” Harriett asked.

  “Because it always does.”

  At some point during the afternoon, Tabby must have removed the poultice from Harriett’s ankle. When she awoke, it was gone, as was the worst of the swelling. She cautiously put her foot on the floor and stood, testing it out. Much to her surprise, her ankle barely hurt. In fact, it felt almost as well as it had felt before she had twisted it.

  She smiled, thinking of it as a sign of good things to come, and with that mild change of heart came hope. It was a lovely, invigorating feeling made brighter by the sun beaming through the windows.

  When Tabby bustled into the room moments later, Harriett extended a cheery hello.

  Tabby appeared pleasantly surprised. “You’re lookin’ a sight better, milady. Is your ankle on the mend?”

  “Yes, though I can scarce believe it. Please convey my thanks to Sally for mixing up that poultice. It has worked miracles.”

  “Best be thankin’ Lieutenant Jamison as well,” said Tabby as she strode to the wardrobe. “’Twas his idea, after all.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that, Tabby.” Sometimes Harriett wondered if her maid forgot that she was the servant and Harriett the mistress. Tabby could be a little high-handed at times, not that Harriett minded overly much. She’d rather have a forthright maid than a timid one.

  Harriett glanced at the clock across the room and stiffened. Was it truly almost half past five already? Goodness, she had slept late. No wonder Tabby was rifling through her wardrobe with swift movements. They would need to hurry if Harriett was to be ready for dinner in time.