A Midsummer Bride

by Amanda Forester

  He drew closer to her; he could not help himself. He managed to keep his arms at his sides, but he leaned too close. She stepped even closer and put her hands upon his chest. Her green eyes revealed confusion—and something else. It was a heady, smoldering look, one he had never seen in any woman’s eye. And this was for him.

  He leaned forward and kissed one soft cheek then the other, lingering too long. Alarm bells finally decided to ring.

  He backed up, away from temptation. “I hope ye shall have a verra nice day.” He spoke softly, hoping his plain words could convey all he could not say.

  Her lips parted, and he had to force himself not to step forward and claim them for his own. He must get away. Without another word, he bowed and ran down the steps, away from temptation, away from that fey creature, away from his Harriet.

  Seventeen

  “Thornton!”

  Thornton turned and paused while Marchford strode up to him in the hallway where all of the men were staying.

  “I’ve got a favor to ask of you, old friend.”

  “Oh no. I know when ye evoke the length of our friendship ye truly have an onerous task before me,” said Thornton.

  “I am having another meeting this morning, one that I wish to occur without disruption.”

  Memories of Miss Redgrave standing on a chair flooded Thornton’s mind. “I believe Miss Redgrave has taken ill.”

  Marchford raised an eyebrow. “I believe my grandmother circulated that rumor to explain her peculiar behavior yesterday. I have no confidence such trivial considerations as her reputation would convince Miss Redgrave to stay away from my proceedings.”

  “What would you have me do? Block the door?”

  “Distract her. Ask her to go for a walk or a ride. Take her to the library. Show her the castle. I don’t know, just keep her out of sight of the rest of the guests.”

  Mixed emotions flooded through Thornton. On one hand there was nothing he wanted more than to spend more time alone with Harriet. On the other hand, his desire made Harriet the one person from whom he should stay away. “I shall do my best, old friend. But please do remember that charming women was always Grant’s job, not mine.”

  “Time to take on a new hobby and learn to entertain ladies.”

  “She does not appear to be easily distracted from her object,” said Thornton.

  Marchford shrugged. “Or lock her in her room. Just keep her away from my meeting. It is a matter of critical importance to the Empire.”

  Thornton obligingly took up residence outside the door. He was determined to keep Harriet away from the meeting, but also himself away from her. It would not do at all to draw too near her. Such familiarity may make a lady expect a declaration, and proposing marriage was the one thing he could not do.

  As Marchford had predicted, Harriet marched determinedly to the door where the aristocratic military leaders were holding their meetings. She had changed into a sensible muslin frock and twisted her hair into a plain knot. Gone was the fey creature of this morning, yet as she approached, Thornton could see the fire in her eyes.

  “Good morning, Miss Redgrave,” greeted Thornton.

  “Are you now the door guard?” Harriet asked accusingly.

  “Aye. It fits my skill and talents to stand here and do and say nothing.”

  “Self-deprecating humor will hardly raise my opinion of you.”

  “Then ye will only give me more reason to doubt myself.”

  “You are difficult when you don’t fight back,” Harriet accused. “I am accustomed to sparring with my brothers. I do not know what to do with easy victory.”

  “Alas! I had no siblings. I do not know how to play this game.”

  “Never? Did you never have siblings?”

  “Nay. My parents were not the best of friends. Once an heir was produced, they felt no further need to spend a moment in each other’s company.” It was diplomatically stated. In truth, his parents loathed each other.

  Harriet blinked at him and was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. “My parents are forever in each other’s company, always laughing, always by each other’s side. I could not imagine growing up without them or my big, boisterous brothers. How quiet your home must have been.” It was as if she was trying to find something kind to say.

  “Aye. Like a crypt.”

  “I am sorry. But perhaps there can be benefits to being quiet. There is no one to steal your things or break your toys. No one to interrupt you when you are talking and snitch on you whenever you even think of doing something naughty. No one to make you laugh at the dinner table until your drink comes out your nose and you are sent to eat in the nursery for behavior unbecoming a lady.”

  Thornton tried to resist a smile but failed. “Sounds terrible having so many siblings.”

  “Truly awful.” But she smiled when she said it. “My brothers are a pain in my backside. And oh, how I miss them. I just hope they have gotten the letter that I am all right. They must be terribly worried about me.”

  “I have a second cousin. I doubt he would be concerned for my welfare though, since the last time I saw him he informed me that if I was to die, he would inherit.”

  “How dreadful!”

  “He was only eight at the time.”

  “A poor excuse.”

  “I have always thought so.”

  They stood in the hall, at a loss what to say next. The rumbling sound of men’s voices could be heard from the room behind the door.

  “So am I to wrestle you out of the way?” asked Harriet.

  A horrible impulse to tell her to try her best swept over him. Somehow the unconventional Miss Harriet brought out impulses he did not even know he had. “I fear I might enjoy that,” he said with too much candor. “But I wondered if I could show ye something first.”

  “I will not be dissuaded.” She raised her chin.

  “Have you heard of Monsieur Lavoisier?”

  “Antoine Lavoisier? Of course! He is a giant in the field of chemistry.” Harriet gave him her full attention.

  “Then ye have read his work The Elementary Treatise of Chemistry?”

  “I have heard of it. It is truly remarkable by all accounts.”

  “Were ye aware that it was translated by a Scotsman, Robert Kerr?”

  “A Scotsman? No, I was not.”

  “I do like to support a fellow Scot when I can.”

  Much to his surprise, Harriet grabbed his sleeve. “Do you have a copy? Do you?”

  “Aye, ’tis in the library—”

  Harriet did not wait for him to finish but grabbed his hand and ran down the hall to the library. It was dark in the room, but she flung open the curtains and opened a window to let in the sunlight and the cool breeze. “Where? Where is it?”

  Thornton went to a top shelf and pulled down the large volume, placing it on the table.

  “Oh!” She tried not to squeal and jump up and down but failed.

  “I had no idea ye would be quite so pleased.” He was mesmerized at her reaction, so raw, so honest.

  “I had no idea you had this book or I would have been living in this room.”

  “I shall not force ye to remain a prisoner. Take the book back to yer room and read it at yer leisure.”

  “Thank you. Thank you!”

  Harriet opened the book with a loving touch and Thornton found he could not look away from her. He was a fair man, and he recognized there would be few who would consider her a great beauty, yet when her eyes gleamed with true pleasure, she was the most lovely creature he had ever beheld. It made him want to do more to see such raw joy.

  “You were sent to get rid of me. Were you not?” Harriet sat down at the table without looking up from the book.

  “Aye. Do ye mind?”

  “No. I understand they do not wish me to interrupt. I do appreciate your honesty.”

  Thornton sat down across from her. “I shall always be honest with ye.”

  “Will you? If you would, it would be novel
at least.”

  “People are no’ truthful with ye?”

  “People say one thing to my face and another behind my back. Sometimes they do not always make sure I’m out of earshot.” Harriet trailed her finger down the page of the book like a caress. The thoughts it inspired in Thornton made him shift in his chair.

  “Society can be cruel without cause.”

  Harriet looked up. “I fear I do give them cause. I interrupt meetings with generals and read books on chemistry. If that is not cause for being labeled as odd, I cannot think of what would be.”

  Thornton smiled. “Remember, we are loved for our uniqueness.”

  “Perhaps some are more unique than others,” muttered Harriet.

  “Did not Paul say in first Corinthians 12 that we are all made different but parts of the same body? ‘But now God has set the members, each one of them, in the body, just as He pleased.’”

  “I cannot imagine what part of the body I would be. Something unattractive, without purpose.”

  “Ye be too harsh on yerself. Besides, in Romans 12 Paul writes, ‘Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us, let us use them.’”

  Harriet rolled her eyes. “I do not see chemistry being considered one of the spiritual gifts. At least no one in society would think so.”

  “Is this something ye aspire to? Would ye like to be prominent in society?”

  “Oh no. I’d rather read my books and do experiments. But I would like the gossip to stop. I cannot imagine so much interest over my dowry.” Harriet returned to her book.

  “Get married,” said Thornton bluntly.

  “I beg your pardon?” Harriet looked up at him with wide eyes.

  “The gossip seems focused on yer potential marital partner. If ye wed, there would be naught left to talk about. Or at least,” he amended because he did promise to be honest, “there would be less.”

  She cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. “Are you working now for the duchess and Penelope? Or perhaps my grandfather? They are all trying to get me to wed as soon as may be. Apparently, a wedding will make me more acceptable.”

  Thornton shook him head. “I am merely stating the facts, not recommending the institution. I have no personal experience, nor am I likely to, so I cannot recommend it one way or the other. Have ye ever thought o’ matrimony?” He was edging around a dangerous topic.

  “I suppose, but it does not seem likely. Besides, I have the benefit of having enough resources to meet my needs. If I wed, whatever income I enjoy would go directly to my husband—advantageous for him, not as great for me.”

  “Not if ye had my mother’s solicitor,” muttered Thornton. His mother retained control of most of her dowry, thanks to some careful negotiations in the marriage agreements.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “What ye need is not to avoid marriage, but to get yerself a good attorney.”

  “I suppose so. It is not as if any credible offers have come my way, so it is a moot point. My father would never accept anyone he thought was a fortune hunter, nor would I.”

  “Nor should ye. But perhaps ye could find a man with a love for chemistry.” On this count he felt safe. He knew no one who dabbled in chemistry.

  Harriet’s eyes gleamed with that same internal fire. “That would be a dream. Did you know that Lavoisier’s wife was instrumental in his work?”

  “I was not aware.”

  “She made sketches of his work and kept meticulous records. I would love to marry a scientist.”

  For some reason, Thornton was not pleased with the idea. “Or perhaps ye could share yer passion with a gentleman and win over his interest.”

  Harriet disappointed him by shaking her head. “No, it cannot be done. I’ve never met a man interested in chemistry unless he came that way from the start.”

  “There you are!” Miss Rose entered the room, her hands on her hips. “You were very adroit at sneaking away.”

  “Have you been looking for me?” asked Harriet, her attempt to look innocent marred by a guilty grin.

  “Yes. I see you have found a book—”

  “Elementary Treatise of Chemistry by Lavoisier!” exclaimed Harriet.

  “Yes, yes, very nice,” placated Miss Rose. “But Her Grace and I are trying to restore your reputation, which will not be improved by spending time alone with a man.” She looked accusingly at Thornton.

  “I confess I am guilty of the charges before me,” conceded Thornton. “I shall leave the field in shame. Good day to ye both.”

  “Thank you, Lord Duncan!” Harriet’s voice was warm.

  Though she mangled his title, he liked it from her lips. “If I have pleased ye, I am happy, though I ken not how I did so.”

  “The book!” Harriet hefted the large volume as if it was obvious, which in retrospect he supposed it was.

  Thornton bowed and quit the library. Miss Rose was right; he should be more circumspect with respect to Miss Redgrave. He should not be alone with her or any female save his own mother, and the less of that the better. He would not wish to encourage hopes of matrimony, which could not be. Of course, it appeared she had no interest in him in that regard, which was good.

  Thornton sighed and his shoulders sagged. Very good indeed.

  Eighteen

  It was going to be a long evening without Miss Redgrave to liven up the atmosphere. It was strange how after spending time with her, everyone else seemed false, pretentious, and dull. Thornton would have attempted to avoid the evening, but his mother had decided he had not been present enough for his duties as host, which he must admit was most likely true.

  “I want you to be especially attentive to Miss Crawley tonight,” his mother said in a low whisper. She was adorned in jewel tones, a vision of silk and feathers. He supposed he might concede she looked well in it if he was not so busy counting the cost of her regalia.

  “Why Miss Crawley in particular?” he whispered in return, wary of his mother’s interference.

  She smoothed her skirts and got that aloof look in her eye she wore whenever she knew she was in the wrong. “I had some trouble and General Crawley assisted me greatly. We came to an understanding.”

  “This understanding best not have anything to do with his daughter,” warned Thornton.

  “And why should it not,” hissed Lady Thornton. “Priscilla is an exquisitely handsome girl from a well-established family. The only thing they do not have in abundance is a title, and General Crawley is set on having his only daughter a countess. It is just our luck they are willing to settle on you.”

  “I have told ye before, Mother, I will not marry anyone for money, even if I am lucky enough to have them be ‘willing to settle’ on me.”

  “Foolish child!” Lady Thornton spoke louder than she intended and a few heads turned her way as people milled about waiting to be called in to the table. “You are always riding too fast,” she said with a smile until people went back to their own conversations.

  “You should know”—her voiced dropped once again into a harsh whisper—“General Crawley now owns most of my debt. If I cannot pay him back within a fortnight, Thornton Hall will be his.”

  “What?” Thornton had a meeting set with his steward tomorrow to discover the full extent of the difficulties with the estate. He had not thought the need quite so pressing. “Mother how much—”

  “Mrs. Crawley!” exclaimed his mother, walking toward her new friend. “How lovely you look tonight. And your daughter is stunning as always. Does not Miss Crawley look stunning, Duncan?” His mother gave him a look that could blister paint.

  “Aye.” Thornton bowed to the Crawley family. “Verra well indeed,” he said because he was an honest man. Miss Crawley was a lovely sight with black hair, porcelain skin, and a red rose mouth.

  “Capital, capital!” declared General Crawley. “But then who could not think my little Priscilla an angel?”

  Priscilla gave Thornton a coy look, as if to say th
ere was more to this angel than met the eye.

  “They make such a lovely couple,” said Mrs. Crawley in a dreamy voice. “Their children shall all have such beautiful dark hair.”

  “Mama, please, you should not say such things,” said Priscilla with a sweet smile.

  Indeed she should not. Thornton wished to run for the hills. He was a Highlander; he could live out the rest of his days in a cave if need be. One look at the scheming Crawley family told him the need might be.

  “Forgive me, must see to my guests.” Thornton bowed and fled to the other side of the room.

  Mr. Neville fortunately engaged General Crawley and his daughter in conversation, giving Thornton an opportunity to disengage himself. Neville appeared quite animated in the discussion, which was all the better distraction.

  ***

  “I hope you are feeling better tonight.” The dowager duchess swept into Lord Langley’s room with Penelope following behind. Langley and Harriet were playing cards and had been all night. Langley had a little more of his color, but Harriet was looking wan. Anyone seeing her would believe her unwell.

  “Antonia, please forgive me for not standing for you,” said Langley.

  “Do not think of troubling yourself,” said the duchess. “I do hope you are feeling better.”

  “I am on the mend.”

  “I hope I can be on the mend too,” said Harriet.

  “Getting tired of playing piquet with your grandfather?” asked Lord Langley.

  “Oh no, I adore playing for hours,” said Harriet unconvincingly. “At least I enjoy getting to know you better.”

  “Now that Her Grace and Miss Rose have come, we can have a game of whist,” said Langley.

  “That would be lovely,” said Antonia, surprising herself. She generally went to sleep after a long evening, but when Lord Langley called her by her first name, as he had done so many years ago, she felt revived.

  Penelope shot her a glance, one eyebrow raised, but Antonia ignored it. Penelope was young; she could stay awake awhile longer. “I will get some chairs for us,” said Penelope.