by Merry Farmer
“I suppose it is,” Bea said, excitement swirling through her. She was the last woman in London who was capable of planning and executing a seduction, but if it was the only way to prompt Harrison into making a declaration he should have made months ago, she would do it.
Chapter 3
By that evening, Bea was convinced that her plan was a terrible idea.
She paced the front parlor, dressed in her most gossamer, low-cut gown of pale green in a shade that complimented her unique hair color, wringing her hands. The house was empty, but for Cook and one of the footmen. After her father and younger sister had left for their supper engagement, Bea had given the rest of the upstairs staff the night off, though whether she had the authority to do that, she wasn’t sure. The remaining footman had set the dining room table for two, a clever spark in his eyes that said he knew precisely what Bea was up to but wasn’t going to tell a soul, and retreated back to the butler’s pantry to wait until he was needed.
The clock on the mantle in the parlor ticked away, seeming as loud as a cannon with no other sound in the house and nothing to distract Bea. It was half seven. The note she’d sent to Harrison, begging him to come quickly as she needed his assistance with a delicate matter, had been sent at five o’clock. He should have been there by now. Even if the lad who had been dispatched with the letter had had a difficult time locating Harrison, he should have arrived. Perhaps she was wrong after all and Harrison didn’t care for her the way she—
The grand doorbell that her father had insisted on installing several years ago gonged loudly, and Bea’s heart leapt in her chest. She started toward the front hall, paused as she neared a mirror and veered off to the side to check her reflection, patted her hair, pinched her cheeks to give them color—not that she needed any more than anxiety had already given her—and skittered to the large front door to open it.
Harrison stood on the other side, his brow knit in concern, the clothes he’d worn that morning at the hall in Clerkenwell looking slightly rumpled and worse for wear. He had his hand raised to knock on the door, but at the first sight of Bea, his expression flashed to surprise and he lowered his hand. A moment later, the shock in his eyes was replaced by warmth.
“Bea.” He spoke her name as if it were a benediction. His gaze raked her from head to toe, and his smile widened. “You look lovely.” One blink, and he was back to being confused and concerned again. “Heavens, Bea. Why are you answering the door and not Pettigrew? Is everything all right?”
He stepped through the door into the hall, and Bea moved to shut the door behind him. Her heart thundered against her ribs, and her mind was scattered with contradictory thoughts. She was so bold and daring to invite Harrison over for a seduction. She was a ninny for thinking she could pull it off. He must think her a colossal fool. He thought she looked lovely.
“Papa and Evelyn are out,” she said, hovering near the door, not certain how to proceed. “I…I found myself all alone for supper, and….” She bit her lip, scrambling for a viable excuse for sending a note with the urgency of the one she’d sent. “And I thought I heard a strange noise in the house.”
“What kind of a noise?” Harrison’s back went straight and his expression grew protective. He looked every bit the knight she would have loved to have rescue her if there truly had been an emergency. “And where are the servants?”
“They have the night off,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her and trying not to be too obvious in her lies. Though that wasn’t truly a lie.
“On a Wednesday?” Harrison blinked. A moment later, his bafflement melted into a smile. That smile was amused at first, but quickly began to heat. “And you’re all alone at home?”
Part of Bea wanted to thank her lucky stars that Harrison had caught on to her ruse. The rest of her was terrified…because he’d caught on to her ruse.
“Supper is ready, but I have no one to dine with,” she said in a small voice, feeling as though she were moving a piece across a chessboard.
“Well,” Harrison said, removing his hat and placing it on a stand near the door, then unbuttoning his heavy, wool coat. “We wouldn’t want you to have to dine alone when there are strange noises in the house.”
It was all Bea could do not to giggle as she watched Harrison hang his coat, then beckoned for him to follow her into the dining room. He was as handsome in clothes worn from the day and in need of a shave as he was dressed to the nines for a society ball. And he had such an easy way with her, as though the two of them were meant to be alone together always. She only wished she felt the same ease. Unlike some of her friends, Bea had always considered herself a model of virtue and propriety. To upset that applecart now was as startling as it was thrilling.
“What took you so long to arrive?” she asked, instantly wanting to kick herself for sounding rude, as Harrison held her chair for her at the dining room table.
The smooth, almost conspiratorial look Harrison wore shuttered. “I…er…that is to say….” He cleared his throat and took the seat diagonally from her at the table—a seat that was usually reserved for her father. As soon as he’d pulled his chair into the table, Evan, the footman, stepped out of the butler’s pantry to serve them wine. “I was delayed at one of the orphanages,” Harrison finished his answer.
Bea blinked. “One of the orphanages?”
“Yes.” Harrison seemed extraordinarily cagey about the fact. He nodded his thanks to Evan as his wine was poured, then took a long draught once Evan stepped away. Bea itched with curiosity to know why something so simple and ordinary as volunteering at an orphanage—which they’d all been doing in advance of Bianca’s party on Christmas Eve—would cause him such discomfort.
Harrison was slow to answer, so Bea asked, “Which one?” simply to keep the conversation going. The evening was not turning into the seduction that she thought it would.
“Hope Orphanage,” Harrison answered. “It’s in Hackney.” He offered nothing else.
“I assume they are one of the establishments Bianca has invited to the party?” Bea fidgeted with one of the spoons at her place, desperate to swing the conversation back to something even remotely conducive to ending the evening with Harrison in her bed and a proposal between them.
“They are,” Harrison said. He cleared his throat and took another gulp of wine, glancing around the otherwise empty room. “John and I had, er, particular business there,” he went on.
“Oh. John.” Bea grinned, imagining what Diana would say about that. “He is a rascal,” she said, some of the tension leaving her shoulders as Evan came around with the soup course. “I suppose the two of you were up to something sneaky?”
“Sneaky?” Harrison laughed a little too suddenly and a little too loud. “Why would you say that? A gentleman is never sneaky.”
“No?” Bea’s smile grew. Harrison was uncomfortable for some reason. It was a rather delightful feeling to know that she had him on the back foot. It gave her a sense of power, a sense that she could take the evening in any direction she wanted.
The conversation halted until Evan had served the soup and moved back to a concealed position. Bea consumed a few spoonfuls of her soup before launching into things again.
“Your mission at Hope Orphanage must have been vital indeed to keep you and John away from your club for an afternoon,” she said.
Harrison’s face splashed with red, and he grinned at her. “Believe me, my dear. When the time comes, I will reveal all. Needless to say, what John and I were doing at Hope Orphanage is of vital importance.” A moment later, his brow furrowed. “Though I didn’t find was I was looking for.”
“No?” Bea asked.
“Not yet.” His smile returned. “But rest assured, I will find it eventually.”
“And what were you looking for?” she asked.
Again, Harrison’s expression snapped to wariness, and he didn’t seem to be able to meet her eyes. “It was, um, nothing of great importance.” As soon as he finished, he prac
tically dove into his soup and ended the conversation.
His behavior puzzled Bea to the point of driving her to distraction. But being perplexed over Harrison’s odd behavior wasn’t what the evening was supposed to be about. She needed to find a way to steer his thoughts toward more forbidden topics. Not that she had the first idea how to do that.
“I’m so pleased that Bianca invited us all to help with her orphan cause,” she tried. “I’ve been so impressed with the work she’s done since marrying Jack Craig. Marriage seems to agree with all of our friends, don’t you think?” She finished her question by lifting a last spoonful of soup to her lips and gazing at Harrison with doe eyes.
She was certainly not an accomplished flirt, but the look seemed to do the trick. Harrison nearly dropped his spoon as he raised it to his lips. Instead of finishing his soup, he set his spoon aside and gazed longingly at Bea.
“You truly do look lovely this evening,” he said, heat in his eyes. “When I first saw you at the door, I thought I was seeing an angel.”
“I’m hardly that,” Bea said, her insides fluttering. She lowered her eyes enough to be able to send him what she hoped was a sensual look and leaned slightly toward him.
Evan chose that moment to reenter the room so that he could take their soup bowls away. Bea snapped straight, inwardly telling herself to behave. Though Bianca’s voice in her mind instantly told her that behaving herself was precisely what she shouldn’t be doing that evening. She and Harrison sat in stiff silence until Evan brought out the main course—blessedly already arranged on their plates in the style of a restaurant—then retreated to the shadows once again.
“I am very much looking forward to Christmas Eve,” Bea started up the conversation again as both she and Harrison sliced into their roast. “I’ve been looking forward to the magical moment for a long time.”
Harrison nearly choked on the bite he’d just taken. “How…how did you know?”
Bea was so startled by his reaction that she nearly swallowed her own bite wrong. “Know?”
“About…about Christmas Eve,” Harrison said, fidgeting with his fork.
“It happens every year at roughly the same time,” Bea said with a burst of humor. “And the May Flowers have been planning the benefit for Bianca’s cause for over a month now. Well, half of the May Flowers. We won’t talk about Lady Claudia’s cabal.”
“Oh.” Harrison let out a breath of relief that had Bea more confused than ever. “The orphan event. Of course.”
“What did you think I meant?” Bea asked, wondering what had gotten into Harrison. But, of course, it was obvious. She’d ambushed him with supper and seduction. He must have sensed that they were about to cross the Rubicon into a whole different level of their friendship.
“I…I assumed you meant the orphan event, of course,” he said, sawing his roast as though it had offended him, though Bea suspected that was merely a way for him not to have to meet her eyes.
The whole evening was taking a turn for the decidedly strange. She had to focus and bring things back around to where she wanted them. Proposal. That was her aim. Spending the rest of her days with Harrison as his wife. Getting there by using her feminine wiles. Though, if she were honest with herself, she wasn’t sure how many feminine wiles she actually possessed.
“Harrison, there is something I have wanted to say to you for so very long now,” she said, forcing herself to be bold.
“Yes?” He leaned toward her, expectation and affection in his eyes.
Bea took a breath, steeling her courage. “I do so love—” she gulped, losing her nerve at the very last moment. “Christmas,” she finished with a croak, feeling her face heat. “I do so love Christmas.”
“So do I,” he said, his smile widening. “It’s been one of my favorite holidays since I was a boy.” He paused, then reached across the corner of the table to take her hand. Bea’s pulse sped up to the point of making her feel dizzy. “Christmas is the perfect time of year for…for declarations of a…a particular sort.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed breathlessly. It was coming. She could feel it. The proposal she’d longed for was just on the other side of Harrison’s lips.
“Bea,” he said, gazing earnestly into her eyes. “I was wondering if you would—”
Evan stepped around the screen shielding the butler’s pantry and came forward to refill their wine glasses. Immediately, Bea snapped straight, lowering her head guiltily and focusing on cutting her potatoes.
Harrison shifted back to his place as well. “This roast is delicious,” he told Evan as the young man topped off his wine glass. “Please give my compliments to the cook.”
“Yes, my lord,” Evan said, then headed back to the butler’s pantry.
For the briefest of moments, Bea thought that perhaps she could hear the soft giggling of one or more of the maids. She put the possibility out of her mind, though, unable to contemplate that on top of everything else.
“I was thinking of wearing this gown to the party on Christmas Eve,” she said, though she’d been thinking no such thing. She didn’t think she could bear the silence that Evan’s interruption had brought with it, though.
“It’s a simply divine gown,” Harrison said, studying her with an increasingly amorous grin. “But I’m not certain it’s appropriate for a party in Clerkenwell.”
“No?” Bea took the opportunity to shift her chair back and stand. She stepped away from the table and executed a quick turn that flared the soft fabric of her skirt. “I thought it was perfect for a Christmas party.”
“It is,” Harrison said, standing as well. “But one in Mayfair, not Clerkenwell.” He took half a step closer to her, studying her.
Bea felt her moment to act. “You don’t think it’s too revealing?” she asked, brushing her hand along the low neckline.
“I—” Harrison started, but seemed to lose his train of thought. “I think it suits you beautifully,” he said, his voice hoarse.
The tension in the air between them was almost unbearable, but in the most delicious of ways. Bea knew she had to act. If she was going to live up to the example her friends had set for her and grab onto her happiness with both hands, she had to be bolder than she’d ever been before. She was ready. She could do it. She would dive into the breach with—
Before she could finish talking herself into action, Harrison stepped into her, resting his hands on her waist. He leaned in, slanting his mouth over hers and drinking in a kiss that had her head spinning and her heart racing. His lips tasted of wine and herbs, which encouraged her all the more to open to him and let him slide his tongue along hers. She’d never been kissed at all before and was delighted to discover there was more to it than simply lips bussing lips.
She made a noise deep in her throat and slid her arms over Harrison’s shoulders, losing her fingers in his hair. She’d never touched his hair before and was thrilled to discover how soft it was. It was a delicious contrast to the firmness of his chest against hers and the strength in his arms as he pulled her closer and deepened his kiss. If this was seduction, she couldn’t get enough of it, whether he started it or her. All she wanted to do was lose herself in Harrison’s kiss, and he seemed more than happy oblige.
“My darling,” he murmured against her lips, teasing her cheek and the top of her neck with feather-light kisses. “You know I adore you. I love—”
“What on earth is the meaning of this?”
Her father’s booming voice from the doorway to the dining room had Bea feeling as though she’d been struck by lightning. She yelped and jumped away from Harrison, nearly toppling over as she did.
“Papa,” she gasped once she had her footing. “You’re home.” Her face burned so hot with guilt at being caught in an embrace with Harrison that she rivaled the fire crackling in the fireplace.
“Your sister felt unwell,” her father said, sauntering deeper into the room. His expression was as grave and ferocious as a lion, but if Bea wasn’t mistaken, the
re was a measure of humor in his eyes. “Landsbury.” He nodded to Harrison, the single word spoken as a pure challenge.
“My lord,” Harrison gulped. He cleared his throat and stood as straight as he could, tugging at the hem of his coat and doing everything in his power to look like the marquess he was. “Let me explain.”
“There is no need to explain,” Bea’s father said in an ominous voice. “When the cat is away for the evening, the mice play. Is that not right, my dear?” he asked Bea.
“I…I invited Harrison for supper because…because I did not want to eat alone,” Bea fumbled, knowing there was no chance her father would believe her. “He was…we were…I was choking on a piece of roast.” The lie fell clumsily from her lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth once it was out.
The corner of her father’s mouth twitched. He sent a pointed glance to Harrison. “You’ve saved my daughter’s life this evening, then?”
Bea had the distinct impression her father was teasing them, but Harrison answered. “It would appear so.”
Her father hummed. “I see. Well, then, young man. I expect to see you in my office at your earliest possible convenience so that we can discuss a reward for you saving my dear Beatrice’s life.”
“Understood, my lord,” Harrison said with a sharp bow, looking more embarrassed than proud of his deeds. He flinched, then said, “I have a matter of great importance that I need to see to on the morrow, though.”
“Oh?” Bea’s father arched one eyebrow at him.
“Yes,” Harrison went on. “It is a matter that requires swift action before…before something is lost permanently. By your leave, may I come speak to you once the item I’ve been searching for is recovered?”
Bea’s father stared at him for a moment, then sighed and said, “As long as you don’t change your mind.”
“Never, sir,” Harrison said, sending Bea a sideways look. He cleared his throat. “Now, if you will excuse me, I’m afraid I’ve overstayed my welcome this evening.”