Read Damsel in Distress? Online
Authors: Kristina O'Grady
Damsel in Distress? (9 page)
She watched his eyes follow the woman’s hips as she disappeared through the door back into the ball. Harriet thought she detected remnants of longing in his eyes and the stabbing pain in her chest intensified. She turned her head away from him, fixing her eyes on the nothingness in the distance.
“As you probably guessed,” he said, “that was Veronica, my former mistress. She’s crazy, and unfortunately she’s crazy for me. I’m afraid she will do anything to become mine once more. I think the depth of my pockets appeal most to her sensibilities.”
She turned her head to look at him. There was a smile on his face. A smile! How dare he find this amusing.
“She can have you.” She pushed away from the banister and made to brush past him to the house.
“Where are you going?” he asked, grabbing her arm as she tried to slip by.
“Back inside.” She sniffed and tugged on her arm, trying to break free. “We’ve been gone too long.” She would not cry. Not here. Not in front of him.
“Wait.” He pulled her towards him. She stumbled slightly and fell into his frame. Despite what she told her body, her heart quickened with his touch and her breath grew shallow. Her body could remember all too well what it felt like to be in his arms. Even her lips grew heavy with anticipation of his kiss.
She abruptly drew back. She wouldn’t fall under his spell again. “Let me go, Philip,” she whispered.
“I can’t,” he said stepping closer to her once more. His free hand cupped her face and tilted it up to his, his fingers tangling in her freshly fixed hair.
She desperately wanted to fall into his kisses, but the image of him watching his former mistress walk away from him was burned into her eyes.
“No, Philip. Let me go.” She tugged at her captured arm again. When he wouldn’t let go, she pulled harder until she was fighting not only a losing battle with her emotions but with Philip too.
“Harriet, still yourself. I’ll let you go as soon as you stop. I don’t want you to fall.” He was as good as his word and as soon as she stopped struggling he let her arm drop. “Are you all right? What has made you behave like this? Do you remember something new? Harriet, talk to me.”
She was mortified there were tears streaming down her cheeks. She turned her back to him and tried to compose herself. A feat near impossible when she had nothing to wipe her nose with. She sniffed loudly, no longer caring if he heard her.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was harsh and commanding.
“It’s nothing,” she lied. “I just think we need to go back inside.”
Philip sighed deeply and let the matter drop. “Veronica knows we are out here together,” he said, pacing the terrace. “Half the attendants of this ball will know by now too. You were right, we shouldn’t have stayed so long by the hedge…or maybe not long enough, Veronica would never have found us if we had spent a little more time in hiding.” Philip touched her shoulder but she shrugged it off and walked towards the door back into the ball. How dare he mention her name again.
“I can’t find nothing,” Charlie said as soon as Peter sat down.
They were meeting in the back of a busy pub at the end of a not so pleasant street in a not so pleasant area. Harry was already on his third tankard of beer, although it didn’t show any effect on him. The noise around them ensured they wouldn’t be overheard.
“Nothing, eh? There’s got to be something.” Peter thumped the table.
“I’ve looked everywhere. I’ve even put out word with everyone I know.”
“Who do you know?” Peter looked at Charlie, his eyebrow cocked in a mocking expression.
“It’s easy getting to know people when you’re as bad as them. Point is, Pete, ain’t nobody seen our Princess.”
“She couldn’t have just disappeared.”
“Neither could have that dandy with her,” Charlie said. “He was a somebody, you know. With clothes like that, he’s got money, that one. He could be hiding her anywhere.”
“They’ve got to come out of hiding sometime.” Peter raised his glass to his lips and took a large pull of his beer.
“Yah, but before it’s too late?” Charlie asked.
“Don’t you worry, Charlie, it won’t be too late. If she hasn’t delivered the package by now she won’t any time soon. She knows we’ll be watching her target. She’ll be biding her time.” Peter chuckled. “This waiting gives us the opportunity to find out where she’s hiding.” He turned towards Harry who had just drained his fourth tankard. “Did you find anything?”
Harry let out a tremendous belch. “Nope.”
“Did you even bother to look?” Charlie asked incredulously.
Harry leaned forward in his seat, fixing Charlie with his stare. “You got a problem with me?” He didn’t raise his voice above a whisper but it had the same reaction as if he had shouted.
Charlie’s eyes widened and looked at Peter, who ignored him completely. “I was just asking,” he muttered.
Harry grunted and leaned back to a more comfortable position and picked up another full glass of beer the barmaid had deposited on their table.
Veronica entered the ballroom, confident of her physical charms. She sent sidelong glances to the men who interested her and turned her head from the ones who didn’t, effectively giving them the cut direct. It didn’t dissuade them though, they still vied for her attention every chance they got. In fact the ones she cut are the most persistent. But tonight her target is not the men who can provide her with the most pleasure, tonight she is after bigger fish. She makes her way over to the matrons guarding their little ducks by the dance floor. They are too busy keeping their charges from social ruin by dancing with the wrong man and desperately trying to encourage the ever-elusive perfect mate for their daughter. Veronica snorts. La, good luck to them, she thinks to herself. There’s no such thing. The so-called good ones are too boring and too old to provide any excitement for a young bride, let alone any passion. Half of them are too rough for their tender virgin brides and the so-called ‘bad’ ones are all too easily persuaded in another direction. Most of them are only concerned with themselves and what they can receive from any such arrangement.
Veronica knows this all too well from personal experience. She has a sister and a mother to provide for and she can’t afford to lose Lord Eaglestone’s attention. There’s no way in hell she’ll allow her sister to succumb to the life that she has had to take. Her sister is just as much an innocent as these girls here, even more so than most of them.
She is within striking distance of her destination when Philip and his new doxie slip back into the room. She is kind tonight. She won’t tell anyone they were out there in the dark. She had the ability to make their lives a living hell…and she would, but getting them betrothed was not her plan. That wouldn’t help her cause, at least not for a while. She was under no illusion Philip would tire of his new-found love, but in the meantime she still needed to put bread on the table.
Veronica bowed low to the Duchess before her. “Your Grace.”
“Ah, Veronica darling, how nice to see you, dear. Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” The Duchess of Kensington greeted Veronica with a nod of her head.
Veronica kept a close eye on the walking stick in the duchess’s hand. It was known to maim a few toes. “Yes, your grace, I have been in the country with my family these last few weeks. We wanted to take advantage of the fine weather.” The lie rolled off her tongue with practised ease.
“And what of your mother, dear, is she well?” Another thump with her walking stick came closer this time and Veronica took a small step back.
Her mother had been an ill-born prostitute, but the duchess didn’t know that. She needed to keep up the pretence if there was any hope this interview would go well. “She is enjoying the country air still, your grace.” Veronica chanced a step closer. “There is something of great import I must discuss with you, your grace.”
The duchess arched an eyebrow but made no move to accommodate the request.
“It’s regarding your son,” she whispered.
The old duchess drew back in shock, turned away from the group of matrons gathered around and beckoned Veronica to follow her out of the room. She led them down a deserted corridor, her walking stick thumping with every step. She didn’t slow pace until they had entered an empty room and she had turned the key in the door behind her, locking them in.
Veronica looked around as the duchess sank onto a chaise longue, looking weak and frail. The room must be a small parlour, probably Lady Bingham’s personal retreat. The walls were decorated in wild colours and there was a giant mural of strange tall grey buildings across one wall. It looked like a city scene, but not a city that Veronica had ever seen.
She walked closer to the painting while the duchess gathered herself. Upon closer inspection, Veronica could see what must be carriages along the street. People filled the walkways and the bizarre carriages filled the streets, but there wasn’t a horse in sight.
She turned at the unmistakeable thump of the duchess’s walking stick.
“You have news of my son?”
“Yes, your grace, I saw him the other day.”
The duchess drew in a sharp breath at her shock and choked for a moment. “You’ve…s…seen my Rup…Rupert?”
Veronica nodded and explained. “It was while I attended the Hamptons’ ball two weeks ago. He was with two other men and although he tried to keep out of sight, I saw him. He is hard to miss.” Rupert was a tall man and although there were many other men just as large, he gave off a certain presence that ensured he was noticed wherever he went. His multitude of muscles did nothing to help him blend in, either.
“Are you telling me you saw my son two weeks ago and you are just now inclined to inform me?” The duchess drew herself off the chaise longue and stalked menacingly towards Veronica, the thump of her walking stick echoing through the room with each step. Veronica found herself up against the mural on the wall without being aware she had even backed up.
“Your grace,” she stammered quickly, “I had to be sure it was him! I didn’t want to tell you I’d seen him in case it turned out to be someone else. I believe you’ve had enough false leads already.”
The duchess stopped banging her stick within inches of Veronica’s toes. “I suppose you are correct, however I would have preferred to be informed sooner than this.” She turned and retreated back to her seat. “How did he look?” she whispered.
“Dangerous.”
The duchess smiled, “Yes, I’m sure that it’s my Rupert then. He was always one to look a bit on the threatening side.”
Veronica approached cautiously and sat next to her. “Your grace? Would you like me to find him for you? Maybe I can persuade him to come home to you.”
The duchess reached up and touched Veronica’s cheek gently. “Oh my dear girl, he will never come back home to me. There is nothing you can do about that.” A tear escaped the old lady’s overflowing eyes and ran down her wrinkled cheek. “It is enough to know he is alive.” She took a deep breath and blinked her tears back into her eyes. “It is time for you to return to the ballroom, dear. I will follow you in a moment.”
Veronica stood up and walked to the door. Before she closed the door she looked back at the duchess. She was surprised to find the old lady sitting on the chaise, slumped in her internal defeat. Veronica softly closed the door behind her and returned to the party.
Cressandra approached them as soon as they made their way inside the room. “Where have you two been?” she asked. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You’re lucky you have such good friends, Philip. Lord and Lady Bingham have been covering for you since the incident with Mrs Barrett whenever anyone asks where you’ve got to.
“Lady Bingham has told all the ladies you were recovering your dignity in her private parlour, Harriet, with strict instructions you were not to be disturbed until you emerged. But, we both know you weren’t hiding in there. Not alone with Philip, anyway. At least I hope for both your sakes that’s not the case. Oh no, here comes Mrs Barrett. One would think she would have taken herself home with the shambles her dress is in. I suppose she would want to make sure everyone knows though, wouldn’t she? Here Harriet,” she thrust her handkerchief into Harriet’s hand, “Dry your eyes.”
Cressandra paused in her speech long enough to turn to the approaching Mrs Barrett and plaster a full smile onto her face. Harriet had an image of full-beam headlights before the picture was quickly gone from her mind. She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks and blew her nose.
“Mrs Barrett.” Cressandra went as far as to open her arms wide, as though she was going to envelope the old woman in a hug. With one cutting look from Mrs Barrett, Cressandra hastily dropped her arms and took several steps back, hiding behind her brother.
“Thanks for your help,” Philip muttered to her out the corner of his mouth, his lips twitching in amusement.
“I see you’re still here!” Mrs Barrett ignored Philip and spoke straight to Harriet. “And what do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”
Her dress still hung in tatters around her waist and there was a giant rip across her bodice as well. Harriet was unable to take her eyes off the shocking sight of the old lady’s breast trying to escape what remained of the fabric.
“I um, am terribly sorry, ma’am. I’m afraid I stopped quite suddenly and poor Lord Eaglestone crashed into me, which of course made me crash into you. I did try to stop you from falling,” Harriet gestured to the dress, “but we can see what good that was. Please accept my sincere apology.”
“Harrumph.” Mrs Barrett stamped her foot on the floor with ill-concealed contempt. “I don’t believe I will, my dear. No, I don’t believe I will at all. Good day to you.” She turned around and paraded through the crowd without a backward glance. Leaving Harriet to wonder if the old lady’s breast managed to escape its confines on the journey.
“Come, ladies,” Philip said, offering them each an arm, “I believe that’s our cue to take our leave.”
***
It was a quiet ride home. Cressandra fell asleep within moments of the carriage starting off. Harriet was still upset with Philip. She couldn’t understand how he could kiss her so passionately one minute as though she was the most precious thing in the entire world, and the next minute cosy up to his
former
mistress. Okay, she was prepared to admit he wasn’t exactly cosy with her, but the way his eyes followed her when she left had set Harriet’s teeth on edge. What bothered her the most, however, wasn’t the way his eyes roamed but the fact that it bothered her so much.