“She was there, was she not?” Jeremy said casually.
That reaction is all I need. He is as overbearing and protective as ever. A jailer more than a brother. No wonder she was so keen to give in to her passions. She has been kept in a cage all these years.
The image of Harriet swam up in his mind's eye. Emerald eyes brighter than the actual jewel, shining out at him from behind the black raven mask. The falls of silky black hair and the expanse of pure white, delicate skin. The idea of her being imprisoned was unconscionable. Jeremy had to suppress the urge to remonstrate with Ralph.
I must keep a clear head. I wish to pretend she is my betrothed, not actually become involved with her.
“She should not have been. I forbade it as I myself was unable to attend.”
The four fell silent, even Reuben becoming aware of the quiet menace in Ralph's voice.
“I only saw her, I did not speak to her personally,” Jeremy dismissed easily. “I say, this wine is excellent, I must remember to speak to the wine steward about procuring a few cases for theEl Dorado.”
He noticed Ralph's hands tighten on his knees, eyes boring into his temples.
“Oh, did either of you chaps happen to speak to... to... what is her name again?”
“Harriet,” Ralph snapped.
Reuben and Nash both demurred, exchanging looks.
Jeremy simply smiled.
“I had not seen her for years. She does not have your coloring, I note. That fair hair of hers, something inherited from her father, I assume? He was blonde as a Viking, as I recall.”
Ralph's mouth twitched into a smile then. He seemed to relax, and as he did, the atmosphere that had descended upon the table also eased.
“No. Her hair is as black as mine, old boy. We both take after our mother in that respect. You must have mistaken another for her. She did not leave home that night, I can assure you.”
Jeremy raised his palms in mock surrender. “Ah, my mistake. It has been so long since I saw her last, I cannot for the life of me recall what Henrietta looked like.”
Ralph laughed, a booming, full-bellied laugh that was characteristic of him.
“Harriet, Penhaligon. Her name is Harriet. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to insult me. I am not against behaving as Monsieur Dumas had our namesakes behave and demand satisfaction.”
“A duel? How exciting,” Reuben exclaimed, rubbing his hands in wonder, “we have not had a spot of serious fencing for some time.”
“I still bear the scar,” Jeremy muttered, “when friend D'Artagnan here slipped and his blade scraped my ribs.”
He pointed to Ralph, who grinned wickedly.
“Slipped? Yes, I do recall that was the story I settled on.”
Jeremy joined in with the boisterous laughter now, pouring himself and his friends another glass of wine each.
Now I know. Ralph is as restrictive as ever, and Harriet was not at the ball with his permission. First thing tomorrow, I shall ride to Oaksgrove and give her my ultimatum.
A secret for a secret.
Harriet awoke from dreams of being pursued by Eloise de Rouvroy, intent on vengeance for the theft of her lover. She had been running, desperate to reach the safety of Oaksgrove but unable to find her way. Ralph had appeared in the dream atop a horse. She had begged for his help, and he had glared down his nose at her in judgment, turning away as the French lady appeared, eyes murderous.
“You have tainted the Tisdale name. You have dishonored the memory of our parents!” Ralph had scolded. “I tried to protect you from men such as he... I can protect you no longer.”
Harriet had awoken as she had screamed to her brother that she had not intended to dishonor their mother and father. Just to experience something of life. A taste of freedom.
She stared at the ceiling of her bedchamber, chest heaving. Morning light seeped into her room around the edges of the curtains. The dream had left an unpleasant sensation, an anxious tension.
I have done nothing wrong. I attended a ball that Ralph had no right to prevent me from attending. I was mistaken for another and...
