“Are you quite well?” Jeremy asked suddenly, “it was only yesterday you were at death's door. You have gone quite pale.”
Harriet realized that in his concern, he had taken her arm, holding her gently by her elbow. Her dress left her arms bare, and he did not wear gloves. The feel of his skin against hers sent warm ripples coursing through her.
How can a single touch do this to a person? It is not fair. I do not have any discernible effect on him, and yet his merest touch reduces me to knee trembling...
“I—I am well,” she blurted. “Merely thinking of the carriage yesterday. It gives me chills to think on.”
“Then do not think on it,” he said simply. “It is a rare circumstance, I promise.”
He held her now by both arms, drawing her closer to him. Harriet felt cold, a shiver running through her.
Is that the fear that Mama experienced? In her final moments, as the accident unfolded. The same as I felt yesterday? I thought I was to die.
Emotion surged within her, and she fought to control it. But tears were coming unbidden and unstoppable now. Jeremy held her close to him, putting his arms around her. She clutched him, trembling uncontrollably. His firmness was comforting, his strength undeniable. He was a rock.
I must get control of myself. I do not want to be dependent on him or any man. I want to be free!
“Oh my, do excuse me!” Mrs. Painter exclaimed as she came bustling over, “I don’t mean to interrupt...”
“My fiancé and I had a bad experience yesterday, thanks to a bad road and a faulty carriage. She is still shaken,” Jeremy assured, “do you have a private room where she might recover herself?”
“But of course. There is a dressing room just behind with curtains for privacy while your young lady tries on her gowns,” Mrs. Painter informed. “I shall bring in some of my off-the-peg garments to give you some ideas, and have my girls bring you some hot tea. Nothing like hot tea to settle the nerves.”
Before long, they were sequestered in the dressing room with the door closed and several gowns hanging from pegs on the wall. A tray held a steaming teapot and two cups with a jar of honey. Harriet could not help gaping openly at the dresses.
So lovely! I cannot help but be envious of those women who think nothing of coming somewhere like this and selecting a new gown!
“Are you feeling better?” Jeremy asked solicitously.
“Much,” Harriet smiled back, “I do not know where it came from. I have felt simply wonderful all morning. Until Ralph appeared anyway.”
“Delayed shock, probably brought on by the secondary shock of seeing your brother where you did not expect him,” Jeremy remarked.
He reclined in a seat, his tight breeches showing off the elegant line of his legs. Harriet sat opposite, on the edge of her seat, and tried to keep her eyes away from him. She did not want to be caught staring.
“So, what are we to do for the next two hours?” she asked, her eyes flitting to the dresses again.
They are very fine. Like precious stones. Simply beautiful. I would feel like a princess wearing any of them... That would be so nice.
“I suggest you begin by trying on a dress.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jeremy listened to the soft rustle of a beautiful woman undressing. He wanted to keep his mind clear, and Harriet had a bad habit of clouding it. Knowing that a thin veil of fabric was all that separated him from her half-bared body did not half-help.
Is it coincidence that she knows Eloise, and now so does Simon Winchester? Or that Ralph should just happen to be where he should not be. Ralph, who cannot put aside business for even a moment, is suddenly set on buying his sister a new dress.
He forced his gaze from the curtain, which shifted as Harriet's body moved against it. Still, the image of her swam to the surface of his mind. Stripped to her shift, the fabric clinging to the curves of her body. Curves he knew because he had touched them. Explored them.
What harm would it truly do to indulge in a little adventure? She craves freedom and excitement, and I crave her. A seduction would only make our faux betrothal more believable.One can always tell lovers. Men and women who know each other's bodies...
He stood and inched across the room towards the shifting drapes. Deep carpet muffled his footsteps, but the movement stopped.
“Jeremy?” Harriet mumbled.
Jeremy hovered, more than an arm's length from the curtain.
But can I trust her? Is this part of a plan, to make me seduce her and then expose me as a rake and a scoundrel?
