The voices passed by somewhere ahead of them, a dozen feet away perhaps, but thankfully receding. When the voices had faded away entirely, Jeremy moved from his position atop Harriet. She hastily fixed her bodice and patted down her skirts. When she looked at Jeremy, his ardor had not yet fully been quelled. She bit back a smile as he sat up to conceal it.
“There is nothing to laugh about,” Jeremy whispered fiercely.
“It is quite funny. Rather inconvenient, is it not?”
“At times like this, yes. Did you know that Simon Winchester was going to be at this tea?”
“How would I? I don't know the man,” Harriet shrugged.
“He has just appeared in pursuit of me. How could he have known I was going to be at the church of this particular village today? And what does he want? To prove our engagement false, Iimagine, so that his parents refuse to sell me their blasted Opera House.”
He rose and peered above the top of the ferns, but there was no sign of Simon or Eloise. Straightening, he offered Harriet his hand. She refused to take it, standing on her own and brushing stray leaves and grass from her dress.
“Ask him. I do not care,” she said dismissively.
“Because you have been found out?”
“If you accuse me of conspiring against you one more time when I am only here because of your actions, I shall... slap your face,” Harriet snapped, actually stamping her foot.
Jeremy considered the intimacy they had just shared. The passion that had been awakened in both of them. He could not doubt the sincerity of the desire she had evinced.
A skilled courtesan could master such a performance, but Harriet is no courtesan. Her reactions are genuine.
“Duly noted. I will not mention it again. I still need you, and you need me. Agreed?”
She looked at him askance. “No apology?” she asked bluntly.
Jeremy was genuinely confused. “You tripped me. Everything else was, quite frankly, mutual. What should I apologize for?”
Harriet threw up her hands.
“Never mind, Your Grace. Shall we find the vicarage and take our places?
Harriet fumed until they emerged from the woods at a gate. Beyond was a gently sloping lawn, kept short by a couple of contentedly munching goats who paid them no mind at all as they stepped through the gate. She forced a smile, looking up at the modest brick house above the lawn and the group that sat before the house.
She reached for Jeremy's arm, and he offered it graciously.
After everything I give, he still insinuates that I am in league with his enemies. I should like to shake him! The man is infuriating. I must be strong from this point on. Do not give in to my desire and simply make the best out of this arrangement.
They walked up the lawn, seeing Edmund Hamilton standing at a carved wooden table. Harriet recognized Eloise de Rouvroy and Simon Winchester—both looked somewhat surprised to see Harriet and Jeremy.
“We were about to send out a search party. Couldn't think where you could have got to,” Edmund called out.
“The path was somewhat overgrown. We lost our way,” Jeremy grimaced.
“Did you perhaps crawl through the woods?” Eloise asked archly as Harriet and Jeremy reached the table, which almost creaked under the array of food and drink it bore. She was looking at Harriet's hair. When she reached up, Harriet's fingers felt a stray blade of grass. She tugged it free, blushing.
“I tripped,” she offered.
“As I said, the path is quite overgrown,” Jeremy restated, pulling a chair out from the table for Harriet.
“My dear Lady Harriet, I am most terribly sorry. If I had realized the state the path had gotten into, I would never have recommended the shortcut,” Edmund said, pouring tea and offering sugar lumps.
“How peculiar, though. Eloise and I took the shortcut and arrived just a minute or two ago. We did not see you two,” Simon pressed, face creased in mock confusion.
“The wood is perhaps larger than it looks. And with more than one path,” Jeremy smiled back, the expression not touching his eyes.
“Yes, that would explain it,” Simon replied, eyes as hard as Jeremy's above his false smile.
