Chapter Seventeen
Nuptial bliss aside, dawn came right on time, waking Harriet from a blissful slumber curled into a messy heap with her new husband.
It would seem that dawn had little or no effect on the new Viscount, so she carefully disengaged herself without waking him, shivering a little at her nakedness and the residual stickiness on her thighs. There was little blood, she was pleased to note and what there was easily cleansed with water from the ewer.
She wished it had been warmer, but adding a log to the low fire might wake Paul. He needed his sleep, since today was Christmas Day, and his new status meant that there would be many changes in the offing.
Dressing rapidly, she did her best to drag her thoughts off the naked body beneath the quilt, and onto the tasks for the morning. She might be Lady Hayward, but there were other guests in the house who would require breakfast, and servants who might need direction.
Title notwithstanding, Harriet had work to do, much as she would have loved to linger in bed with Paul.
But there would be time for that. A whole lifetime, in fact, and with that happy thought in mind, she left their room and began her day.
Cook and the servants were already hard at work, reassuring her that they’d enjoyed a lovely Christmas Eve with their loved ones, and asking after hers.
She merely smiled and said it couldn’t have been better. And wasn’t that the truth?
The menu for the day was already set—several geese would be roasted, and there would be the usual chestnuts, vegetables, side dishes and all the trimmings. Mincemeat was simmering, scenting most of the house, and when combined with the fragrance of fresh bread, it set Harriet’s mouth to watering.
Apparently hers wasn’t the only one responding, since a couple of bells rang in the servant’s hall, alerting them that their masters and mistresses were awake and ready to start their day as well.
She nodded the servants off about their tasks, shared a quick cup of tea with Cook, and promised to return for eggs and toast and some Christmas ham after she’d completed her work upstairs.
Returning to the hall, there was a quiet bustle in the air, as maids moved from room to room, valets opened and closed doors upstairs, and the murmur of voices softened the silence.
The Yule log responded to a good stoking with the poker, and Harriet nodded as flames erupted from the still smouldering monster log filling the hearth. There would be plenty of leftover charred wood and ashes to distribute around the area. The little packages would bring good luck throughout the year, and if there were any unburned or barely singed bits left over, they would stand guard in a bucket next to the hearth until next Christmas, when they would be used to light a new Yule log.
Even though there’d been no traditional lucky kindling this year, it had still been one of good fortune, reflected Harriet. For her, anyway.
Before she could mount the staircase to the second floor, a knock sounded at the front door.
It was Christmas Day, so it was quite possible visitors would be about, eager to extend the greetings to neighbors. It was the country, so Harriet thought little of walking past the hearth and opening the door.
“Good morning, Happy…”
She got no further before she was physically pushed back into the hall.
“Found you at last, you devil brat.”
Her uncle’s voice hit her like a brick and before she knew it, she was muffled by a cape of some sort.
“Quick. Tie up her hands.”
That was her aunt. As if she could fail to recognize the vicious tone of the woman’s snake-like hiss. How could she have been so stupid as to open the door so widely without paying attention?
Fury flooded her and she began to fight, crying out in fury but muffled by the thick cloak.
Kicking out, she heard a muted grunt from her aunt as her foot connected with a knee. And then she struggled against her uncle’s grip, freed a hand and thrust her elbow backward. It met flesh and brought another grunt.
“Ow. That hurt.” His voice was angry. “You’ll pay for that.”
“After you’ve paid us, you ungrateful wretch. It’s Bedlam for you, without a doubt.”
Harriet kicked out once more, but missed this time, even though she continued to struggle against her uncle’s attempts to bind her wrists. He was a big man, and Harriet knew she’d have to be very lucky to free herself. The wool rendered her all but dumb, and all at once she wondered if she was actually going to lose this battle against the two people who hated her so much.
It was a frightening thought and she redoubled her efforts, squirming, lashing out with feet and elbows and even jerking her head back at one point, happy to feel the pain as it connected with her uncle’s chin.
“Eeeekk,” he squawked.
