Chapter Twenty-Two
Harriet and Paul left FitzArden Hall at a little past midnight.
After James and Letitia had retired, there was a bit of an awkward silence in the library, but finally Harriet had sighed. “Well, now we have to occupy ourselves for a little while, I suppose.” She looked at Paul. “I have to thank you, Mr. DeVoreaux. For the dreadful inconvenience both Letitia and I have asked of you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What, just for walking you home?”
“Late at night. In the cold.”
He chuckled. “Dear girl, I have boots and a warm winter cloak, not to mention a muffler and a hat, and even gloves when I remember to wear them.”
“Yes, but even so…” Harriet tried to do her best to thank him. “I am in your debt.”
“Strictly speaking, it’s James and Letitia who are in my debt.” He stared into the fire. “I hope it won’t turn out to be a disaster. If it does, I shall refrain from reminding them that I helped make it possible. I’d appreciate your not mentioning it either.”
“I won’t,” she promised. “But I doubt that eventuality will come to pass. They’re far too well-matched.”
He nodded. “Rock and steel.”
“Pardon?”
“James and Letitia.” Paul stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles as he looked at Harriet. “Letitia is sharp steel, bright, intelligent, often flashing and darting here and there.”
“Well, you could say that, yes.”
“And I just did.” He grinned. “But then you have James. Steady as the proverbial rock, and with the patience of one as well. He will wait, and wait and wait until he gets his way. There’s no moving him, unless you’re an earthquake, once he’s set his mind to a thing.” He pointed above the fireplace. “See that painting?”
Harriet nodded.
“It took him four years to get that. He had to wait out two previous owners. But he wouldn’t accept another in its place.”
“A man of great determination, then,” acknowledged Harriet.
“Indeed.”
She sighed. “He’ll need all of that and more if he’s to deal successfully with Letitia. Once she’s set her mind on a goal, she never gives up until she reaches it. Nothing gets in her way.”
“I foresee an interesting few months ahead for both of us,” he laughed.
“Oh dear,” said Harriet. “I believe you may be correct, sir.”
He glanced at the clock. “Well, what do you say, Miss Harry? Shall we take our leave?”
Harriet wished she could answer no. She so enjoyed sitting like this, safe and warm, in the company of a gentleman she had found herself coming to admire a great deal. But—if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. It was a saying of her mother’s, and it still rang true.
“It seems like the right time, yes,” she said, standing and allowing herself a little stretch. “This evening has been great fun.”
“I have enjoyed myself a lot,” said Paul, on his feet in an instant and banking down the fire. “I hope we have chance to repeat it.”
“As do I,” Harriet replied.
“I still wonder if we should have taken horses. Or one horse,” mused Paul. “You could have ridden pillion.”
“But then someone in the stables would have known,” answered Harriet practically. “We are trying to keep this entire evening private, aren’t we?”
Paul agreed with a nod, retrieving his cloak and a thick muffler, along with his hat.
Wrapped in their warm woollen cocoons, they opened the front door, only to be greeted by a whoosh of wet snowflakes. “Oh look,” cried Harriet. “It’s snowing.”
