He said it dispassionately, but I could tell from his eyes there was great pain there. ‘Oh, how terrible. How old were you?’
‘I was eleven. And my brother, Harrington—or Harry, as he prefers—was thirteen. After that, my father packed us both off to Eton so we weren’t around to interfere with his “lifestyle”. With a father like that, there was no hope for me. I was destined to follow in his footsteps ... until I metyou.’
He leaned in, his lips moist and parted, and I realised he was about to kiss me. If that happened, I knew Max would be lost to me forever.
‘No!’ I gasped. ‘Do not attempt it! I love my husband. I want only him.’
In desperation, I twisted my head at the last minute so his lips bounced harmlessly off my cheek instead.
‘Such a doting wife,’ Mr Hart murmured, his nose in my hair. ‘And such a little liar. You want me too—I know you do.’
He grasped my dress and slowly pushed it up around my thighs. ‘If my fingers searched between your legs, I know what they’d find: an ocean of longing.’
‘I think not,’ I replied tartly, yanking my dress down. ‘You would find a dry, sandy beach that was perfectly content.’
Mr Hart laughed. ‘That does not sound conducive to having children.’
‘I do not want children, and neither does Max.’
He lifted an eyebrow in disbelief, staring at me. ‘Is this a religious thing? Are you a married nun?’
I huffed a laugh. ‘No! I do not have to explain our relationship to you. Stop it, Mr Hart!’ This last was exclaimed as he again tried to pull up my dress, andthere was a brief struggle that nearly caused the fabric to rip. Fearing that he would throw me onto the desk and ‘teach me’ like Molly, there was nothing else I could do but slap himhardacross the face.
It seemed to bring him out from his lust-driven urge, and he sprang back, clasping his cheek and cursing me. ‘Why the devil did you do that?’
‘Because you did not stop when I asked you to! Please desist from trying to maul me and give me leave,’ I said, adjusting my dress and smoothing my hair, which was in such disarray it was like I had been wrestling in a bush.
Silently, Mr Hart stood to one side, looking sour. But to my relief, he let me collect my candle and pass.
As I did so, I saw the imprint of red fingermarks like warpaint on his left cheek. He had deserved it, but I had never struck anyone in my life before, and I felt ashamed. ‘Mr Hart ... Dorian ... I ...’
‘Just go, Felicity,’ he mumbled.
Not knowing what else to say and feeling tired and drained, I slipped through the door and crept along the passageway back to my bedroom. My smarting hand was a stark reminder of our seedy encounter. The sooner we were all in the mail coach heading to the inn, the better.
***
It seemed but a minute that I was asleep when I was woken by a short sharp cry. I sat up, peering into the darkness, and Jane stirred next to me.
‘What was that?’ she asked groggily.
I had decided to spend the night locked in her room after the encounter with Mr Hart as I now knew he had access to my room through Royden’s panel. After I had turned into Madam Slap, I doubted he would try anything else, but I did not want to take any chances.
‘It sounded like Lucinda. Stay there. I will go to her. She probably had a bad dream.’
It took me a few minutes to fetch my shawl and find the keys. Then I was padding to Lucinda’s room. Quietly, I unlocked her door at the same time as I knocked, so she didn’t hear me turning the key.
‘Lucy? Are you all right?’ I called softly.
No reply came except for a stifled whimper.
I moved forward cautiously with my hand outstretched. It was so dark in here, and I did not want to stub my toe on one of the solid oak bedposts.
I felt along the edge of the counterpane until I touched her hand. She jerked it away with a gasp.
‘It’s me,dearest.’
‘Oh,’ she said, sounding relieved.
