Damsel In Distress?

Harry, the third man in the group, walked away from them and started looking at the books in the small bookshelf against the far wall. Peter quirked an eyebrow at him. He hadn’t hired him for his brains, but rather for his bulging muscles. Peter didn’t even know Harry could read.

Getting Harry to come out in public, especially to events such as this with high society present, was nearly impossible. Harry was a great hulk of a man, standing head and shoulders over everyone else, and easily recognisable.

Strains of music drifted through the closed door of their hiding place, indicating they needed to wrap up their meeting and head back out to the ballroom before they were missed.

Peter turned his attention back to Charlie. “We can only assume she was unsuccessful in her delivery. For one, she would’ve returned instead of running and two, nothing has happened. You know as well as I, there will be consequences if she is successful.”

“You’re sure you searched her well enough? What about her horse, she could have stashed them in its saddle.” Charlie pulled at the tightly knotted cravat around his neck.

“Possibly, but when I returned a few hours later, the horse and tack were intact.” Peter walked to the corner of the room where the light from the candle didn’t reach, and lifted something onto his shoulder. He carried it over to the table and threw it down. “See for yourself.” The saddle lay in a mound in the centre of the table. It was clear that he had ripped all the seams apart to look for hidden objects.

“And you found nothing?”

“Only this.” He pulled a long chain from his pocket and let the pendant swing back and forth. “It may be hers, but I thought she would have something a bit more reserved.”

The other man caught the swinging object and stared at the nude silhouette of a lady on the pendant for a moment longer than necessary. A grin crossed Charlie’s face for an instant. “Our Princess won’t be going anywhere then, will she?” He laughed. “No papers then?” he asked after he got his laughter under control.

“I just said there weren’t,” Peter snapped. This gathering had gone on long enough.

Charlie wasn’t done yet. “How did you get the saddle? Surely someone saw you.”

“I bought it. The Bow Street runner there wasn’t concerned about evidence. In fact, he assumed some gent broke his horse’s leg and then shot it before high-tailing it home so he wouldn’t have to dispose of the creature. All I had to do was offer money for the saddle. I love London. They make this all too easy.”

Charlie stroked the beard on his chin. “Except for our witness. Have you found out who he is?”

“That’s exactly what we are doing here.” Peter wondered why he surrounded himself with idiots. “You and Harry make some inquires about who he is. He’ll know what happened to our Princess.”

Charlie looked over towards the far end of the room. “Are you sure about Harry, boss?”

Peter turned to look at the man in question just in time to see him sniff his handkerchief. “On second thought, maybe you and I should go out there by ourselves. Go home, Harry.”

Harry nodded and waited for the other men to leave the room before he snuck out the back door of the house, a smile on his lips.

Chapter 9

Dear Readers, it is with great concern I write this to you today. It has recently been brought to my attention that Lord Eaglestone was seen in the company of a particular lady two mornings past. Unfortunately this author has been unable to procure the identity of the young lady in question, however I am of the understanding that all is not as well as it seems at No. 7 Park Street. Not long after the lady and gentleman (if one could call him that) arrived at the door, so too did a doctor and it was some time before he departed. No one other than Lady C has left the residence and I am assured that Lady C is not the lady in question. So who is this mystery woman was in need of a physician and why, oh why did Lord Eaglestone kiss her?

“It’s bloody well in the papers!” Philip stormed across the room with a newspaper in his hand. He flung the paper down on the table in front of his sister. “Who saw us? You didn’t tell anyone she was here did you?”

Cressandra adjusted the surplice sleeve of her white morning dress. “No of course not, brother,” she said and calmly moved the paper away from her breakfast plate. “I know all too well what state she was in when she arrived. It was clear to me someone wishes to see her dead. It would be most irresponsible of me to say she was under our roof.” She bit into a pastry with relish. She did love her breakfast.

“It wouldn’t be the staff.” He was certain of that. He knew where their loyalties lay.

“Oh no, Philip, you know they would not say a word.” Cressandra tipped her head at him and asked, “Did you really kiss her?”

“I did no such thing. Whoever saw us obviously thought they saw something they didn’t or this writer,” he pointed to the offending the paper lying discarded near the poached eggs, “is trying to sell more copies.” Philip ignored the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he might be lying. He had wanted to kiss Harriet, her lips begged him to, but he would’ve been a cad to take advantage when she was in the state she was the night she was attacked.

They looked at each other for a moment. “Mrs Barrett,” they said at the same time.

It would be just like her to spread something like this. Mrs Barrett lived next door and she had a lot to do with the reason Philip’s reputation was what it was. She loved to put her own twist on any gossip she could lay her hands on and if she had indeed been up early enough to see Philip bring Harriet into the house, she wouldn’t have been able to keep such a juicy gem to herself.

“If anyone is looking for Harriet, it won’t take them long to find her now. I will call on Lord Harrison this morning and see what kind of measures we should put in place. In the meantime call for Dr Brown to see if she can be moved and ask Murdock to stand guard outside her room. No one in their right mind would try to get past that brute.”

“Are you sure he’s the best? He’s so gentle.”

“Be that as it may, he looks the part. I for one wouldn’t want to meet a man that looks like him in a dark alley.” Philip slumped into a chair. “No, anyone that comes looking for Harriet will think twice about trying to get past him.”

***

When Harriet next opened her eyes she was alone in her room. A quick glance at the chair showed her a rumpled blanket and discarded pillow, but no Lord Eaglestone. More’s the pity. She wanted to know if she’d imagined how good looking he was.

The sheets crinkled as she shimmied her way closer to the edge of the bed. The coolness of the sheets away from the centre of the bed was refreshing on her heated skin. The windows were no longer open and she longed to once more feel the cool breeze she had enjoyed earlier. The water on the table beckoned her. But even teetering on the very edge of the bed she was unable to reach the pitcher to pour herself a glass.

She moaned in frustration. All she wanted was a drink. There was a bell resting on the table next to the water, presumably so she could ring for assistance. A fat lot of good it did her though, as she was unable to reach the bell either.

Harriet gritted her teeth and wiggled into a sitting position. Her head swam and she grasped the headboard to stop herself from tumbling onto the floor. Her body couldn’t take another fall. She stared at the pitcher of water and willed it closer, but no such luck, it stubbornly stayed where it was. She was going to have to get it herself.

She took a deep breath, released the headboard and grabbed the bed post closest to her while swinging her feet over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. She swayed dangerously, black spots flashing in front of her eyes and bile rising up her throat. She forced her eyes from the red swirling carpet on the floor back up to the pitcher. Thankfully the bile remained down where it should be and her surroundings stopped moving of their own accord. Gradually the black spots faded and her vision cleared.

Where earlier she was wishing for a breeze through the window, now she was glad they remained closed. Her body was drenched in a cold sweat and she shivered uncontrollably and she still didn’t have the water. If anything she was even more desperate to feel moisture on her tongue than before. Powerless to stop the shaking, she reached for the pitcher anyway.

She almost knocked it over twice but somehow she managed to pour some water into the glass on the table. Her whole arm shook with the effort and by the time she finally brought the glass to her lips, she was almost too exhausted to drink any of it.

The tepid water unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth and relieved her dry lips. When she lowered to glass, she was amazed to find it empty. She reached over to place it back on the table but she misjudged the distance and set it on the edge of the table. Her reactions were too slow to catch it before it fell. It hit the drawer handle on the way down and exploded into thousands of tiny fragments of crystal, one of which lodged itself in her shin. She watched as a drop of blood trickled down her leg and onto the priceless carpet at her feet.

Slowly, slowly she moved her legs back up onto the bed and reached down to pluck the shard loose. It stung as she pulled it out and started to bleed again, but she was too tired to stem the flow. Placing the shard on the table she wiggled back down the bed until she was lying flat once more. Seconds later she was fast asleep.

Chapter 10

Philip stopped as soon as he walked into the room.

Blood.

The smell of it greeted him at the door and instantly he was transported back to that awful night in the park. He rushed to her bed but soft snores came from her lips and she was unscathed. He stood in silence and watched her sleeping. The gentle rise and fall of her chest soothed him. He moved to the other side of the bed and pulled the all-too familiar chair closer to the bed and sat down.

Something sharp stabbed him in his stocking foot. It was only then that he noticed the bloody shard of glass lying on the table. Looking down, a thousand pieces of crystal twinkled on the floor in the late afternoon light. A smear of red across the sheets caught his attention and he stripped the cover back.

He didn’t know she slept naked.

Air left his lungs in a whoosh as the expanse of skin greeted his eyes. His hands itched to touch its smoothness but with a sigh he lowered the sheet back over her, the vision still burned upon his eyes. He grabbed the small bell standing on the table and shook it savagely. The ringing brought a maid running but it also woke Harriet. He cursed his stupidity and slumped back into the chair.

“Miss Harriet is injured and there is glass littering this floor. Where were you?” he asked, the anger rising up inside him. “You should have been here with her. She should not be left alone.” He said everything to the maid that he should have been saying to himself.

“Philip,” Harriet spoke softly and placed a hand on his knee. “It’s all right. It’s my fault there is glass everywhere. I’m terribly sorry you cut yourself.”

He looked at her pale face and felt like an even bigger ass. “That’s just it, Harriet, you shouldn’t have been left alone. Why didn’t you ring the bell if you wanted a glass of water?”

“I couldn’t reach it.” Temper flared in her eyes and he was pleased she wasn’t as much an invalid as she looked.

Philip gritted his teeth until he was sure he heard them crack. “My point exactly.”

A smile graced her lips warming his heart. Unable to take his eyes off her, Philip apologised to the maid for his outburst and propped his feet on the bed so the maid could remove the glass from the carpet.

“Sir?” ventured the maid after a few moments down on her knees.

“Yes?” He still hadn’t stopped looking at Harriet.

“I’m sorry sir, but you gonna have to move, sir, I can’t reach the rest.”

He looked at the floor and saw the crystal still sparkling in the light, although not nearly as much as before. He switched his gaze to the maid. Her hands were covered in small cuts, blood oozing from the tips of her fingers. He jerked to his feet, resulting in his pushing the shard of crystal that was still in his foot, further into his skin.

“Good Lord, girl, what are you doing?”

“Picking up the glass, sir, like you said.”

Guilt swamped him. She was right, he had been too preoccupied by Harriet to pay any attention to the maid, but he never intended for her to hurt herself, especially not for him. To help clear his conscience he helped her to her feet.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but I assumed you would fetch yourself some gloves before you started, and I never intended you to be harmed. Take yourself down to the kitchen and have Cook look after your hands. That glass needs to be removed. Take the rest of the day off and tomorrow as well. Lord knows you won’t be much use with hands cut up like that. Off you go now.”

The maid bobbed a curtsey. “Yes sir, thank you sir.” With a huge smile on her lips she turned and fled.

Harriet chuckled as the girl rushed from the room. “You’re a good man, Philip Blade, and I think you just made her day.”

Philip shrugged. He imagined the maid would appreciate the time off. So would he; with the maid out of the way he and Harriet were once again alone in the room.

“And you, my dear, have a cut on your leg. Do you want me to send for Dr Brown to tend to it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Philip, you can manage without him, I’m sure.” She thrust her leg from under the covers and once again he found himself staring at her bare skin.

His butt hit the chair again. It had been doing that a lot lately. He reached out and gently clasped her leg with his hand. Her skin was as smooth as he was scared it would be. His fingers ran up her leg of their own accord and he was hard pressed to make them stop at the cut on her shin. With his other hand he dipped the edge of the sheet into the pitcher of water and used it to mop up the dried blood. A small drop of fresh blood appeared at the site and he lowered his face and kissed it away. The metallic taste was strong on his tongue. He raised his head and looked into her eyes.

“I’m not sure why I did that,” he said.

“Don’t stop,” she replied breathlessly.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Philip lowered his head back to her leg and kissed his way from her toes to her knee. He wouldn’t allow himself to go further no matter how much he desired to do so.

Chapter 11

Shivers ran up and down Harriet’s spine with each kiss Philip brushed upon her skin. Her head fell back onto the pillows with a sigh, her fists clenching the sheets at her side.

He stopped.

She sat up and looked at him. What the hell was he stopping for?

His forehead was resting on her knee, one hand gently clasping her foot and the other fisted the covers, the only evidence that he too was struggling to maintain control.

She lowered herself back down so she was lying flat. Her body was exhausted from all the activity today. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing and fight away the desire skating through her system.

“Philip?” she called after a few moments.

He raised his head off her knee and quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Come here,” she beckoned.

Flutters erupted in her chest as he crawled up the bed towards her. He poised himself over her, a boyish grin upon his face. “Yes, my lady, you called?”

“My head hurts, could you lie with me a little while?”

Concern replaced his smile and he lay down next to her before gathering her into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. “Rest, my lady,” he whispered into her hair and dropped a kiss onto her forehead.

Harriet snuggled closer to his warmth, closed her eyes and fell back to sleep.

***

Her head hurt less when she awoke. She was alone in her bed, the space beside her more empty than it had ever been before. Harriet turned her head and looked out the window. She was glad they had finally opened the curtains. It must be early morning with the way the light hung in the air and cast shadows on the ground. A large tree outside her window cast shadows from its leaves throughout the room. She was watching them shift in the breeze when there was a small knock on her door. She managed to roll so that she was looking at the doorway when it cracked open.

Cressandra’s head poked in. “Oh, you’re awake,” she said with a bright smile. “I was hoping to find you up.” She came the rest of the way into the room and took up residence in the chair her brother had been spending his nights in…except last night. A flush of heat covered her face.

Harriet looked at her guest. She was wearing a beautiful flowing gown that set off her light auburn hair and accentuated her curves. Harriet found herself wishing she too could look as nice as Cressandra, but supposed she would have to forego the option due to being confined to bed.

“Philip has finally allowed me to come and visit you. I’ve been dying to come ever since you arrived but I suppose he is right to let you recover and rest.” Cressandra scooted the chair closer to the edge of the bed and leaned in. “How are you feeling? I imagine you have such a sore head, what with what happened to you and all. Imagine getting chased down by madmen and nearly shot! Lucky thing my brother was out carousing that night, not that he’ll ever hear me admit such a thing, but all the same, lucky for you.”

Harriet decided that she was wrong. Her head did hurt today. “What do you mean, almost shot?”

“Oh! Ummm…hasn’t Philip told you? Well. I must be going now.” Cressandra jumped up from the chair and patted Harriet on the hand. “You feel better now. I’ll come back tomorrow.” She practically ran from the room.

Harriet lay there watching the shadows of leaves float along the ceiling and tried to remember. She tried to remember the night she was found and brought here and she tried to remember anything before that. Nothing. Her mind remained frustratingly blank. She still couldn’t even remember her last name, although there seemed to be a word dancing just out of her reach and try as she might to catch it, it drifted past her tongue.

The door opened again and without even looking she knew who it was. Philip came into view as he sat in the chair his sister had recently vacated. He sat in silence for a long time and finally Harriet brought her eyes to his face. She felt the now familiar jump in her chest as her eyes made contact with his. Would this always happen? The electric charge that jumped between them on contact? His eyes bore into hers. They seemed sad today and if she concentrated she was sure she would be able to pluck his thoughts out of his head into hers. She wasn’t certain that she wanted to.

“Are you all right?” She hated that he asked her so gently. His understanding almost undid her and she struggled to keep in her tears. She managed a nod and looked back up at the ceiling of her room. She couldn’t maintain eye contact with him any longer. If she could feel his thoughts, then surely he could feel hers.

“Cressandra told me she thinks she may have upset you.” Harriet sensed him run his hands through his hair. Over the last few days she had become very aware of his habits and this was one done regularly in her presence, as though she was a source of concern.

“She didn’t upset me.”

“I should have told you earlier.” His hand touched her face gently and she turned to once again look into his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said and she could see the regret on his face. “I didn’t want to upset you by telling you everything that happened that night. Dr Brown agreed with me.” Philip raised his hand as though to stop any comment from her. “It’s no excuse, I know, but I was trying to protect you as much as I could. You have to understand that I feel responsible for you now. I should have been able to stop those men before they hurt you like they did, but I didn’t and for that I will be forever sorry.”

He placed his hand gently on her arm and lightly rubbed it up and down. Sparks flew along her skin at his touch and warmth spread throughout her body. She pulled her arm away but forced herself to look directly into his eyes. She wished he’d lie with her again.

“Please tell me what happened. I want to know. I want to remember. You have no idea what it’s like to lie here and not know anything about yourself…not even your own name. Please tell me,” she begged him.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Philip leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. Harriet was glad for the extra space between them. If he wasn’t going to hold her and make her safe, she’d rather he kept his distance. She couldn’t think with him so close.

“I’ll start from the beginning,” he said, settling deeper into his chair as though they were in for a long story. She hoped it would jar her mind and unleash the memories hiding in there. “We went through this yesterday, do you remember?”

“Some…I think. Maybe you should tell me again. Why can’t I even recall conversations from yesterday?”

“It’s all right; you had quite a bump to your head. I suspect you will have a bit of problem with your memory for a while yet.” He reached over and brushed her hair away from the bandage on her head. “Very well, here we go. I attended a ball earlier in the night; I’ll admit I was a bit deep into my cups.” He grinned. “Deep enough I thought it was a good idea to follow my ex-mistress into the gardens of our host. I had obviously drunk far too much as any sane person would instantly know the error of that decision.” His smile had disappeared and Philip shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a red stain working its way up his neck. “Let’s just say she had her way with me and I felt the need to depart the party early. Unfortunately, she decided to come along with me and after further refreshment and uh…recreation at her residence, I managed to escape and head towards home. I was taking a short cut through the park since I had let my driver go home earlier. It was such a fine night and I’m not such a dandy that I can’t walk on my own two feet.” Philip sat up slightly in the chair and looked the part of a self-important peer for a moment before his shoulders drooped and he continued with his tale. “It was while I was walking home that I found you. You were running from three other horsemen and I must admit at first I thought you were a man from the way you were riding. You weren’t sitting side-saddle. It wasn’t long before I knew the truth, however. You screamed when they shot your horse.” Philip’s voice started to shake and Harriet rolled over and placed a hand on his knee. He grabbed her hand and squeezed. He wouldn’t look at her as he told her the rest. “I don’t know if you remember the walk back here?” Philip finally brought his eyes back to hers.

Harriet didn’t remember anything until she woke up in this room a few days ago and even that was a bit fuzzy.

“Well, you became weak; I’m surprised you managed as well as you did. I didn’t actually think I would get you out of the park, let alone all the way back here. Anyway, I had to carry you the rest of the way. You put your arms trustingly around my neck and I promised you then I wouldn’t let anyone ever hurt you again.” He took a deep breath and leaned forward until his lips were inches from hers and she could feel his breath caress her face. “I mean it, Harriet; I won’t let anyone get near you. You are safe with me.” He kissed her brow and stood up from the chair. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said and walked out of the room.

She raised her hand and placed it on her racing heart. Why did that last bit sound like a promise?

Chapter 12

“Harriet. Harriet, wake up.” A hand grasped her shoulder and was gently shaking her awake. Slowly the voices in her head receded and she was able to open her eyes. Philip was standing over her with tousled hair and unbuttoned shirt. “You were dreaming,” he said and sat back down.