Page 27 of Ravished

"Perfectly, Mrs. Treadwell. Perfectly. Will you have some more tea?" Effie picked up the pot.

Mrs. Treadwell glowered at her in frustration. She put down her cup and saucer with a clatter and stood up abruptly. "I have done my duty. You have been warned, Mrs. Ashecombe. You have the responsibility for these two young ladies on your shoulders. I trust you will attend to that responsibility."

"I shall endeavor to do my best," Effie said coldly.

"Good day to you, Mrs. Treadwell. I do hope that the next time you come to call you will give us some notice. Otherwise you might not find us at home. I shall summon my housekeeper to show you to the door."

The hall door opened and closed a moment later and Harriet breathed a deep sigh of relief. "What a meddling creature. I have never liked that woman."

"Nor have I," Felicity said. "I must say, you handled her very well, Aunt Effie."

Effie's lips pursed and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "It was a nasty little scene, was it not? I dread to think what is being said in the village this morning. No doubt every shopkeeper is discussing last night's assembly with every customer who walks in the door. I was afraid of this, Harriet."

Harriet poured more tea for herself. "Really, Aunt Effie, there is nothing at all to concern you. It was only one dance and, as I am very much on my way to becoming an old maid, I cannot see that it matters so very much. The excitement will all pass very soon."

"Let us hope so." Effie sighed. "Here I thought I would have to worry about protecting Felicity from St. Justin and it turns out that you are the one at risk, Harriet. How very odd. According to his reputation, he prefers very young girls."

Harriet remembered the confrontation with Gideon that morning. She knew she would never forget the rage and pain in his eyes as he had lashed out at her on the subject of lost honor. "I do not think we should believe everything we hear about St. Justin, Aunt Effie."

Mrs. Stone appeared in the doorway, her doleful eyes full of righteous warning. "Ye had best believe it, Miss Harriet, if ye know what's good for ye. Mark my words. The Beast will not hesitate to ruin another young lady if he gets the chance."

Harriet got to her feet. "You will not refer to his lordship as a beast again, Mrs. Stone. Do you understand? If you do so, you will find yourself looking for another position."

She walked to the door and went down the hall to her study, ignoring the startled silence behind her. Safe in her own personal refuge once again, she closed the door and sat down behind her desk. Absently she picked up a savagely grinning skull and turned it over in her hands.

Gideon was no beast. He was a man who had been badly scarred by life and his own fate, but he was no beast. Harriet knew she would stake her life and her own reputation on that.

Late that night Gideon put down a volume of history he had been attempting to read for the last hour and poured himself a glass of brandy. He stretched his legs out toward the fire and contemplated the flames over the rim of the glass.

The sooner this business of catching thieves was finished the better, he thought. The situation was getting dangerous. He knew that, even if Harriet Pomeroy did not. If he had any sense he would get out of the neighborhood as quickly as possible.

What the hell had he been thinking of last night when he had swept her into that waltz? He knew damn well people would talk, especially when he did not bother to ask any other woman in the room to dance.

Another rector's daughter had danced with the Beast of Blackthorne Hall. Was history about to repeat itself?

Something about Harriet was definitely making him reckless. Gideon had tried to tell himself she was an annoying little bluestocking whose only passions were reserved for old bones. But he knew that was untrue.

Harriet had more than enough passion to satisfy any man. Even if he had not experienced it in her kiss that morning in the cave, it had been crystal clear in her eyes last night when he had taken her into his arms to dance the waltz.

He had walked out of the assembly rooms shortly thereafter because he had known that if he stayed he would have provided the village gossips with even more grist for their mills. It was Harriet who would have to endure the speculation and chatter after he was gone. She might think it would be a minor trial, but she was naive. It could be hell.

Gideon warmed the brandy glass in his hands. It would be best if he left the vicinity soon, before he was prompted into one of his more outrageous actions again.

But he knew that a part of him was hoping it would take a good long while to trap the thieves.

He leaned his head back against the chair and thought of how it had felt last night to hold Harriet in his arms. She had been warm and sleek and she had responded beautifully to the dance. There had been a delightful eagerness in her. She had taken an unabashed delight in the wickedly sensual waltz. Gideon knew she would make love with the same sweet responsiveness.

The lady was, after all, nearly twenty-five years old and definitely strong-minded. Perhaps he should stop trying to be noble about the whole thing and let Harriet worry about her own reputation.

Who was he to refuse the lady the right to play with fire?

Three nights later Harriet found herself unable to sleep. She tossed and turned restlessly for two hours after going to bed. A sense of uneasiness was plaguing her. She felt anxious and alarmed for no apparent reason.

She finally gave up trying to pretend she was going to get any rest and got out of bed. When she opened the drapes she saw that clouds were partially obscuring the moon. The tide was out and she could see the swatch of silvered sand at the bottom of the cliffs.

She saw something else as well. The flicker of a lamp.

The thieves had returned.

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