Harriet grabbed Lord Barkley’s hand tight, and when she was sure the three were engaged, tugged him out of the nook; they hurried out of the library and were down the stairs in record time. She felt her that her face was mirroring a bonfire with how her cheeks were burning. The Earl was quiet behind her until they made it back to the ballroom.
“Now, you see what I mean?” Lord Barkley said. “He is a despoiler of women. Will you please let go of that ridiculous notion of yours?”
Harriet thought swiftly, and flicked out her fan. The encounter upstairs had been shocking, but the pricking of heat it had sent under her skin was just what she was aiming to feel with a lord like Dawson.
“I don’t know what you mean by despoiler,” Harriet said calmly. “Seems to me the lady was having the time of her life.”
Lord Barkley looked dumbstruck. “Are you telling me you’re…you’re still willing to embark on that campaign?”
“Without hesitation,” Harriet said, while extending her hand. “My letter, if you please.”
“No,” Lord Barkley said, “I will not give it over, not until you see sense.”
Harriet was ready to snap at him when Ben appeared at her side, “Harriet…” he looked at Daniel, then back at her, “Aunt Barbara and Martha were looking for you.”
“I was—”
“Dancing,” Lord Barkley said calmly. “Miss Bradford and I were dancing. She became flushed, and we stepped out on the balcony for air.”
Ben’s eyes narrowed a little, but then he shook his head, “I don’t believe you, but if it was anyone but you, Daniel, I would be livid. I know nothing untoward happened—” his brows inched up in an unspoken question.
“I give you my word,” Daniel replied.
The curt nod was Ben’s reply, “Now, Harriet, let’s go find Martha and Aunt Barbara before both have apoplexies. Raster, I’ll see you before you leave.”
Harriet shot a look over her shoulder to Lord Barkley before she hurried away with her brother. His eyes stayed with her, and she felt his gaze on the back of her neck as Ben took her to Martha’s rooms, where her sister laid on a fainting couch, looking a bit pale and fanning herself.
Aunt Barbara, their late-mother’s sister, was there with a fretful look on her face, and a bottle of smelling salts in her hand.
“Martha!” Harriet rushed to her sister’s side, “What happened?”
“Her nerves, dear,” Aunt Barbara said while patting Martha’s hand, “All the pressure of planning tonight got to her. She’ll be all right.”
Martha gave her a faint smile, her blue eyes paler than Harriet had ever seen them. “Aunt Barbara is right. I’ll be fine, soon. I need some special calming tea that dear Antony bought me.”
Sitting on the edge of the couch, Harriet held Martha’s hand. “I know your disposition is delicate, Martha. Don’t you think it best to let the housekeeper do most of the work here so that you won’t get so frazzled?”
“I try,” Martha said before she sighed. “But it was not how I was raised. After Mother passed and before Aunt Barbara came to us, Emma and I took on all the home's responsibility to make sure you didn’t have to sacrifice your education to take care of a home. Benjamin was already at Cambridge, and we could not bother him. It’s my nature to take charge.”
Martha’s paleness did not sit well with Harriet. “I understand, but please, see if you can let go of the reins, starting with just a little. Then, maybe you can see it right to let go of more.”
A weak smile was Harriet’s reply, “I’ll try, Dear. How are you finding the ball? I’m sorry I wasn’t there to introduce you to a few people.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Harriet insisted. “And I can take care of myself. Ben’s friend, Lord Barkley, has been very kind to me.”
Footsteps at the doorway had them turning to find Antony there; his expression rife with concern. “Dearest, my God. What happened?”
Martha sat up at her husband's voice, “I forgot to eat this morning, but kept trying to oversee everything for the ball. I nearly collapsed in the kitchen from the heat and weakness.”
“The housekeeper found her and alerted me,” Aunt Barbara said, while fixing her paisley, fringed turban with beige-gloved hands. “Thank goodness I carry my salts everywhere I go.”
“I’ll have some tea and then join our guests for dinner,” Martha said.
“No, you certainly are not,” Antony said strictly. “I won’t have you collapsing in your turtle soup. You’ll go to our rooms and rest. I’ll have your dinner brought up to you.”
Martha still looked worried, “I don’t want to disappoint you, now—”
“Hush,” Antony said, kindly. “You did not disappoint me or anyone. I need you happy and well, Dearest. I’ll make your excuses for you.”
