Page 45 of Indecently Daring

“Indeed, you ought not,” Alana agreed.

“Fine. Then he must love you from afar and regret his idiocy for the rest of his days. How’s that?”

Alana shook her head, unable to scold the girl when she was so earnest in her steadfast determination that Alana ought to be happy. “I suppose it’s a little better.”

“Better than he deserves after making you miserable,” Cat retorted. “Well, I wish you’d come, but I shan’t say another word. I’m saving you a seat in case you change your mind, though. Oh, do change your mind, dearest.”

They both turned at a knock at the door.

“Lady St Clair wants to know if you are ready, Lady Catherine,” called a maid servant.

“Yes, coming,” Cat replied. “Well, I must dash. I hope to see you.”

“Perhaps,” Alana said. She felt bad for letting her friend down. “Maybe in a little while.”

“Oh, hurrah,” Cat said, beaming. “I’m so glad. Then I shall see you later. But not too much later.”

And with that, she hurried from the room.

It took Alana a good hour to persuade herself into going to the auction. She really did not want to see Harry again. It was simply too humiliating. As far as he was concerned, she was a problem that needed to go away so he could go back to his life. It was hardly flattering. If that had been the only part of the problem, it might have been bearable, but it was worse than that.

Somewhere between watching him devour the stew she had made, and that sinful kiss against the altar, Alana was very afraid that Cat might be right. Perhaps she wasn’t in love with the wretched man yet, but she was falling, hard and fast and inevitably, and she didn’t know how to make it stop. She supposed it was her own fault. Hadn’t she wanted to know what it felt like to fall in love, to feel desperate for a man’s touch, for his kisses, his company? Well, she was desperate, and the blasted fellow wanted her to go away. It was too depressing.

Forcing herself to tidy up and fetch her coat and gloves, she took the long route to the church hall, through the village. A delaying tactic, certainly, but she needed to bolster her courage to face Harry without blushing. She was almost through the village, and approaching the Lamb, when she noticed a groom walking a magnificent black horse up and down. Pirate. Her heart ached when she remembered how Harry had spoken of his beloved horse. How she wished she could get Pirate back for him. Kilbane did not strike her as a man likely to do anything from the goodness of his heart, assuming he had a heart at all. From what she had heard, there was little resembling goodness in him, no matter what Cat thought. The girl was deluded, sadly, but it was impossible to reason with her. Once Cat had made up her mind to defend and protect someone, that was it. She was their champion, whether they wanted her or not. Alana had to admit she was relieved by Kilbane’s obvious indifference to her friend. He clearly viewed Cat as an annoying child and wanted nothing to do with her, which was the best they could hope for. What on earth was he doing back here, though?

Deciding it was none of her affair what the man was up to, Alana walked on, and was close to the vicarage when she heard a volley of furious shouting.

“Lemme go! Lemme go! I won’t go, I don’t want to… Gerroff!”

“Jeb?” Alana called, stopping in her tracks just in time to see a huge, burly fellow striding off, with Jeb slung over his shoulder like an old carpet. Jeb was pounding at the man’s back, to little effect. His mother scurried behind, holding her skirts as she ran to keep up.

“Mrs Maby!” Alana shouted. “Mrs Maby, what is the meaning of this?”

“None of your business is what it is. He’s my boy, and I’m takin’ him back.”

“Oh, no.” Alana dithered for a moment, uncertain of the best course of action. She wanted to rush after the big brute and demand he put Jeb down, but that was unlikely to yield results. Well, there was nothing for it. She ran towards the village hall.

Chapter 14

Dearest Pip,

Thank you for your last letter. It is wonderful to hear how you are getting on at Goshen Court. It sounds like you’ve had trials a plenty to overcome and we are so proud of you for taking them on and persevering. You will make a marvellous success of it. I know you will. Perhaps you will invite us to visit you one day soon, so we might see all you have achieved.

My darling boy, won’t you tell me what the trouble is? I did not like to corner you at Christmas and demand answers, though I was sorely tempted. But you were with us for such a short time, and I did not want to risk an argument when I was so happy to see you. Your father counsels me to be patient. He tells me to give you space and time and that when you are ready, you will come to us, but he is the most patient man in the world, and I am not in the least patient. You know that I am not patient, Pip, and I worry so.

Please, won’t you tell me what has happened that has you hiding away in that vast mausoleum of a place all alone? I know your father chastised you for squandering your talents and your time on frivolous pastimes, but we did not intend for you to become a monk. Will you not return for the season? Do you not wish to marry and have children? What is it I am not seeing? I worry for you.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Most Hon’ble Matilda Barrington, Marchioness of Montagu, to her eldest son, The Right Hon’ble Philip Barrington, The Earl of Ashburton.

25thJanuary 1845, Holbrook Village Hall, Sussex.

Harry scanned the hall, pleased by the turnout. The place was bursting at the seams, with every chair taken and people standing in the aisles and at the back. The bidding had become quite heated at times, though Lady St Clair, who was playing auctioneer, was cool and collected and had a way of skewering you with a glance that made anyone getting overexcited feel the need to sit down and be quiet immediately. Yet among all those here, he could see no sign of Alana.

Right in the front was Lady Catherine, and beside her was an empty seat, which several young gentlemen had tried their best to occupy, only to be sent away with short shrift. Well, she must be expecting her friend, then. The two women had been inseparable since they’d arrived at Holbrook, after all. Harry tried to catch the girl’s eye, hoping he might ask where the lady was. A moment later, he did indeed gain Lady Catherine’s attention, only to be on the receiving end of a volcanic look that Lady St Clair could not have bettered.

Ah. So Alana had told her what had happened. Marvellous. Not only did that mean his beloved was furious with him, and rightly so, but it meant that her friend wanted to do him bodily harm, too. His chances of being accepted as a potential suitor were looking slim. Again, he did not feel able to defend his behaviour. He’d acted shabbily and caused hurt, and… and perhaps this was proof that he’d been right, and Michael was wrong. Perhaps Harry was not ready for such a relationship. He was unprepared to have another human being depending on him. Maybe he would be ready one day, but just not yet. In a year, perhaps, or two. But in a year or two, someone else would have seen how astonishing Alana was and married her. Someone who wasn’t him.

Damn it.