Page 46 of The Earl and the Reluctant Lady
She swallowed. In love with her? What did Fletcher believe about love? They’d only ever discussed her theories. She had only ever considered his desire. She knew he wanted her. But she’d never considered he’d have a depth of emotion for her. He’d mentioned he might attend the concert tonight. Suddenly, the thought of seeing him that night filled her with equal measures of trepidation and excitement.
The concert at the Crystal Palace was crammed packed with guests. It seemed everyone who was anyone was there. The crowd did nothing to calm her jangled nerves. Her entire body practically hummed with an excited energy that she didn’t quite understood.
She suspected it had something to do with Sullivan’s words on the way here and the fact that Fletcher had not stopped looking at her since they’d arrived. She’d caught his eye a couple of times, but seeing as she was Sullivan’s companion for the evening, they hadn’t had any actual interaction.
She had also seen Harriet earlier, with Lord Davenport hot on her tail. Though the two of them had disappeared into an exhibit room farther into the palace. Harriet hadn’t appeared all that pleased, with her features pinched.
Agnes glanced over to the wall where Fletcher stood and once again found him watching her. Her heart tightened and her stomach fluttered. The fact that every time she’d looked over to him she’d found his heated gaze locked on her made her feel hot and flustered, despite the low-cut bodice of her gown and capped sleeves, which she’d ordinarily find chilling. Did Sullivan’s idea that Fletcher was half in love with her have any merit? Was he jealous at seeing her here with another man? He’d certainly commented on Sullivan often enough, and she had to admit that he generally sounded annoyed when he did.
Suddenly, Harriet rushed by with tears in her eyes.
“If you’ll excuse me a moment, Sullivan, I’m going to see to my friend Harriet. I’m afraid she’s distressed.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
She got up and went into the direction that Harriet had disappeared and called after her. Finally, she found her exiting the entrance to the palace. Agnes called to her to stop, but Harriet just shook her head and ran off. Agnes caught up to her down the darkened path that led away from the palace.
“Harriet, wait,” Agnes called as she jogged up to meet her friend.
Harriet turned, her face red and her eyes filled with tears. Agnes remembered all the times that Harriet had embraced people when they seemed sad, so she quickly pulled her into her arms. Her friend, normally soft and jovial, felt stiff and awkward. Perhaps Agnes wasn’t that skilled at hugging. She released Harriet.
“What happened?” she asked.
“It matters not. I am being a foolish goose and want to go home,” Harriet said. Her voice quivered with emotion.
Agnes’s stomach clenched. She hated to see her friends in pain. “You can talk to me, you know.” She put her hand on Harriet’s arm.
Harriet nodded. “Perhaps tomorrow.”
“Very well. I’ll walk you to your carriage. I’m assuming it’s waiting for you?”
“Yes, just down the drive.”
They walked in silence, arm in arm. “You know I think you’re spectacular, truly,” Agnes said.
Harriet’s voice hitched as she sucked in a breath. “Thank you, Agnes.”
She helped her friend up into her carriage.
“Would you like a ride?” Harriet asked.
“Oh no, I’m here with Lord Glenbrook. I suppose I should be getting back.” She squeezed Harriet’s hand. “I shall see you tomorrow then?”
“Yes.” Harriet gave her a watery smile.
Agnes stood and watched her friend’s carriage disappear down the drive. Whatever had occurred between Harriet and Lord Davenport had distressed poor Harriet. Agnes felt certain that the two of them would resolve their issues and likely be married, or at least engaged, by the end of the Season. Lord Davenport certainly seemed hell-bent on making that happen, though Harriet waved off his advances and continued to try to find him what she deemed to be an appropriate bride.
She turned to walk back to the palace and realized it was dark out. And she was alone, far from the palace and crowds. Not necessarily her most intelligent decision, but she couldn’t leave Harriet in her moment of need.
She needed to make haste and return to the building as quickly as possible. Crickets and frogs created an orchestra around her. Fear trickled through her, settling into her belly. Even her mother, as unhelpful as she was most of the time, had warned her about not putting herself into positions where she could come to harm.
She was trained, she reminded herself. And she had a weapon on her. She slowed her breathing. All was well.
Her secret suitor.
His letter from earlier today had rattled her, that’s all this was. There was no reason to believe that her new admirer would ever try to harm her. He seemed rather enamored with her. But the fact that he insisted on keeping his identity a secret bothered her. Not to mention those flowers he’d obviously cut from within her garden walls. She shivered.
A rustling noise came from behind her. Quickly, she reached beneath the hem of her skirts and withdrew her blade.
