Chapter 14 #3
He found blankets and a pillow atop one of the chairs in front of the fire, then decided that making up what promised to be a very comfortable bed could wait until he’d warmed up and perhaps done as advised and had a bit of a think about possible suspects.
Aside from the lad pursuing Penitence Chase with less-than-honorable intentions, he couldn’t think of anyone in the past who would have followed them to the present day and been either canny enough or patient enough to be their man.
Perhaps there weren’t all that many things he and Theo had done well over the past seven years, but, as he’d already reminded himself earlier that day, treading very lightly and leaving no trace of their passing had been their paramount concern.
After all, it didn’t take all that much to alter the course of things, did it? A little nudge here, a whisper there, a note falling out of a fan or gauntlet that spoke of true love when the man or woman in question was too shy to do the same?
But anything else stronger? Not if they’d been able to help it, that was for damned certain.
He also suspected that not even Scotland Yard could have broken into the safe they’d hidden in the wall behind a bookcase that contained their hastily copied parish records and notes taken during fancy dress balls.
The pinboard was alarming, true, but those were certainties.
The safe held possibilities and probabilities and potentials for things to go awry.
It was also a treasure-trove of beginnings.
He shook his head and sat down on the sofa with a deep sigh.
He was admittedly a romantic. His cousins, including Maryanne, likely would have mocked him for his fanciful musings if they’d known the extent of them, but he couldn’t help himself.
There was nothing to equal a good love story.
He was actually grateful he was able to have even the slightest hand in any of the ones he’d witnessed.
His musings were interrupted by the sound of a light footstep.
He looked past the hearth to see a slight figure coming down the stairs and pushed himself to his feet because he was a knight of the realm with decent manners instilled in him by his father and polished by his mother, then had to fight his smile at the sight that greeted him.
Harriet was wearing something that had to have been her mother’s.
He’d thought her nighttime attire thanks to Francine Collins had been adorable, but the pink robe with the matching pink feathery collar she had on had taken that to entirely new levels of splendidness.
She had her arms full of things he supposed might have been for his comfort, which he appreciated.
She also looked as if she’d been through a bit of a shock, which he understood.
They hadn’t had a chance to speak before her parents had hustled her off to the second bedchamber upstairs, then bid him a goodnight and retired, but he could well imagine the questions she would have.
He crossed the ten steps it took to reach her, then simply took her burdens from her. He looked at what he was holding, then at her with a fair bit of alarm.
“My dad sent along his extra pair of pajamas,” she offered. “I think the Union Flag t-shirt is meant to make you feel at home. The blanket is just a blanket.”
Sam smiled briefly, then walked back the way he’d come to set everything down on a cozy-looking armchair. He tossed another log on the fire, then went to stand next to the couch.
“Would you like to stay for a bit?” he asked carefully.
She nodded and walked over to perch on the edge of the couch as far away from where he might sit as possible. He sat down, kept his hands in plain sight, and wondered just where a man should begin in speaking of things that a lovely, sensible woman might possibly want to discuss.
He suspected his carefully crafted bit of anonymity might be soon flying out of his hand just as his sword had a pair of hours ago.
It wasn’t Harriet’s fault, of course. He just wished he could have prevented her from seeing things she hadn’t needed to and kept her from being involved in things she never should have come close to.
He hardly dared think how greatly he wished she could be involved merely in his life, for his heart’s sake.
He ignored the very loud, if wishes were fishes that tolled in his empty head, then sent a mild mental epitaph his aunt Abigail’s way for her way of stating those sorts of things with a seriousness that better suited a vaunted sage before she laughed a little and went on with her business.
He also reminded himself that he and Mistress Harriet were just friends and no doubt destined to stay that way.
But that proper dinner date, perhaps after the madness was seen to and she’d suffered through his brother’s foul self for that se’nnight of scribbling yet to come.
One date. A simple dinner with no relatives, ruffians, or restraints on how often he smiled over the ever-lengthening list of things he liked about her.
But first he would see that she was warm, comfortable, and had at least a few easy answers to satisfy her.