Chapter Twenty-Two
HARRIET WOKE LATER THAN USUAL AND ALLOWED HERSELF TO luxuriate in bed for nearly a quarter of an hour, replaying the evening before.
She felt wicked and delighted and exposed, as if the whole of the house knew what she’d done.
The whole of London, even. A knock sounded on the door and Harriet still jumped at the sound.
Her lady’s maid, Anne, slipped in and dropped a quick curtsy.
“Good morning, my lady. Lord Alexander is waiting for you in the breakfast room.”
“He is?” Harriet couldn’t help the besotted smile on her face. Anne must think her a twitterpated fool. And was she not?
Harriet tried not to rush to get ready, lest she seem even more pathetic than she already did.
Her impatience couldn’t be helped. Harriet and Alexander didn’t ordinarily break their fasts together.
They occasionally met over toast and eggs by chance, but they were not the sort of couple to moon at each other over rashers. If such a couple did exist.
Suddenly, it occurred to Harriet—and she felt quite embarrassed that it hadn’t occurred to her sooner—that he might not be in precisely the same giddy mood she was from the events of last night.
Having female company was not novel to the man; he’d had plenty of mornings-after.
Perhaps he was requesting her presence for something quotidian like her opinion on drapery, or to remind her to go over dinner menus with the housekeeper.
Perhaps he wanted to get rid of her now that he’d had her, in a certain manner?
She had offered for him to fuck her, even if they hadn’t actually done that.
Maybe he was summoning her to remind her that she shouldn’t fall for him after a simple tumble on the carpet?
Harriet shook her head. Trying to guess a man’s mind was like eating soup with a fork.
She finished dressing at a more regular speed, not having to temper herself artificially anymore, and then headed down to the breakfast room.
Alexander was there, reading the paper, bathed in sunlight like God had chosen him specifically to bestow the gift of beauty upon.
She rolled her eyes at her own inanity and headed to the spread of food, determined to appear unaffected.
Placid. Normal. Calm. Perhaps thinking of more synonyms would help. Serene.
Undisturbed. Tranquil. Agitated. Inflamed.
Blast.
Alexander had read the same sentence thrice since she walked in.
For good measure he began it a fourth time.
His brain had become a nonce—useful only for noticing her.
Or thinking of her. Or reminiscing about how she tasted.
Or imagining how she might feel riding his cock.
His mind was quite averse to any other avenue of thought.
He did his utmost to remain composed upon her arrival, despite his heartfelt desire to jump from his seat and ravish her on the breakfast table.
It had been ages since he’d fucked anyone on a table.
He felt sure she’d be delighted by the novel proposal. She was so deliciously eager.
A footman appeared with more coffee and Alexander cleared the temptation to ask Harriet what she thought of swiving on the breakfast table from his mind. She finished heaping her plate with food and turned to sit across from him.
“I thought you didn’t like kippers.”
Harriet looked at him as if he’d announced himself the next king. He gestured with his hand at her plate, which was half full of the fish. Then she looked back at him as if, somehow, he’d caused their presence.
“I … I thought I might try them again. One never knows when one’s tastes have changed,” Harriet said with unconvincing conviction.
“True enough,” Alexander said, wickedly, wishing she might tell him more about her tastes.
Harriet took the smallest possible share of a kipper and raised it to her mouth so slowly Alexander worried the fish would go bad before it got there.
She wrinkled up her nose and forced herself to take a bite.
He watched gleefully, not because it was nice to watch a woman eat kippers.
They were perhaps the least arousing food on the planet.
But because it was apparent that Harriet had been distracted enough to load her plate with them this morning, and he had the foolish hope that he might be responsible for that in some way.
Harriet chewed for a moment with disgust and then swallowed with disgust and then took a bite of buttered toast with a face full of relief.
“Are you, by chance, available today?” he asked. Harriet, glad for the distraction from pretending to like kippers, shoved her plate aside.
“I have no plans at all, in fact.”
“Wonderful. Wear your worst day dress and most comfortable footwear and meet me in an hour.”
“For what?” she asked, in the most unladylike manner. It reminded him of the comfortability he felt as a child with his brother. The lack of care at what someone might think of your words.
“A surprise, I’m afraid.”
“For me?”
“Yes, I fear anyone else would be rather disappointed with our outing.”
Harriet looked suddenly as if she’d swallowed the entire plate of kippers in one go.
“Are you all right? We don’t have to go. If you have something—”
“I’ve never had a surprise,” Harriet said, quietly.
“You haven’t?”
“I suppose I’ve been surprised by lots of things.
Meeting you in a library. That men have hair on their chests.
The size of your …” Glancing up at the footman present, Harriet swallowed and then continued: “ … town house.” She blushed deeply, no doubt realizing how liberal she’d been with her words.
Why she’d spoken of chests in front of another man. A servant, yes, but a man nevertheless.
“It is rather large, isn’t it?” Alexander asked, trying his best to keep from grinning. “And you’ve been learning to handle it so well.”
Harriet nearly choked on the tea she’d sipped to wash down her toast and the lingering taste of fish.
She flushed again, or perhaps it was a continuation of the first blush he’d seen that morning.
Either way, her rosy cheeks brought back to mind the idea of clearing the table, excusing the footmen, and seeing if she’d like to repeat last night on a different surface.
She stood abruptly, obviously both anxious to flee the room and excited for the impending surprise.
“You don’t want to finish your kippers?” Alexander called after her, barely containing his mirth.
Harriet had never been to this part of London.
So frequently did activities with Alexander underscore how small her life had been before him.
She kept her nose almost pressed against the window, willing herself to soak up the enormity of the city, the moment.
Pressuring herself to experience the excitement of novelty.
Instead, she saw close-ups of gray people and gray streets and gray buildings with dirty windows, everyone living virtually the same as what she’d experienced on the other side of the city.
“It’s not the best view,” Alexander said offhandedly. The comment made Harriet bristle in defense.
“It is if you haven’t seen it before,” Harriet replied, a little peevishly, even though she’d been thinking the same thing. She expected him to ignore her grumbling or perhaps concede her point. She did not expect him to join her at the window and look out with feigned wonder.
“Would you look there, Harriet! A town house! And farther down, there’s a horse! And another horse!” Harriet made a face at him, barely stopping herself from sticking out her tongue at his teasing.
“Now there’s a sight you don’t see in the ballrooms of Belgravia,” he said, somewhat more sincerely this time, as they passed a young couple wrapped in a passionate embrace, uncaring or unaware of the broad daylight and their ample audience.
Harriet was laughing now, embarrassed a bit by her disagreeable nature. He was surprising her, after all. “I apologize. It’s only … well, I was thinking about how men are so …”
“Attractive? Complex? Intriguing? Handsome?”
“Handsome and attractive mean the same thing.”
“Not always. Some of the most handsome men are quite repulsive.”
Harriet smiled. “No, I was thinking that everywhere I’ve gone in my life has been dictated by a man.
Allowed or disallowed by him. And any places I may go?
They’re all owned by men. The land, the houses, the horses.
I’ve never been this far east in London simply because no man has ever taken me here.
It’s rather depressing, don’t you think? ”
“I think you’re giving East London a bit too much credit.”
“Again, you’re only saying that because you’ve been! And you can go any time! You can go anywhere you want! I can only go if a man approves it!”
Alexander was quiet for a moment, contemplating this.
“All right, you may go anywhere you want.” He waited and then added, “As long as you have a proper chaperone for protection.”
Harriet rolled her eyes. “You’re proving my point, you git! I’m only able to go places if I am allowed so by a man. Even then, you’ll have me take a lady’s maid and an armed footman.”
“I am rather beastly for not wanting you to be mugged or knifed or attacked.”
“By a man,” Harriet intoned testily.
A slow smile spread across his face, an odd response to her statement. “Of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s been kidnapped, actually. And … you might find this hard to believe … my abductor was a woman.”
Harriet’s face cracked open with laughter again, further easing her nerves.
She hadn’t known how it might be with him after last night, and the uncertainty had made her feel like she was wearing a too-small and too-itchy gown.
Laughing with him in a carriage felt normal.
Odd, that. She’d only known him a couple of weeks.
The carriage slowed and Harriet looked out to see … a fish market.
“You brought me to a fish market?” she asked, trying not to sound too disappointed. “I must warn you, I sadly didn’t discover a latent love of kippers this morning.”