then?”
A severe looked claimed Edward, his attention solely on her. “Do not trouble yourself with such thoughts, for the bandit will be dead in a week, Miss Groves. Then we can all go back to our lives.”
“A week?” The two syllables were all she could utter. He had made the remark so offhandedly and casually that its gravity would not take root in her mind. A week to live? Not if she killed him first. “You’re so brave, Major Roberts, so self-assured. I cannot help but feel sorry for your intended prey.”
“Don’t.” If he picked up on the insincerity in her words, he did not reveal it, hearing only what he wanted to hear. “When a man chooses the darker road, he must face the consequences.”
“Hear, hear!” A portly figure a few paces away raised his glass, causing Harriet to start back, skin prickling. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“Miss Groves,” said Edward. “This is Captain Renner.”
Another toast came at Harriet’s elbow, before their conversation was brushed aside. Others claimed the soldier’s attention. It was an easy way out, even if she resented it. Harriet’s chest was tight when she strode back across the ballroom, as though it had been bound. Another dance was about to begin, but it would spin on without her. She didn’t belong here anyway. They all knew it – and the major would soon find out. Old acquaintances and new ones glanced her way, not a single kind look, nor a welcoming word. Heavy footsteps, a graze upon her wrist, his voice, again.
“Miss Groves?”
Harriet’s steps faltered as she pushed her smile back into place. “I need a little air. It’s ever so stuffy in here.”
“Let me escort you – ”
“No,” she pulled herself away from his touch. “I can manage alone – and besides, there are so many people here you should meet, it would be selfish for me to keep you longer.”
“Then I am all for you being selfish.”
An honest grin, belonging to a girl far younger and much less jaded than herself, claimed her pointed features. “I am sure we shall run into one another again.”
Whether we like it or not.
“I shall look forward to it.” A small nod and Edward took his leave, turning back only once, leaving Harriet with only echoes of emotions, nothing fully realised, all forbidden. Once upon a time, in another far-off world with happy endings, she might have let herself fall for a man like him.
The knowledge frightened her.
A soft hand touched her elbow, wrenching an audible gasp from her, her stomach flipping.
“What’s wrong, Harriet?” It was only Aunt Georgia, her mouth puckered into a frown. “I know that look. Something’s happened – tell me.”
“Nothing,” soothed the younger woman, holding her aunt’s arm and squeezing it companionably. “Can we leave?”
“Of course, yes,” the woman said instantly, putting the back of her hand against Harriet’s forehead, testing her temperature. “But you look terribly peaky, as though someone’s walked over your grave.”
Harriet nodded blankly and was led out through another exit, her movements automatic and rigid. She had held up carriages; she had robbed the wealthiest, most corrupt souls in the city with an easy grin. She enjoyed the rush it had given her. As the Green Highwayman, she was famous; she was unstoppable. Yet that man – that Major Edward Roberts – had rattled her to her core. With only a few words he had pulled the rug from under her feet and taken her composure with it. Even now she cast a look back into the gaiety within, as if wary he would find her – and half wanting him to.
The time between when their carriage was called for and when it actually arrived felt like an age. Aunt Georgia’s worried stare was a dead weight on her shoulders, but she did not question Harriet – as they both knew she undoubtedly would – until they began moving back through Bath’s dark streets. Nothing could keep that woman from gossip.
“This isn’t like you. I shall call for the doctor the second we’re home.”
“A dizzy spell, that’s all. Sleep will aid it,” replied Harriet above the carriage’s movement. “I am sorry to worry you.”
“Harriet.”
“It is nothing.” She heard her aunt huff loudly, deprived of further information. The interrogation was far from over and Harriet knew this would be only a small lull in her demanding questions.
“Was it that Major Roberts? The militia are all the same…”
“He was a perfect gentleman.” If only he wasn’t, then she would have a real reason to hate him. Confused feelings darted around her mind like silverfish fleeing daylight. Her hands were a tight ball in her lap, for she could still feel the ghost of his grip, see the humour in his eyes.
“Oh, thank goodness, I am relieved to hear it.” Aunt Georgia beamed, sagging back against the cushions. “For he’s to be a guest at my dinner party two days from now, on the Thursday.”
“What? No,” gasped Harriet, mouth agape. “No, I can’t see him, I can’t – ”
“His mother is a good friend of mine, or at least, a friend or sorts,” amended Aunt Georgia. “I don’t think she’s good friends with anyone. She’s a prickly character.”
“I have to leave tonight. I think Father might need me. Ellen had a sore throat before I left. I should go.”
“Then you can enquire after their health when your maidservant, Mary, gets here tomorrow. We need the extra staff to cope and she’s a good worker,” said the older woman, putting an end to the discussion, as though she had not heard her niece’s protests. “It will be a splendid evening, trust me. You could even try to enjoy yourself, for a change, if the whim took you.”
“But, I…” There was nothing else Harriet could say and no excuse to be offered that would make sense. “I am looking forward to it, Aunt Georgia.”
Another evening with Major Roberts. Their third, if she counted their gunpowder-drenched meeting, when he was only a shape in the darkness, commanding she not draw back from his death if indeed she meant to kill him. The scene replayed in her head over and over, only this time her memory filled in the blanks, gave the shadow a face, a smile.
“The major is handsome, is he not?”
“He is handsome,” Harriet agreed absently. “And he is just and courageous and far too good for the likes of me.”
Aunt Georgia had a look that suggested a plan in the works and Harriet was not ignorant; she knew what the woman intended.
“Nonsense, Harriet,” said Aunt Georgia. “If anything you’re his superior, for the Groves family line stretches back centuries. Our blood is almost royalty.”
“I did not mean station.”
“Then what did you mean, dear?”
Harriet
