brothers grinned. His stepsister smiled with relief. His children rubbed their hands. His father scowled.
It was time for the speeches. The best man spoke, the bride and groom talked eloquently. Various other guests proposed toasts. Darius was barely aware of it. He was conscious only of Harriet beside him, wondering if she was remembering the joy of her own wedding, and the marriage that had ended in tragedy. But he could detect nothing in her manner that gave him a clue. Her barriers were in place.
He’d meant it when he’d told his father that he didn’t feel deceived that she had kept her secrets. It was yet more proof of their special friendship that he made no claims on her, demanded no rights.
But he knew a faint sadness that she hadn’t felt able to confide in him.
Your fault, he told himself. If you’d shut up talking about yourself for five minutes she might get a word in edgeways.
That eased his mind briefly, but he could remember a couple of times when the talk had strayed to her husband and she’d diverted it to something else. The truth was she didn’t want to open up to him. That was her right. He’d said so and he believed it. But it hurt.
Nor could he entirely escape the suspicion that if she hadn’t warned him off he would have sought more than friendship. She was beautiful, not conventionally, like other women, but with a mysterious enchantment that came from within and that beckoned him on.
He’d made promises about keeping his distance but, with a woman like this, how could a real man keep such insane promises?
Now waiters were clearing away for the dancing. The bridal couple took the floor and were soon joined by the rest of the crowd.
‘This time I’m seizing you first,’ Darius said firmly. ‘Before I get trampled in the rush.’
‘Nonsense,’ she said tenderly.
‘It isn’t nonsense. Of course it’s nice when the lady on your arm turns out to be the belle of the ball, but it has its troublesome moments too. I don’t like sharing.’
‘Neither do I, but we both have to do our social duty.’
‘Ah, I see. You’ve gone into teasing mode.’
‘Why not? I enjoy new experiences and, after all, you brought me here to help stage a performance. Think of me as a piece of stage scenery. Under this dress I’m just wood and plaster. Hey, what are you doing?’
‘Just checking the stage scenery,’ he said, letting his hand drift around her waist until it sank immodestly over her hips. ‘It doesn’t feel like any wood and plaster I’ve ever known.’
It was shocking and she knew she should tell him to move his hand from where it lay over the smooth grey silk, softly caressing the movements against his fingers. But a little pulse was beating in her throat and she couldn’t get the words out. And probably nobody could see it in the crowd, she reassured herself.
She was suffused by a warmth and sweetness so intense that it made her dizzy. She wanted to dance like this for ever, his arms around her, his body close to hers, and never have to think of anything else again.
The music was slowing, couples were pulling apart. Marcel presented himself expectantly.
‘Go to blazes,’ Darius told him pleasantly.
‘Certainly,’ Marcel said, and vanished.
Harriet was barely aware of Marcel, or any of their surroundings. Lost in a dream, she let herself drift into a new world, refusing to heed the warnings of danger, although she knew that danger would intrude in the end. But let it, she thought. First she would have her moment, and cherish its memory to see her through the dark times.
With a sigh, she felt his movements slow as this dance too came to an end, and she knew that he would not claim her again. The moment had come and gone until, perhaps, another time.
Harriet wondered if it could possibly have been the same for him, but when she looked into his face she saw that it was troubled.
‘What’s on your mind?’ she asked. ‘Something’s worrying you. I know it. Tell me.’
For a moment he hesitated on the verge of telling her about his father and what he’d learned, but then he backed off, unable to risk hurting her.
‘Can’t you tell your friend what’s wrong?’ she asked gently.
Once, younger and more careless, he’d joked that at all costs a man should avoid a woman who understood him too well. How often had he avoided Mary’s piercing mental gaze! Yet with this woman he only felt a renewed sense of comfort, as though her hand had once again stretched out to offer safety.
‘No,’ he said softly. ‘Nothing is wrong.’ And at that moment he meant it.
It was just like his brothers to barge in, he thought, finally yielding to Marcel. But there was always later. Patience would bring him everything.
After that they both concentrated on their social duty. Harriet was never short of partners, until finally she glanced up to find Amos approaching, the very picture of geniality.
‘I’ve been hoping to dance with you but there were so many men ahead of me.’ He held out his hand. ‘Please say I’m not too late.’
‘Of course not,’ she said, smiling and taking his hand.
Heads turned as he led her onto the floor, the crowd parted for them, and there was a smattering of applause as he drew her into the dance. Darius, passing the time with Freya, turned his head casually, then grew tense.
‘What the devil—?’ he breathed.
‘He seems quite charmed with Harriet,’ Freya said. ‘Look at the way he’s smiling, practically welcoming her into the family.’ She gave Darius an amused look. ‘I should be grateful to her, really. It helps take the pressure off me, brother, dear.’
‘Look at them,’ he said distractedly. ‘Why is he laughing like that?’
‘She’s laughing too,’ Freya pointed out. ‘Obviously they’re getting on well. He can be so grim, it’s nice to see him putting himself out to be nice to her.’
But for Darius, who knew what really lay behind Amos’s ‘charm’, every moment was torment. He was trying to lure Harriet into a trap, hoping she would say something he could use against her. Darius had often seen him wear a pleasant mask as long as it could be useful, and had thought little of it.
But this was different. This was Harriet—great-hearted, innocent, vulnerable—and he was filled with desire to protect her at all costs.
‘Dance with me,’ he said, taking Freya’s hand.
She was too astute to mistake his motive, especially when she realised how determinedly he steered her in the direction of the other couple.
‘Is this near enough for you?’ she asked.
‘Only just. Can you hear what he’s saying?’
‘Something about a shop on Herringdean—an antique
