How to Treat a Lady

She lifted onto her elbows, her gaze never wavering. “Whatever it is that you did, did you make amends?”

  “Amends?” He grabbed up his breeches, and yanked them on. “There was no way to make amends for this.”

  She sat the rest of the way up and wrapped her arms around her knees. In the indirect light, her brown hair falling over her shoulders, her eyes wide and solemn, she looked like a pixie. “But you tried to fix things?”

  He nodded once, hating himself, hating that he was having this conversation with Harriet, of all people. Bloody hell, life was not fair. He found his shirt and yanked it over his head.

  She shrugged. “Then that’s all you can do.”

  He had just picked up one of his boots. He stopped and turned to face her. “Do you believe that?”

  “If you try your best, then no one can ask for more.”

  Chase looked at her for a long moment. “I wish I could believe that. And maybe it’s true for other people, but I’m a St. John, born with every conceivable benefit. There are no excuses for my actions.”

  “What exactly did you do?”

  “I…” The words pushed at him, begging for release. He swallowed, then closed his eyes. “I killed someone.”

  Silence. He forced his eyes open, ready to read the condemnation in her eyes.

  She met his gaze, her face pale.

  “I didn’t mean to,” he gritted out. “I didn’t. I was careening drunkenly through the streets of London in my new carriage. I ran over a woman. She…” He gave a helpless shrug as his eyes grew hot.

  Harriet’s eyes were already wet. “Oh, Chase,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “So am I. I was with…not a friend. But a person I knew. When the accident happened, I pulled the horses to and started to get out to see if the woman needed assistance. But my companion panicked and began screaming at me to drive on. I was drunk and frightened and…I did.”

  “Did you go back?”

  “As soon as I was sober enough to realize what had happened. The man I was with, he helped search for her, too. He visited the hospitals and I spoke to every person I saw on that street, but we never found her.”

  Chase turned away from Harriet and pulled on his boots. He didn’t think he could stand seeing the disappointment in her eyes. “I was on my way out of the country when I came here.”

  “Out of the country…Why?”

  “The companion I was with that night has been steadily draining me of funds ever since the accident. I decided the time had come to face my demons.”

  “By running away?”

  “By protecting my family from scandal. My brothers and sister do not know the truth. I couldn’t tell them.” Chase picked up Harriet’s gown and shift and draped them over the edge of a stall.

  “You need to tell them.”

  “It is better if no one knows.”

  She regarded him steadily. “You are the one who told me that I was not doing my family any favors by taking care of them. Perhaps you should heed your own advice.”

  Chase wiped a hand over his eyes. He had said that. And for Harriet, it made sense. But for him? “I’m not sure why I told you about it. I-I haven’t told anyone.”

  “Perhaps it is practice, for when you face your family.” There was a rustle of hay as Harriet stood and made her way to the water bucket. Water plopped in fat drips to the ground as she washed.

  Chase watched her silently, noting the lush curve of her backside, the tight muscles of her calf. She was a nymph of ancient lore, washing herself at the bucket, the slanted afternoon light that cut through the cracks in the barn walls stripping across her smooth creamy skin and touching her hair with gold. But for all that her outer beauty tantalized him, it was her inner beauty that held him, captured him, and refused to release him. The unfairness of his situation cut to his soul. Damn it, why had he met her now, when he had no choice but to leave?

  Chase turned toward the barn door, his chest tight. “I should go and see if Stephen and Derrick need any help.”

  “What you should do,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice that brooked no argument, “is pack your things and get yourself home as soon as possible. You cannot run from yourself, you know.” There was a soft whisper as she pulled her clothing from where Chase had hung them and began to dress.

  Chase stiffened. “I’m not running. I am—”

  “Running.”

  She was right, and he knew it.

  “You made a mistake, Chase. We all make mistakes.”

  “Not mistakes that cost lives.”

  “No. But whatever our mistakes are, they weren’t performed because of malicious intent. They happened because we were careless or didn’t realize the consequences of our actions.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Isn’t it?” She came to stand before him, calmly pinning her hair. “Tell me what you’ve been doing since this accident.”

  “Doing? I don’t know. I suppose I’ve been drinking. Trying to forget—”

  “You’ve been wallowing in a sea of self-pity. That is your grossest error.”

  Chase didn’t know what to say. She looked so damnably sure of herself. He envied her in that moment, envied her calm certainty about life, her intrepid spirit, her refusal to let life sour her spirits. He wondered how he’d been so fortunate as to have met her. “You, Harriet Ward, are an exceptional woman.”

  Color flooded her cheeks. “I’m nothing special,” she said gruffly.

  “Really? Do you not run this entire estate all by yourself?”

  She laughed, the light slanting over her sparkling eyes. “No. Garrett Park is run by committee. Derrick is in charge of household repairs. He’s very talented at tinkering with things. Stephen is in charge of keeping up the stables. He’s always been good with horses, though we had to sell most of them three years ago.”

  “What a pity.”

  “Yes, Stephen was devastated, though he refused to admit it.”

  “What do your sisters do?”

  “Sophia helps with the books. She’s almost as good at figures as she is at playwriting.” A faint smile softened the line of Harriet’s mouth. “Better, in fact, though I’d never tell her that.”

  “And your mother?”

  “Who do you think sees to it that we all have fresh linens every week? That the meat is cooked well and the floors always scrubbed? She makes sure there is enough so that we can eat through the winter, and she spoils us with clothes that she herself sews.”

  When he stopped to think about it, it was amazing how this family, left in near poverty and distress, had banded together to make a success out of their seemingly dire straits. But he supposed he understood that concept—in a way, his brothers were never closer than when facing adversity. “What does the intrepid Ophelia do?”

  “She sees to it that we are not remiss in our attention to our neighbors.”

  He frowned. After hearing of the contributions of the others, that seemed far less than important.

  His thoughts must have been evident on his face, for Harriet sent him a sharp frown. “Ophelia spends a good portion of every year helping Cook with the herbs. She also makes Christmas gifts for our neighbors. She does far more than her fair share.”

  “Gifts? Why bother with gifts?”

  She turned to fix a gimlet stare on his face. “Neighbors, Mr. St. John, are important to us all. When our plow horse strained her foreleg in the midst of spring plowing, our neighbor to the west, Baron Whitfield, sent one of his horses to take her place. When Ophelia became ill and we needed medicine, but were unable to get to town because it had snowed so deeply that our poor farm mare could not make it out the drive, Mr. Nash came to our aid. He made the trip to town himself, wrapped head to foot in wool and riding in an old farmer’s cart to cut through the roads.”

  She eyed Chase up and down, as if uncertain whether to spit on him or kick his shins. “I can give you other examples, if you’d like.”

  “No. No, that won?
??t be necessary. I had just forgotten—” He raked a hand through his hair. He couldn’t forget what he’d never known. The St. Johns were the community. Not a mere part of it.

  Harriet turned and made her way to the door. She grabbed the bar and lifted it to one side, then pulled the door open. Sunlight flooded the barn, turning the hay to spun gold.

  Her gaze fell on the pile of shears and she laughed. “I almost forgot those.”

  Her eyes crinkled and her mouth curved in such a beguiling fashion. He caught her amused look and an unaccustomed heat traveled up his neck.

  She straightened, her gaze suddenly fixed on the driveway. “Someone is coming. I think—oh, it’s just the cart from the inn. Mother must have asked them to send some spiced wine.”

  Chase glanced indifferently at the cart, watching as Derrick walked up to speak to the driver. They spoke for a moment, then Derrick gestured toward the barn. The man looked toward Harriet and Chase, nodded once, then hawed the horses on.

  Harriet frowned. “I wonder what that was about?”

  Derrick stood in the drive, watching the cart rumble away before he walked toward them. “That was strange,” he said on reaching them.

  “What did he want?” Harriet asked.

  “He said he’d heard about the captain and wondered if he could meet him.” Derrick flickered a gaze at Chase. “He was wondering if you were the same Captain Frakenham that he sailed with two years ago.”

  “I doubt it,” Chase said.

  “That’s what I said,” Derrick returned, a disturbed look in his eyes. “I even pointed you out, thinking that would turn him. But instead, he seemed to recognize you.”

  Chase frowned. “Are you certain?”

  “I think so. He nodded as if you looked exactly the way he’d expected you to. But then, when I offered to introduce you, he said that wouldn’t be necessary.”

  Harriet sighed. “I wonder if Mr. Gower is up to his tricks again.”

  “I can’t imagine how,” Chase said. “But if so, he’s too late. We’ll be done with the shearing in another two days and he won’t be able to do a thing to you after that.”

  Derrick nodded, a relieved look on his face. “That’s true. Well, I’d best get back to the pens. I have some shearing to do.” He grabbed a set of shears and then walked away, whistling a sprightly tune.

  “I must help,” Harriet said, collecting the other shears. She turned to go, but Chase caught her wrist.

  Against her brown skin the talisman ring glittered as if jewel-encrusted. “You wore this to irk me.”

  She bit her lip. “Actually, I can’t get it off. I haven’t been able to get it off since the first time I put it on.” She grasped it with her other hand and pulled and pulled, but the ring would not budge. She stopped and sighed. “I tried butter and oil, but it’s stuck.”

  Chase looked down at her fingers. They seemed so slender beneath the heavy silver band. He lifted her hand in his and gently tugged on the ring. It hung for a second, as if not wanting to move. But then it released and easily slid off her finger.

  Harriet’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. “How did—I tried so hard! I can’t believe you just—Oh, piffle!”

  Chase looked at the ring. Mother had said that it would lead the possessor to his one true love. Could it be—

  “Harri!” Stephen and Sophia waved from across the barn yard.

  Harriet sighed. “Time to get back to work, I suppose.”

  “Yes, it is.” At least for today. “Harriet, about the ring. Perhaps you should—”

  “No. It belongs with you. I—”

  Stephen and Sophia called again and Harriet sighed. “I have to go. We’ll discuss this later.”

  Chase nodded and watched as she joined her brother and sister. Chase wondered if the ring felt as bereft as he did. His fingers curled over it.

  After a moment, he slipped it into his pocket and went to help Derrick with the shearing.

  This time, Chase worked as hard as he could, though his mind never stopped mulling over the thorny problem that faced him.

  He was beginning to care far too much for Harriet Ward. He had to leave Garrett Park. And soon.

  Chapter 25

  Bloody hell, can’t you get this contraption to go any faster?

  Mr. Devon St. John to Little Bob, the coachman, as they rumbled through the dark

  That day and the next, Chase worked harder than he had ever worked in his life. Derrick had at first asked what the hurry was, but had soon gotten into the spirit of things, and it was with huge satisfaction that they stood two nights later and looked at the bales of wool that filled the barn. They’d had to move the horses to the shed for the night, just to make room for it all.

  They were almost finished. The time had come for Chase to leave. Sighing, Chase hung the lantern on a nail and pulled a pair of gloves from his back pocket and tugged them on.

  Derrick groaned. “We don’t have to stack the bales tonight.”

  Chase looked at the untidy bundles of wool that littered the barn. “I’m going to at least get them sorted into wagonloads.”

  “That will take hours.”

  “I haven’t anything better to do.”

  “I have.” Derrick put his hands on his hips and stretched, then groaned. “I’m going to get a hot bath, then go to bed. If I don’t, I won’t be able to move tomorrow.”

  Chase smiled. “You’re going inside to read a book. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

  “Oh, all right,” Derrick said with a lopsided grin. “I was going to read a little. But I was also going to take a bath, and I really am sore.”

  “We all are.” The sun had set an hour ago, and now all that was left was one last dinner with the Wards. For some reason, the thought of facing them seemed impossible. It would be better if he just quietly went away. His good humor slipped a notch, then disappeared altogether. “Go on to the house. I’ll do what I can before dinner and join you then.”

  “Very well,” Derrick said. He walked toward the barn door, then hesitated. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to say—well, you’ve worked hard and you didn’t need to.”

  “Of course I needed to. We’ve a payment to make on Garrett Park, don’t we?”

  “We.” Derrick smiled. “Yes, we do. Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” Chase watched as Derrick walked out the door. A murmur of voices in the yard and the glimmer of a lantern through the cracks in the walls told him that Harriet was on her way. She appeared a moment later, Stephen by her side.

  If Chase looked weary, so did Harriet. Her eyes were shadowed, her shoulders stooped. He could almost feel the weariness seep from her.

  Stephen stepped forward. “There you are, Chase. We did well today, didn’t we? Harri says we’re a good day ahead of schedule.”

  “We did very well.” Chase picked up a bundle of wool and stacked it on a neat pile by the back wall. “I daresay we won’t have more than a few hours of work left in the morning. We’ll have the wool ready for market two days ahead of schedule.”

  Stephen grinned. “I cannot wait to see Gower’s face when we make that final payment.”

  Chase straightened, trying not to look at Harriet, who stood quietly inside the door. “Stephen, I have something for you.”

  “What?”

  “The clothing that is in my wardrobe.”

  “B—but that’s your clothing!”

  “Indeed it is. I’ve been wearing your clothes, so now is the time for you to wear mine.”

  “But—why?”

  “Wear them when you go to town tomorrow and make certain Miss Strickton sees you. If she is impressed with that popinjay you were telling me about, she’ll be quite smitten with you. You can even ride my horse.”

  Stephen’s eyes brightened. “By Jove, that’s the very thing! Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Of course I don’t mind. I have plenty more clothes where those came from.” So many that he was almost embarrassed to th
ink about it. Strange how things had changed. How he had changed.

  “Do you mind if I look at them now?” Stephen said eagerly. “I’d like to try on your blue coat. Oh, and those buff breeches! Those are quite the thing. And the wine-colored waistcoat is—”

  “Go!” Chase laughed. “You may try them all on.”

  Stephen turned, then stopped when he saw Harriet. “Oh! Almost forgot you, Harri. Here. I’ll leave the lantern so you can see your way to the house.” He handed her the lantern, then hurried off.

  Chase began stacking the bundles once more, wondering what he should say. What he could say.

  Silence hung loud and heavy, and then Harriet walked farther inside the barn. She set the lantern on the ground by the loft pole and surveyed the bundles of wool for a long moment. “We did well today.”

  “Yes, we did.” Chase didn’t trust himself to look at her. Not now. Not ever.

  She was silent a moment more, watching as he piled the bundles higher. Finally she said, “I will see you at dinner.”

  It wasn’t a question, so Chase didn’t answer it. Clenching his teeth, he continued stacking the bales. God, but it would be hard, leaving her tomorrow. Leaving everything at Garrett Park. But what else could he do?

  A moment later, he heard her give a soft sigh before moving toward the door. “Harriet—” The word was torn from him. He turned to face her.

  She stood by the door, her back to him. “Yes?”

  Her voice sifted gently to him, a whisper of silk on the silence of the night. Chase closed his eyes, his chest so tight that it ached. But what could he say? That he loved her?

  The thought slammed into his heart and sucked all his breath from his lungs. He loved Harriet. Loved her so much that the thought of being separated from her made him ache with a physical pain. He loved her and needed her, but love wasn’t enough. What if he couldn’t get forgiveness from his family for his sins? What if he became an outcast, a pariah? He would never put that burden on another soul.

  Especially not on Harriet. “Good night, Harriet. I’m not coming to dinner this evening.”

  She didn’t move for so long that he wondered if she’d heard him. But then she sighed and nodded. The next instant, she was gone.