Discovering the Devil

T w e n t y - t w o

XXII

HARRY had faced several challenging situations in his life (he'd stared down the barrel of a gun just a few weeks before) but he had never found himself in a predicament quite like this.

In a way, it was a relief. It would be easier for her to resent him than to confront what was between them. If she refused to speak about Lady Holt with him again, he could excuse himself out of taking his former lover's advice. Even though Melody had claimed to cherish their affair, he wasn't sure he could take the same chance with Penelope. However, the relief Harry felt was superseded by the way his chest stung when he looked into her eyes. He had wounded her deeply. He reckoned that the jealousy he bore for her and Lord Vatterly could not compare to feelings ignited over what looked like the rekindling of a lost love. The longer dinner wore on, the more determined Harry grew to explain his story. He told himself that he'd take the first opportunity after supper was finished, but Miss Redwood was quick to leave the table. She did not even stop to bid her suitor goodbye.

Finally, Berkeley's two uninvited visitors sensed their time had come to a close. They gave their goodbyes shortly after dinner had finished. They all retired to the drawing room after the Holts and Vatterly had gone.

"Are you going to tell us who that woman was, or are we going to have to beg you?" Percy asked.
Harry ignored him. "Charlotte, would you mind telling me where my housekeeper's rooms are?"

"I would be the worst hostess in the world if I let you go to her door at this hour," Charlotte replied. "Besides, I cannot betray her trust."

"Please, Charlotte. It's important."

She merely raised a brow. "Might this have anything to do with Lord Holt's wife?"

"She'll tell you where Penelope's door is if you tell us what happened between you and Lady Holt," Percy interjected.

"I will do no such thing," Charlotte said. After a pause, she added, "But I might be inclined to pass along a message if you do."

Harry pursed his lips. "I have to wonder when all of you decided to stop treating me like your friend."

"We are your friends," Zachary said. "Which is why we value honesty."

Harry shook his head. "Telling you about her would be a breach of my word. And anyway, I can't understand why all of you are so hungry for details. At any rate, I'm sure you can guess."

"I find it very hard to believe that you would cavort with a married woman," Emma said. Pause. "Unless she was unmarried when you met her."

"No comment."

His friends prodded him for information, but Harry would not be swayed. All he wanted to do was explain himself to Miss Redwood. True to her word, Charlotte refused to give up where his housekeeper resided. When Harry sent up a servant with a message, she did not come down. It wasn't surprising, but it didn't prevent Harry from feeling disappointed. When they all retired for the evening, Harry couldn't shake his restlessness. In an attempt to stifle it, he left his bedroom and went to the terrace.

And there she was.

Miss Redwood leaned against the balcony, face toward the night sky, as her nightgown billowed in the breeze. Harry wasted no time closing the distance between them.

"Miss Redwood."

She spun around as soon as he addressed her: "I should go back to bed," she said coldly. "Goodnight, Lord Hawthorne."

"I met Lady Holt when I was twenty-five," Harry blurted.

Miss Redwood took a step toward the door. "I don't want to know how you met her. I don't care either."