He stood there for a long moment, trying to cool his ardor. The bulge in his trousers would give him away unless he managed to think of something other than the feel of Harriet in his arms. He counted backward from a hundred until he felt certain his desire wouldn’t be noticeable.
Then he, too, returned to the drawing room. The evening was going to be a long one, but any time spent in the same room with her was welcome.
Chapter Eleven
The next day flew byas if on wings. Harriet and Frances were asked to do all manner of things in preparation for the ball. They directed the staff where to set the large vases of flowers they’d arranged along with other decorations around the ballroom. There were last-minute decisions to make about the light supper and desserts that would be served as well as where to place the tables that would hold the refreshments.
Despite being busy, Harriet’s thoughts were frequently filled with Joseph. She couldn’t believe how bold she had been. Their flirtatious touching during dinner had been like a forbidden delight. Once they started, she couldn’t seem to stop.
To think that Joseph had read her mind and joined her in the library was even more of a thrill. In her mind, that proved how taken they were with one another.
Those moments in his arms and the way he had kissed her were something she would never forget.
But she still couldn’t see how this would end well. And there was no doubt it would come to an end.
The thought was discouraging, but she did her best to push it aside. The time for endings would come too quickly. But today was for celebration.
Soon, the time came for them to dress for the ball.
Frances was giddy with excitement, seeming to have set aside her displeasure with Harriet. Her enthusiasm only made Harriet more determined to do everything in her power not to ruin the evening for her.
Sally helped Frances prepare first before coming to Harriet’s room.
“Miss Melbourne is so excited,” Sally reported. “She looks especially lovely this evening if I do say so myself.”
Harriet laughed. “I’m certain you had a hand in it. I look forward to seeing her gown.”
“Yours is beautiful as well,” she said as she fingered the lace insert that would cover Harriet’s scars.
Sally had commented on them the first time she’d helped Harriet undress.
“How terrible, my lady. What happened?” the maid had asked as she stared in dismay at Harriet’s chest.
Harriet had run a finger along them as memories filled her of that terrible night. “A result of hot tea.”
She was tempted to explain just how the tea had landed on her chest but had learned not to. Mentioning her stepfather’s involvement only seemed to give him more power over her life. That was something she refused to do.