“I can’t be angry with you when I didn’t explain from the start who I admired. I practically forced you to help with the messages. I am sorry as well.”
Yes, she thought as she returned Frances’ hug. Staying away from Joseph was for the best. Yet the thought didn’t make her feel any better.
“I suppose we should return to the ball before Mother wonders what happened to us.”
“Right.” But Harriet intended to slip away at the first opportunity. If she couldn’t be with Joseph, she didn’t want to remain at the ball. Her heart felt as if it were breaking.
“Allow me to wash my face, and we’ll go down together.”
“Perfect.”
Frances hugged Harriet again. “You are the best friend I could ask for.”
“As are you,” Harriet replied, grateful Frances wasn’t angry with her. “Thank you for understanding.”
“We made our bold moves together, didn’t we?” Frances suggested. “After all, you helped write the messages.”
“I suppose you could say that.” Harriet returned her smile. But unless she was prepared to share her secrets, she wouldn’t be able to make a bold move.
In truth, she couldn’t imagine telling anyone about what had happened. Not even the ladies of The Mayfair Literary League. It would be best if she resigned herself to spinsterhood. That was the only option. The time with Joseph had been a pleasant encounter. Nothing more. She hoped in the coming days she could convince herself of that.
Chapter Thirteen
Late the followingmorning, Joseph prepared to leave Melbourne House along with most of the other guests. But first, he wanted to speak with Harriet.
Though they’d shared a glance or two across the ballroom after she and Miss Melbourne returned, he had the impression she was avoiding him. Each time he moved in her direction, she managed to suddenly appear on the opposite side of the ballroom.
He’d approached Miss Melbourne and offered an apology, saying he hoped he hadn’t said or done anything to offend her. She insisted he hadn’t and accepted his invitation to dance. However, based on how stiffly she moved, she seemed quite uncomfortable. She’d opened her mouth several times as if about to say something but remained silent except for responding to his attempts at conversation with brief answers.
The rest of the evening crawled by, especially once he’d realized Harriet had left the ball.
Harriet hadn’t been at breakfast either, nor had Miss Melbourne.
“Did you look to see if there was another message?” Charles had asked when Joseph shared some of what had occurred.
“I suppose I should.” Yet if the messages had been from Miss Melbourne, why would she write any additional ones?