Harriett (The Tipton Hollow 1)

An hour later, he instructed the coachman to pull up on the outskirts of the village and glanced at Harriett. “I hope you don’t mind, but I think I would like to walk the rest of the way.”

“What about your journey home? It’s a long walk back to Tipton Hollow,” Harriett replied as she slid across the seat and let Mark hand her down.

“I don’t mind. It isn’t raining and besides, I can borrow David Wood’s curricle. I can bring it back to him in the morning before he leaves for work. I have to take you to work, so it works out fine.”

Harriett knew then that he had done it more than once before and she realised just how much of a burden she was on him.

“I am sorry for the inconvenience. It must disrupt your day something horrible to have to come over here and protect me like this,” she sighed and tried to keep the despondency out of her voice. She didn’t know what was wrong with her this evening. She was hardly ever as down in the dumps as she was at that moment. She quickly blanked out the small voice that warned her that two deaths, the theft of her most treasured possession, the upheaval to her personal life from her growing affection for the man beside her and, what she now considered were Babette’s secret assignations, were more than enough for any sane person to contend with in the space of two short weeks.

“I must admit to having more than a personal interest in what is happening in Tipton Hollow at the moment.”

“Oh?” Harriett felt a flutter of nerves and couldn’t help but ask him. “Did you know Hugo or Minerva then?”

“No, I was referring to having had my attention ensnared in a way that I cannot break free from.”

“Oh?”

Mark drew her to a halt and there, beneath the gentle glow of the gas lamp, lowered his head. The soft, sweeping caress of his lips against hers made her sigh. The cool draught of air slithered up her back and made her shiver. She instinctively edged closer to his warmth and was immediately encased in his warm embrace. Her senses reeled. There was little she could do but clutch at the lapels of his jacket as he drew her ever closer. She could feel the warm press of his palm on the small of her back even through the bones in her corset. All she could do was accept his kisses and melt against him.

He swallowed her sigh and groaned at the feel of her softness against him. A small voice reminded him that they were in the middle of the village under the glare of a gas lamp, and could be seen by anyone who happened to wander by, but he couldn’t bring himself to ease away from her. His body responded to her nearness and he continued to plunder her lips while his mind raced to find somewhere they could go where they would not be disturbed. While he dallied with thoughts any upstanding gentleman should never have about a respectable woman, he sipped and savoured, devoured and plundered until she slid her hands up to the back of his neck.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It took several moments before the clip clop of hooves registered on his senses. He broke away with a curse and buried his face in the warmth of her neck to savour the scent of honeysuckle that teased his nostrils. She was a feminine bundle of curiosity that he knew would be the undoing of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care one bit. He wanted her with a fierceness that he knew would never be entirely satisfied. In that moment, he knew that if he spent the next hundred years with her it would never be enough.

Harriett gasped and looked up at him. She wasn’t sure what to say; what to do. Someone was approaching but she couldn’t seem to find the strength to break free of his hold, or the gentle fire in his eyes. She knew that he wanted to push for more, but was grateful that he wasn’t going to for now.

He eased Harriett deeper into the shadows, but made no attempt to loosen his hold and put some decorous distance between them. Instead, he continued to push her back until she rested against the brick wall of the greengrocers. Together they waited. He caught Harriett’s gasp and shushed her as a huge black horse pulled a large, nondescript, equally black carriage straight past them. He held her tighter when Harriett, shifted uncomfortably against him.

“Stand still for a minute.”

They were hidden deep in the shadows, on the right side of the street light and were close enough to the Coal Merchants to see the entrance to the yard the carriage disappeared into.

“Who is it?” Harriett whispered.

“Watch.” Mark felt the shiver that swept through her and knew that it didn’t have anything to do with the coolness of the night air. “Don’t worry, darling, you are perfectly safe.”

Harriett glanced at him. From the steady, almost expectant way he studied the doors to the coal merchant’s he knew who was going to emerge.

“You know who it is.” It wasn’t a question and Mark didn’t bother to answer it, merely tipped her chin toward the doors. Together they watched the doors close and the small, thin, darkly garbed figure appear. He, or she, was dressed from head to foot in black and fum

bled with the lock on the door for several moments before they turned and scurried off in the opposite direction. Within seconds they were swallowed by the night.

“Who lives in that direction?” Mark asked in a soft whisper. “Don’t worry, they won’t harm you.”

Harriett almost scoffed at that and wondered if she had to remind him of her near miss with that same carriage not so very long ago. Her thoughts snapped back toward him. He was waiting for her to answer. Her mind scanned the village and she thought carefully.

“The hardware store is opposite and there are just a few houses.”

“Who lives on the outskirts of town, Harriet?” Mark nodded in the direction the figure had scurried off to. “Who lives that way and is a small, bird-like person?”

“Miss Smethwick.” Harriett stared at him. Her thoughts immediately turned toward Miss Haversham’s remarks in the tea shop that Miss Smethwick seemed different; younger somehow.

“It isn’t Miss Smethwick, is it? It is someone living in her house, pretending to be her.” Harriett stared at him, and knew from the steady look he gave her that she was right. “Who is it then?”

“I don’t know, but now that I have Madame Humphries and Miss Hepplethwaite out of the way, Miss Smethwick is next on the list. Tomorrow, I am going to pay the woman another visit, and I am afraid that she is going to have some very difficult questions to answer.”

Harriett nodded and was more than a little shaken. “Do you think it was that woman who attended the psychic circles and pretended to be Miss Smethwick?”