Unmasking Of A Lady. Sophie Dash

offering her space.

      Her bloodshot eyes sought him out.

      “I don’t…” She faltered.

      It was as though her bones had turned hollow and could not support her. Edward was there instantly, pulling her up, hands on her waist. He was impossibly warm and the shirt she wore was thin and loose, barely a barrier between them. His eyes wandered and Harriet invited it, the tips of her fingers skimming along his arms until she let them rest there, on his stained shirt sleeves, feeling the taut strength in the muscles beneath. She should move back, re-find her footing, act as a lady should. Yet, when he spoke in his soothing, low voice, all common sense dissipated.

      “There was a duel over a lost bet and once I heard who was involved, I had to intervene,” said Edward, his breath hot and heavy. His look was torn and beaten, clothes ripped and ruined. There must have been a terrible fight, for the fine threads were wrecked beyond repair. His knuckles too were split. “You are shaking, Miss Groves.”

      Harriet leant forwards, forehead pressed against his shoulder, breathing him in. “You are a good man, far better than I deserve you to be.”

      “Your brother will be fine,” he soothed her. “It’s a shoulder wound, nothing serious. There was more than one man after him, and the main cur he fought with fired and ran before he could be stopped. I will be making inquiries. I have my suspicions.”

      “Yes, thank you, for all you have done.” Harriet’s voice was muffled and small from tiredness. “He was not your responsibility and yet you brought him here anyway.”

      Due their proximity, Edward’s voice was a deep rumble in his throat and it hummed through her. “I have known men like him. He has his own troubles to shake off before he sees sense.”

      “I only pray he does.”

      “He will, if given time.” He held her – not tightly, only as a friend would – though for her it was enough. “It wasn’t so long ago that I was as foolish and reckless as your brother is now.”

      “I cannot quite believe that.”

      “Good, I shouldn’t like you to.” He smiled, though it faded quickly and silence consumed them both once more. “And, Miss Groves, what in God’s name have you got on?”

      She blinked, lashes wet, confused.

       Oh.

      “I – I was going to go out, to try and find Giddeon.” She swallowed thickly, lies thorny in her throat. “I thought I would attract less attention dressed this way, only – only – he’s here now, you see, though – yes, of course you do, for it is you who brought him.”

      “What were you thinking?” Edward’s tone was stern at first, until it evened out, as if realising how fragile Harriet still was. “You could have put yourself in danger, mixing with such people. Dear God, don’t ever consider it again.”

      “It was stupid, I know,” Harriet replied, numb, detaching herself from him and winding her arms around herself. “But I was worried. I didn’t know what else to do.”

      “You send word for me; you don’t risk your own safety.”

      “I wouldn’t want to be an imposition – ”

      “Miss Groves,” said Edward. “You would never be that.”

      A grandfather clock marked the early morning hour. An ornate rug was bunched up at their feet, marred with red-brown stains and city filth. Harriet chose to look upon it rather than Edward, who finally cleared his throat.

      “It’s time I was on my way. I will visit again soon, to see how he is, if you would have me?”

      Exhausted, mute, Harriet only nodded. If he expected a reply, he did not get it. A gusting wind slipped through the entrance and seemed to pull him from her, until the front door was slammed shut behind him and the hallway seemed all the darker without him in it.