Chapter Twelve

February 9, 1818

H attie awoke from the doze she'd fallen into with a start. Sweat had formed on her brow and her heartbeat raced from residual terror. No matter how long she stared into the cheerful fire dancing behind the ornamental grate in the drawing room, her body refused to calm.

She'd dreamed again of the lion man, and this time, he was squarely in danger. Though she didn't remember much of the dream, the hint of something foul was at play. There had been a scuffle then when the mists cleared, they were outside in an open space, and everyone there was dressed in finery as if they attended a ball, but how was that possible outside and in the snow? Then the silence of the night was shattered by the report of a pistol, and she had the distinct sensation in the pit of her belly that she would lose… everything.

That feeling even now plagued her, and it brought tears to her eyes, for what she didn't know and couldn't fathom, but she knew an extreme urge to see her husband… except he was away from the house attending to business and a meeting with his solicitor.

A discreet clearing of a throat at the door wrenched Hattie from her thoughts. "Mrs. Huxley, there is a Lady Ashbury here to see you."

I could use the distraction. "Please show her in, Hobbs, and thank you." She rose from the chair she'd curled up in and smoothed her hands down the front of her day dress. It was one of several new frocks she'd ordered after she'd married and with Simon's encouragement. Today, the lightweight wool blend of a raspberry color gave her a sense of cheer.

"Ah, Mrs. Huxley, I'm so glad you are at home." The viscountess rushed into the room with an envelope in her hand. "I received this just now from the Countess of Pennington, and she asked me to deliver it directly to you."

Hattie frowned. "What is it?"

"An invitation to her Valentine's Day ball. It seems that ever since Pennington married her last fall, he can deny her nothing, so after the success of their Christmas dinner party, when she wished to hold a ball, they decided to throw it on Valentine's Day."

"That's so lovely!" Hattie accepted the envelope with a grin. "I do so enjoy balls." And the opportunity to glimpse Simon in his evening attire was a boon. "I've just had a couple of new gowns delivered yesterday. I'm sure one of them will be perfect."

"I am looking forward to it as well, and from what I understand, they have invited a handful of their friends and acquaintances made through the Lyon's Den. Our husbands might have been skilled at the tables there, but the friendships formed go deep." The viscountess dropped onto a low sofa and arranged her skirting about her. "And having them about makes Thomas happy, and therefore I am happy."

"I understand that." Hattie slipped onto a chair near the other woman's location. "If I'm being honest, I'm not certain Simon has been perfectly happy since he left the navy."

"On that note, how are the two of you getting on?" One of her red eyebrows rose in question. "I heard a snippet of gossip the other day of the captain and a young man racing neck or nothing through the streets of Mayfair in the early hours of the morning, and I began to wonder."

Heat went through Hattie's cheeks. "It's scandal for a woman to ride astride and at such a pace, in Mayfair to boot, but Samuel suggested I dress as a boy so we could ride together." Unable to tamp it down, she grinned. "It truly was the best gift."

"Ah, then you have found common ground with him?"

"Perhaps." There were some things she didn't want to discuss with someone else, like when Simon had told her of how he'd lost his eye and he'd shown her a bit of vulnerability, which was the first crack in his armor she'd detected. It had made him more… approachable.

The viscountess leaned forward with expectation and curiosity in her eyes. "Have you…" A slight blush went through her cheeks. "Are you and him husband and wife in every sense of the word? When last we spoke—"

"Stop." Hattie put up a hand with an awkward laugh. "We have."

"And?"

Merciful heavens. "It was everything I'd hoped for and more," she said in a rushed whisper that ended in a giggle. "He is quite delicious."

"I'll wager he is," Lady Ashbury said in a dreamy sort of voice. "That body alone…" Then she gave her head a little shake. "Of course, I think the same of my husband." But she fanned her face with a hand. "Will you fall in love with him, do you think?"

Even if she didn't believe in the sentiment, is that what she wanted? "That isn't something I'm sure of. He and I are still very much guarded around each other. There are secrets we're both keeping, but trust is being won little by little."

"That is a good start." The other woman smiled. "Keep going. Some men are more difficult to crack than others, but the captain seems as if he is a fine and upstanding man, with plenty of honor."

"He is lovely." Worry crept in to steal some of that bubbly happiness. "I keep dreaming of him."

"I'll wager you do."

Another round of heat slapped at her cheeks. "Not in that way." Although, there had been a few steamy scenes she'd awoken in the middle of. "In those dreams, he is a lion and is being threatened by an unknown source with a pistol. I wake in fear for him." Quickly, she explained about her sixth sense and prophetic dreams. "I, uh, usually don't tell anyone about these things." In truth, the knots in her stomach told her she might have said too much.

"That is quite… interesting." Curiosity lay stamped on the other woman's face. "Do your dreams often come true?"

"Sometimes they do." She spoke in a barely audible whisper. "I had to say something; I'm frightened for him."

"That is understandable. I suppose the best you can do is continue telling the captain about your dreams and your fears. At least he is warned, and if worse comes to worse, his friends will rally around him." The viscountess offered a soft smile. "Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for listening and not telling me I'm mad in my upper stories." That would have been what her mother would surely have said.

"There are many different people who make up our world. We needn't be the same to be friends. Meanwhile, there is the ball to look forward to, and I'm always available to talk. Above all, trust him and have faith that everything will work out."

"And if it doesn't?" A sick sort of feeling rose in her throat. "I… I don't want to lose him," she admitted in a choked whisper. Did that mean she was coming to care for him far too much than was good for her?

"Oh, you are in that confusing stage of a relationship where you are fighting what is and what you want. I remember that all too well." The viscountess leaned forward and patted Hattie's knee. "Don't fret too much. The captain won't do anything to put either of you into danger, but this might mean something wonderful is on the horizon for you."

"How do you figure?"

She shrugged. "Any good romance has to have a challenge to overcome before fate deems you worthy of a lifetime." Then she gave a self-indulgent laugh. "This is so exciting!" Before Hattie could respond, the other woman launched into a story of how she'd been falling in love with her husband and the argument that had nearly torn them apart last Christmastide.

By the time Lady Ashbury left, Hattie was in a better frame of mind. So much so that she willingly practiced memorizing a piece of popular operatic music on her flute. Midway through, she broke off when Simon came into the drawing room.

She shot him a grin. "I wasn't expecting you until dinner."

"To be honest, I found I missed being here, so I rushed through my meeting with the solicitor and postponed the next one on my schedule in order to come home." When he returned the grin, flutters went through her belly. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not." It wasn't a secret she enjoyed the company of men, but never had she felt warmed from the inside out merely because one of them came into a room. "Do you want me to cease playing?"

"No! You are doing so well." He drifted over to her location and stood behind her to peer at the sheet music on her stand. "Ah, fantastic piece, and I actually know this one."

"You do?"

"Yes. I, er, learned it onboard my ship. Shall I sing along while you play accompaniment?"

"You can sing?" Pleasure drifted through her blood in lazy curls.

"Not well, but I enjoy it." His next grin provoked a slight dimple in his chin that made her shiver with need. "Shall we? Afterward, we will ring for tea. There is something I would like to do this evening that I believe you will enjoy above all things."

Over the course of the next hour, Hattie played her flute while Simon sang the words to the song, in Italian no less. Some of the notes were off key and cracked, and he mispronounced many of the words, but she appreciated the effort, and the tenor of his voice was comforting. Sharing time while wrapped in music brought her closer to him, and when he missed a rather important note, she lost a piece of her heart to him.

The poor thing was trying so hard!

By the end of the song, they had broken into peals of laughter as if they were children, and when the tea service arrived, the butler regarded them with a confused expression, which only made them laugh all the more.

It was one of the most enjoyable afternoons she'd spent, and she'd completely forgotten to tell him of the lion dream.

"Hattie?"

"Hmm?" She looked up from her book to find Simon standing in front of her with an outstretched hand. They'd both decided to read following tea, after he'd told her a scandalous story of a meeting with a courtesan in a port when he'd been a young man in the Navy. But said courtesan had turned out to be a man in a wig and women's clothing.

"Why don't you run upstairs and put on the boy's clothing again?"

She frowned. "Why? Are we going riding again?"

"No." When he wiggled his fingers and she slipped hers into his palm, he tugged her into a standing position as her bottom fell to the floor. "I thought we'd go to the British Museum."

"But why do I need to dress like a boy? Women are allowed inside, though it is rather late in the day for that."

He lowered his voice. "I thought to bring you with me into the Reading Room. Think of it as an adventure… or a scandal if we're caught. We won't have much time inside, for the hours of operation will end soon, but I thought you might like the outing."

"Truly?" Her lower jaw dropped, and when he nodded, she half-stifled a squeal of pleasure. "That's wonderful!" In her enthusiasm, she hugged him then ran to the door. "I will be ready in a twinkling."

The Reading Room at the British Museum at Montagu House was a bastion for men only. Women were never allowed inside, and she'd heard tales of some of the books contained within that place, had always been desperate to see for herself. But her father wasn't given to linger with literature or even music, so it was never a topic she had much fortune discussing with him. She could probably count on one hand the number of times her father had visited the space.

Never did she think it would be her husband that would encourage her to sneak inside and at his insistence. He really is lovely.

A half hour later, she walked beside the captain. It was insanity how easily it was to enter the museum and then the lauded Reading Room after that. None of the men inside made a fuss or even looked her way after a first casual glance, if even that. After raising an eyebrow at her to behave, Simon moved to one section of the room, while she wandered to another.

Oh, it was glorious!

The large room was decorated with heavy wooden shelves and comfortable leather furniture, while the scents of books, ink, leather, and tobacco wafted through the air. Many of the chairs were occupied with older men hidden behind newspapers while other men perused books. No one spoke, and perhaps that was a rule; she'd forgotten to ask Simon before they separated. Here and there, footmen brought snifters of brandy or glasses of other liquors to some of the men, and no one spoke above a whisper, if at all. It was very exclusive and very stodgy.

Though she attempted to quell the excitement at merely being in that room, Hattie had difficulties in that, for there were many books relating to a variety of subjects as well as travel from all over the world. It was an even better gift than riding through Mayfair, and as she ran her fingertips over the spines of the books, she wanted nothing more than to kiss Simon in thanks but couldn't because for all intents and purposes, she was a young man.

Once, he glanced her way and their gazes connected. She grinned. Warmth eased through her chest, and then he settled into a chair with a newspaper, leaving her the freedom to browse the shelves. For the first time in her life Hattie discovered what it was she wanted for her life—to caretake books and libraries. Could she find something in London that would fit with that resolve? Then the books called to her, and before she knew it, she'd pulled several tomes of interest, carried them to a chair in one corner out of the way so the other men wouldn't readily stare, and then she greedily dug into the first one.

She'd lost track of the time and where she was until Simon cleared his throat while standing next to her. Many of the men who had been reading earlier were now gone.

"The Reading Room is closing. We should go," he whispered as he slid a book into a shelf near her location.

"I'm not finished." How could she just leave all these books behind unread?

"I don't believe I said we couldn't come back." Then he gestured with his chin. "Meet me outside the in corridor."

Was there anyone as thoughtful as him? In a cloud of contentment, Hattie left the room a few minutes following Simon, and when she gained the nearly empty corridor, her stomach released a rather unladylike growl of hunger.

As soon as she was inside the closed carriage and had a bit of privacy again, she let out a squeal of pure happiness. "That was one of the most amazing things I have ever done."

"I'm glad you enjoyed the outing." He rapped on the roof of the carriage and told the driver to take them home.

"It was beyond words and made possible by you." Wanting to show him how much she appreciated what he'd done, Hattie joined him on his bench and bussed his cheek. "That was incredibly generous and daring of you."

"I merely wished to give you a gift that would mean something more than a new fan or frippery." But he grinned. "You don't seem the shallow type of woman, and after you alleviated my insecurity regarding my injury, I wanted to show my appreciation."

"Clever as well as mouth-wateringly handsome," she murmured, and when a wave of feeling swept over her for him, she climbed onto his lap, not stopping until she'd straddled him. "Never let anyone tell you those two traits can't exist together in one form."

"I don't know how I ended up married to such a scandalous vixen as you, but I rather think I should thank the fates," he whispered as he cupped her cheek and then claimed her lips with his.

As such things usually went between them, desire swept them up and need flowed between them. Hands and lips seemed to be everywhere in exploration and possession. When she paused for breath and met his gaze, something was exchanged between them. For the first time, Hattie wished to nurture what it was they'd been investing in for it might be worthy of a lifetime.

How is that possible? It hasn't even been two weeks yet.

Then he tugged her shirttails from her breeches and his hands were beneath the garment to cup her breasts. A moan escaped her as she snaked a hand about his nape. "If an astute someone were to peer into the window at the exact time the carriage passes a streetlamp, that person might have the wrong idea about your sexual preferences, Captain." As he worried her nipples into tight, aching buds, she laughed, but it was a breathless affair.

Simon snorted. "I don't believe I care at this point." He paused to apparently kiss all reason from her head. When he allowed her breath, he said, "Men and women should be able to bed who they want without censure, and it's no one's business how or why that happens." The words were punctuated by kisses beneath her jaw and light squeezes to her breasts. "But for now, it's quite fascinating to be the one fumbling at frontfalls in order to pursue pleasure. Let everyone in London think what they will." So saying, one of his hands wandered between their bodies to tug at those buttons.

And Hattie gladly gave herself over to his rather insistent ministrations as the odd sensation of falling assailed her.

Was this what it felt like to fall in love? If so, how fascinating!