Seductive Lies (Secret Lives Series) (4 page)

“I would not know what would have given you the impression I would be there
, as I have never attended nor have been invited,” Harriet said. She looked at him, assessing his demeanor.

Rather slender and tall, he carried himself with a certain elegance
, or perhaps it was arrogance. It did not matter to her. She cared little for him and tolerated him only because of her fiancé. Arthur chose to overlook the obvious. There was a distinct barrier between them—her father.

Harriet stared straight at Carlisle. “I accepted your invitation to ride this morning for one reason. I know Arthur asked you to look after me in his absence. I will ease your conscience, Mr. Carlisle. I have no desire for your support as I know you have no desire to give it.”

“Direct and forthright,” he said, appraising her with a look that annoyed her inner soul. His dark eyes met her own without blinking. “It is refreshing not to have to mince words, but I fear you have the wrong impression of me, Miss Burke.”

“Do I?” Harriet asked. “What other impression should I have? Arthur has been gone for
more than six months. I have heard nothing from you in that time. Then out of the blue, you appear at my weekly dinner at Ayercombe last evening.”

“You may have felt I have ignored you, but that is not the case. I have been in constant contact with either Lord Daneford or young Ewan about your welfare. Until now, there was no pressing need to make an appearance.”

“Until now? You have me confused.”

He laughed. “You have not been formally introduced into Society. Time is fast approaching for the Season to begin. I have come to invite you to visit my family at my uncle’s estate, Pleasant Green, outside of Southampton. Lord Daneford asked if perhaps you could meet my cousin, Sophia. She should be a great help to you. I believe you will like her. She is of the same age. You are nineteen, are you not?”

“Yes,” she answered. She had not expected such an invitation. As much as she had been sheltered at Beebe Manor, she understood the whispered connection of Lady Sophia Carlisle to the future Lord Daneford. She could not contain her surprise. “The Duke of Torridge’s home?”

He was perceptive and seemed to have read her confusion. “Arthur and I have been friends since childhood. I gave him my word that I would look after your welfare.”

“You want me to trust you, Mr. Carlisle. Pray forgive me, but I do not trust many and especially ones I do not know or blame my father for a crime he did not commit.”

“Ah, forthright once more. Then I will reward you for your bluntness,” he said in a strong
, steady voice that resonated through her. “You are quite right in your assessment that I think little of Arthur’s engagement to the daughter of the man who killed my uncle.”

She wanted nothing more than to ride back to her home. She was in no mood to listen to a reproach of her father or mother. She heard enough from her aunt. Choosing not to wait for her companions and face the wrath of her aunt, she reined back her horse only to be refrained from a departure. Carlisle had leaned down and gripped tight
ly to the bridle.

Her eyes flamed at his insolence. “How dare you! Let go,” she demanded, jerking back on the reins.

Instead of releasing her, he eyed her with an intensity that sent a shudder through her. “I see well Arthur’s attraction to you. You are quite beautiful when your emotions rage,” he said. The words did little to ease her temper, nor did Harriet believe they were meant to. He continued, “I gave my word to Arthur, and I am a man of my word. So it seems we need to come to an understanding.”

“I believe I understand you clearly.”

“So you do. Know then that the invitation to my uncle’s is quite sincere. I believe you will find my cousin most gracious and kind. You have much in common.”

The insinuation in his voice was not lost upon her—they both loved the same man. She said nothing but glared at him for his insolent behavior toward her. No gentleman would treat a lady in this fashion. It left her with the conclusion he did not think her a lady.

“It will please Arthur for you to make the connection to my family,” he pressed. “You are to be his bride, so you can rest assured, you will be made welcome. I have talked to Lord Daneford. He, too, feels the invitation will suit you well. You can travel to London with Sophia. It will do well for your introduction into Society—which will please Arthur.”

“I appreciate your kind offer,” Harriet said, determined to control the raging temper boiling within her. “You must have known that I
, too, have strong emotions concerning my father. I do not believe that your uncle was an innocent victim. It is my understanding the duel was fair. You would not have given my father a second thought if it had been him who had been killed. And may I remind you that it was my father who was injured by Meriwether Carlisle’s action. So you will understand my reluctance at the invitation and while I do so appreciate…”

“Miss
Burke, do not make a rash decision. Take your time. I do not leave until the end of next week.” Carlisle reached over and took her hand. Bringing it up to his face, he swept his lips against her fingers. Even through her glove, she felt the stones of her ring burn.

Suddenly, she was no more upon her horse, but in a vision.

Through the haze, she made out a dark, gloomy chamber. Heavy draperies had been pulled across the windows, allowing no hint of the time of the day. The air seemed to have been sucked out of the room, suffocating, encompassing with the feel of a mausoleum.

Crying and weeping echoed in the death chamber. From where
, she did not know; her attention had been drawn to the figure lying deathly still on the bed before her. Through these eyes, she felt small, insignificant, alone, afraid, and overwhelmingly sad. She edged up slowly to the side of the bed.

She saw him, the dying man. Barely recognizable, but it was he…the one she had seen before in her vision…Meriwether Carlisle. Red patches covered his exposed skin and swollen face. Drenched in sweat, he muttered incoherently, “Georgiana. Georgiana…”

As suddenly as it appeared, the vision dissipated. Shaken, she glanced up at Carlisle. Behind him, riders rounded the bend.

“It seems the others have caught up with us, Miss
Burke. I hope you will give thought to my invitation.”

Harriet looked down at her hand and back up at Carlisle
, whose attention seemed to be upon the riders. She shook her head and regained her composure. Glad he did not pick up her uneasiness, she drew in a deep breath and said, “I will give it consideration.”

“It is all I ask,” he responded, looking back at her with a smile that
said he thought he had won.

She said nothing more.

* * * *

Late into the night, the stairs creaked as someone climbed them and fumbled loudly down the hall corridor. A loud burp echoed in the stillness, followed by a loud crash and a cry.

“Damn sakes!”

Reginald
, in his drunkenness, must have returned home. Harriet listened to the drunken idiot fumble with the handle of his door. Then she heard the door open and close. The house was quiet again.

Harriet pulled the covers higher against her. Weariness swept through her, but sleep had not come. Long before
Reginald stumbled upstairs, her mind raced from one thought to another.

Mr.
James Carlisle, in his frank manner, did little to conceal his animosity toward her. Clearly, the man held her father’s action against her. It was not fair for Arthur to expect her to go to Pleasant Green and endure the animosity of the Carlisles. Though there was truth in Carlisle’s words.

Arthur expected her to be his wife and being his wife meant enduring the proprieties of one day becoming the Viscountess Daneford. She hadn’t a choice. She had to try to become that lady for Arthur. Moreover, if the Duke of
Torridge offered his home to her, it would be a slight not to accept. Only, she didn’t trust the reason for the offer.

Troubled, Harriet turned over toward the dying fire. Pulling her hand from the warmth of the covers, she stared down at her ring. Even in the dimming light, a sparkling aurora encircled the rich stones. What secrets did it hold, she questioned, for now she had no doubt the ring beckoned her.

Over the years, she had learned to ignore the call when it came. Visions came and went. Never, though, had she felt a pull upon her as she did now. That gypsy woman, Vadoma, had called it a gift.
A gift?

Etched into her memory was that moment when she was eleven. In front of the entire village, Vadoma grasped Harriet’s shoulders and spoke words in a language Harriet didn’t understand,
concluding the rambling in English. “May you see beyond the barrier between the worlds for those seeking peace and may peace find you.”

Her grandfather raged with ire, “How dare you curse my granddaughter! If not for Harriet, your brother would now be in custody
, heading for prison.”

Vadoma released Harriet and smiled. Never had Harriet met such a striking woman, beautiful in an exotic way. Her large eyes changed color with her mood, going from a shining green to dark brown, and seemed to be able to see into one’s soul. Her dark beauty
was accented by a flowing multi-colored skirt and white blouse, with her dark hair pulled back with a headscarf. Vadoma turned from Harriet and directed her attention toward her grandfather.

“It is not an amria I have uttered, Sir
Burke. I have blessed the chavi. Athinganoi looms over her.”

“Nonsense words!”
Her grandfather shouted. “I want you gone—the whole lot of you off my property by the morning!”

Her grandfather grasped hold of Harriet’s hand and dragged her to the carriage. “You are forbidden to ride until those people are gone. Do you understand? They are thieves, hoodlums, vagabonds. The whole lot of them. They will take advantage of your compassion.”

Harriet nodded, glancing back over her shoulder at the gypsies. She wanted to ask what they had done wrong. Had it not been Reginald who had caused the commotion, not the gypsies, especially not Durriken? Durriken had come to her defense when he thought she was endangered.

She had not been. She had
only shouted at Reginald for shooting the pheasants she was feeding. It had been her usual habit when she stopped on her ride in the clearing to feed the birds. She had not known her cousin had followed her, not until he began to shoot into the flock, killing four.

“Stop it! Stop!” she cried. Rushing toward him, she shoved him hard. “It’s…it’s murder.”

He grabbed her arm with one arm and slung her down on the ground. “They are my birds. I can do what I want.”

“They are not. They are grandfather’s!”

He laughed. “You idiot! One day all this will be mine. I can do what I want.”

At that moment, a young man rushed
out of the woods toward Reginald. Harriet didn’t remember much what ensued after that point. Newman, the gamekeeper, interrupted the fight, but not before Reginald lay sprawled on the ground.

Footmen and Uncle
Walter appeared and held the gypsy for the authorities. Harriet tried desperately to explain what had happened, but not until her grandfather returned home did anyone listen to her tale. At first, even her grandfather did nothing to remedy the injustice.

“It is of little matter,” her grandfather said. “Why was he there in the woods? I would wager it was to steal my game…”

“But Grandfather,” Harriet pleaded. “The man thought I was in trouble. Reginald shot his gun. I was there fighting with Reginald….if it was as you think, then it was even braver to come to defend me. He should not be arrested for coming to my aid. I cannot live with the thought.”

Her grandfather wasn’t happy, but he relented…above the opposition of her uncle.

“An embarrassment to the family,” her uncle declared. “For Heaven’s sake, Father! It’s a gypsy! You are going down to disavow Reginald’s statement for a gypsy!”

“
Reginald needs to learn gentlemen do not lie. It could have easily been handled if he had not invented a story.”

Her grandfather was far from happy with the whole of the situation, but his conscience had not allowed anything other than the truth to be told. Harriet wondered
whether her grandfather had regretted his decision.

Without question, her grandfather loved her deeply, but even he could not deny that strange happenings began to occur around her after that day… strange, unexplained happenings. Then after the incident with Mrs. Whitney, their housekeeper, he had warned her to keep her visions to herself.

“I know you too well not to know you speak what you believe is the truth. You cannot go around telling others you see things that aren’t there. People will think you possessed. That damn gypsy cursed you! I knew it well. I blame myself. But,” her grandfather said. His tone well conveyed his worry and concern about her. “Harriet, listen closely to me. You have to keep your visions to yourself. Whatever is happening, no good can come from telling others what you see.”

Harriet took his warning to heart
, though questions overwhelmed her. Her only solace came from Mrs. Whitney.

“Your grandfather has forbidden any to talk about what happened. I only wanted you to know you have nothing to fear from me. I also know what you said and I know it held truth in it.”