Page 20 of Visiting Miss Austen (Miss Austen #2)

After the raspberry-picking excursion, I told Mr Hart that I wanted to be alone to think about what he had said. But before going to my room and locking the door, I double-checked Jane’s and Lucinda’s to ensure they really had gone. All was in order, and they were not in sight. At least that part of the plan had gone smoothly!

Shaken by Mr Hart’s revelation, I flopped onto my bed and lay there, going over everything he had said and our conversation as we had walked back to the castle with the brimming basket of raspberries between us. He had wanted me to call him Dorian and not Mr Hart. I had refused.

‘You did so last night,’ he pouted.

‘It was only because I felt sorry for you. I will not make the same mistake again,’ I said firmly.

He tried to kiss my hand, but I had pulled mine away. ‘Do you ever give up?’ I said, half laughing because he was being so insistently ridiculous.

‘Not when I find something I want,’ he replied, giving me a cocky grin that made my hackles rise.

‘You want me only because I’m a challenge,’ I retorted.

‘I want you because you beat me into submission—and I like that very much,’ he added, his voice lowering huskily.

He had an answer for everything and was determined to flirt, so I had thought it was wise to say nothing else to provoke him and come straight to my room. All I had to do now was wait for the afternoon mail coach ... and resist the advances of a devilishly handsome rake ...

A faint click roused me; and I sat up, rubbing my eyes sleepily, then realised with dismay that I had fallen asleep ! Fortunately, I had dropped off for only a moment as I was so tired after last night’s events.

Blast , I thought. I was supposed to inform Mr Hart that Lucinda was still poorly and that Jane was writing her novel but would be down for supper too. What was the point of making a plan if I could not remember to action each of the stages?

It was strange that Mr Hart had left me alone and not come pestering me with further flowery declarations of his feelings. I had half been expecting a hastily written love poem shoved under the door à la Mr Humbleton. But unlike my cousin’s poor attempts at flattery, a poem from Mr Hart would likely be much more persuasive and possibly even risqué, so I did not want to receive one. Still, there was no harm in checking ...

I got up and wandered over to the door and stooped down to have a look underneath. There was no paper sticking out. Oh well. Thinking I should probably check the time on the grandfather clock on the landing, I grasped the door handle and turned it. However, the door would not open. I pulled harder in case it was stuck, but it would not budge. It took me several tries of uselessly yanking before I had to face facts: Mr Hart had taken the key and locked me in from the other side.

I banged on the door loudly with my fist. ‘Mr Hart!’ I shouted. ‘Are you there? Let me out at once!’

‘It is very rude for guests to leave without saying goodbye,’ a voice drawled from behind the door.

I fell silent, unsure of what to say to that.

‘Especially since I have been an exemplary host, providing accommodation, food and drink, et cetera.’

‘Are ... are you angry?’ I ventured.

‘Fuming,’ came the reply.

‘Ah ... So you will not let me out?’

There was a pause.

‘No, you have vexed me exceedingly. So you can stay in there and think about what you’ve done.’

There was an undertone of amusement in his voice, so I could not tell if he was joking or not.

Panicking, I yanked on the doorknob fruitlessly. ‘ Mr Hart, this is not funny!’

‘And I am not laughing, Felicity. I am severely insulted, and I am going to need to think of a suitable punishment for you.’

‘P-punishment?’

‘Yes, I have not decided exactly what yet. But rest assured, whatever it is, you will enjoy it. We will probably be up all night. So if I were you, I would have another nap.’

There was definitely amusement in his tone now. He was enjoying this immensely. I could imagine him grinning away to himself.

‘Meanwhile, I am going for a ride to clear my head. Do not bother trying to escape through the secret passage that leads to the library. I’ve put Smithy on guard. And the ivy outside the window won’t hold your weight, so I would not attempt climbing down that if I were you.’

‘So much for saying you care for me!’ I exclaimed. ‘I knew it was all just hot air. Love is not locking someone in a room!’

‘There are many different forms of love, and I am teaching you mine,’ came the reply. ‘You need to learn that people have feelings. Did you not think I would be hurt when I discovered your ruse for Miss Austen and Miss Fitzroy to leave behind my back?’

‘I ... I am sorry. But it was not personal,’ I said, trying to appeal to his common sense, if he had any. ‘Lucy wished to leave forthwith, so Jane had to go with her.’

‘Oh, did she now? Well, no matter. It is actually better this way. We can do what we like now. Smithy doesn’t care, and Father, well ... Even if he finds out, he’ll forget about it. And Maurice is discreet, of course—he has had to be over the years.’ He laughed softly, and the sound chilled my bones. ‘Until later, my love.’ There was the sound of a kiss being blown and then footsteps heading down the hallway.

‘Mr Hart! Dorian! ’ I pounded frantically on the door, but there was no reply.

I went back over to the bed and sat down dully. Part of me was in denial that this was happening. The other part was extremely aware that I was in real danger of being compromised. And I did not want to be a ruined woman, let alone the mistress of a castle that was full of secrets and lies!

Yes, my life with Max was a little staid, but his love was steady and true—a love that I could trust to last the distance. I loved him too much to ever want to be without him; and I wanted to go home and resume being his wife, his Fliss, without my reputation being sullied.

Determination rose in me. I was not going to let Mr Hart win—not without putting up a fight at least.

** *

It was well into the afternoon before I heard the key turn in the lock and footsteps enter my room. Curled up on my side, facing the wall with my eyes shut tight, I was feigning sleep. But every muscle was poised and ready.

‘Felicity.’ There was a light tap on my shoulder. I did not stir. Then my shoulder was grasped and squeezed.

I faked a yawn and rolled over to find Mr Hart sitting on the side of the bed, cheeks flushed from riding and his dark hair dishevelled. His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, and a light sweat bathed his chest. It was the same rugged look I had noted when we stopped on the road to Hartmoor. It was only a few days ago, but it felt like months. Little did I know at the time that our acquaintance would descend into this.

My eyes flicked to his hands. He was holding a tray laden with a plate of cheese sandwiches; a bowl of raspberries; and a small jug of cream.

‘What is this?’

‘A picnic, dearest,’ he said, placing the tray on the bed.

‘How romantic,’ I said witheringly, and he inclined his head.

‘Indeed, and what I have planned for you afterwards is even more so ...’ he replied with a smug smirk, which made my toes curl in alarm.

Carefully, I sat up and gave the door a quick glance. It was slightly ajar, as if he had given it a half-hearted kick with his boot, and it hadn’t quite shut properly. Should I try to make a run for it? But he was quick, and I doubted I could make it without him catching me, so I picked up one of the sandwiches with a shaky hand. ‘How was your ride?’ I asked conversationally and took a bite.

‘Very pleasant, my love,’ he replied jovially, picking up the other sandwich. ‘I took the path that runs around the perimeter of the castle and which leads to the stream. If you like, we can go for a ride tomorrow. There is room enough on my horse, as I think I told you once before. If I remember correctly, we had stopped on the roadside when we were travelling to Hartmoor.’

I almost choked on my mouthful of sandwich. How odd that he had been thinking of that encounter then too, like he had read my mind.

‘If I had known then what my host was really like, I would not have stepped back into the carriage,’ I replied, unable to resist a barb.

‘Ouch,’ he said with a mock flinch. ‘I was hoping that when I returned, I would find you more amiable. But I see you are still determined to vex me. Very well then.’

He finished his sandwich, brushed the crumbs off his breeches, and picked up the jug of cream. Without warning, he reached across and poured it liberally over my décolletage.

I gasped as the icy cream soaked my cleavage and dripped coldly down my ribcage within the confines of my bodice.

‘W-what are you doing?’

But he simply smiled and pushed me back on the pillow and proceeded to lap at my creamy bosom with relish. I struggled to get up, but he had me pinned with those strong arms of his—how strong they were, I was now finding out. I kicked my legs in desperation. ‘Stop it!’

But he laughed at my puny efforts. ‘Stop? Oh no, I am just getting started.’

He grabbed a handful of raspberries out of the bowl and tucked them one by one into the top of my dress. Then more cream was poured over and, to my shock, he sunk his teeth into the ripe raspberries with a growl. It was a new dress too, pale-green silk with tiny yellow embroidered flowers around the neckline. Max had greatly admired it when I first wore it. But Mr Hart was ruining the flowers entirely with his brutish behaviour. My blood was starting to boil.

‘Mmm, raspberries, cream, and a pert bosom—I think this might be my new favourite dessert,’ he said, raising his head and licking his lips; his mouth and chin were smeared with raspberry juice. ‘But I am being rude. I have not offered you some.’

‘I do not want any!’

‘Ah, but I see the problem,’ he said, continuing as if I had not spoken. He stared at the fruity mess he’d made on my neckline. ‘Perhaps you would feel more comfortable if you removed your dirty dress. Then we could really have some fun.’ His eyes danced with mischief.

‘No, I think not. I am quite comfortable as I am.’

‘Come now, Felicity. You are not so prim and proper as you make out ... Didn’t you say you are “well versed” in the bedroom?’

I pursed my lips, and he chuckled. ‘So stubborn. I do love your fiery nature. Well, if you will not remove your dress, I will gladly do it for you.’

He placed his hands on either side of my shoulders so he was bracketing me, then lowered his head and tugged at the neckline of my dress with his teeth. Oh Lord!

‘I ... I thought you were going to change your ways. Be a better man for me ...’ I tried to buy myself some time by reasoning with him. But from the guttural sounds he was making in his throat as he twisted his head this way and that like a savage dog, he did not seem to be in a fit state to reason with.

My heart knocked against my ribcage as the material started to slowly rip down the middle, exposing my chemise. With a delighted grunt, he pawed at it eagerly with one hand to expose my breasts. But he was so intent on the prize that he did not notice he had left himself vulnerable, and I was sliding my hand into my pocket.

I brought the letter opener slowly up to Mr Hart’s throat and pressed it in firmly.

‘Stop that right now !’ I hissed.

The pawing ceased the moment the cold sharp tip jutted against his skin. I felt him swallow, but he did not move, and his hot breath washed in slow waves against my bosom.

‘Let me go or else .’ I agitated the letter opener against his jugular, and he laughed, but nervously.

‘You would not.’

‘Try me,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘I grew up in the country, and I have spent enough time at the Austens’ to know exactly how they cull their pigs. Plus I have enough rage right now not to care what happens to you.’

I dug the letter opener in harder, and he flinched.

‘All right, all right,’ Mr Hart said hastily. ‘I will stop.’ He withdrew slowly to the end of the bed and crouched there like a gargoyle.

But when he saw what I was holding in my hand, he burst into laughter. ‘My god, I thought you had a knife! “Killed by a letter opener”, that would have been even better than Royden’s demise! ’

I said nothing but kept brandishing it in front of me so he knew I meant business.

But Mr Hart looked entertained rather than scared. ‘If I really wanted to, I could knock that paltry weapon out of your hand and take you here and now. But I do admire your spirit.’ He wiped his mouth thoughtfully with his sleeve and smiled at me disarmingly.

I kept the letter opener aloft, my heart thumping in my chest. I knew that look. Whatever he was planning next, I had to keep my wits about me as he was a fast mover. But his next words were something altogether surprising.

‘As you are feeling so playful, Felicity, and since I am a generous host, I will make you a deal,’ he said. ‘You have ten minutes to try to escape the castle, and then I am coming after you. If you manage to get out, I will let you go. However, if I catch you, you agree to be mine and submit willingly to whatever I wish to do to you.’

What other choice did I have? I was in a precarious situation, and at least he was giving me some chance of escape.

‘Deal,’ I said. Swiftly, I leapt off the bed and was out the door before he had time to react.

‘Run fast, little mouse!’ he called out laughingly after me .