Safer. Soon she would not have a bed to sleep in – or even a roof over her head. Men like him would take it from her. And God, she lost it then, for a small moment, the faux serenity she had cloaked herself in.
“I sleep well enough, but your concern is appreciated.”
“You are an odd creature, Miss Groves.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied, ice in her tone, frost on her lips. “That is quite the compliment.”
“I mean it is refreshing,” he amended, taking her hand once more where the dance allowed it. The touch felt like a burn, a brand. “The other ladies present are tittering, simpering fools.”
“You cannot blame a woman for wanting to secure a husband and you are prime marriage material.”
An officer, good connections, a grand reputation and handsome features. For any other girl, he would be hard to resist, despite his tactless nature. In fact, as she and Edward moved across the hall, Harriet felt many a jealous gaze land upon her.
If only they knew this was the last place she longed to be.
“It is wrong to be hard on them, for they only want to secure your attention,” said Harriet, more harshly than intended, too eager to find fault. “The fairer sex has no other way to survive, but to depend on artless men like you.”
“I am not here to be depended on, madam.” She’d struck a nerve. Good. “I am here to capture a criminal and then I will go back abroad to fight.”
“Is fighting all you do?”
“Yes,” said Edward. “It is.”
God, she should have shot him when she had the chance.
The music ceased abruptly and applause began. Edward stood before Harriet, stock-still with that same unfathomable expression. She longed for a pistol’s weight in her hand, for protection.
“But a man cannot fight all the time. I dance as well – or had you not noticed, Miss Groves?” The room was still aflutter with chatter and laughter, though nothing could distract the couple from one another. “Life is a fight; we do what we must to get by.”
Chin angled upwards, her question bold, she asked, “How many men have you killed?”
Edward’s strength and tall frame were impossible to overlook as he took a step towards her, too close for comfort, and his answer too honest for her liking. “More than I can count.”
“And you will kill again before you leave the county, will you not?” The anger was there, the hurt, the betrayal. It should not have felt like one, but it did. She had been charmed by him; she had let him in – if only for a moment – a moment too long. It would not happen again.
Not ever.
“Yes,” he answered simply. “If I have to.”
She felt trapped under his gaze, a butterfly pinned to a board. “What if you do not find this rogue, Major Roberts?”
“I will.”
“And then?”
A severe looked claimed Edward, his attention solely on her. “Do not trouble yourself with such thoughts, for the bandit will be dead in a week, Miss Groves. Then we can all go back to our lives.”
“A week?” The two syllables were all she could utter. He had made the remark so offhandedly and casually that its gravity would not take root in her mind. A week to live? Not if she killed him first. “You’re so brave, Major Roberts, so self-assured. I cannot help but feel sorry for your intended prey.”
“Don’t.” If he picked up on the insincerity in her words, he did not reveal it, hearing only what he wanted to hear. “When a man chooses the darker road, he must face the consequences.”
“Hear, hear!” A portly figure a few paces away raised his glass, causing Harriet to start back, skin prickling. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“Miss Groves,” said Edward. “This is Captain Renner.”
Another toast came at Harriet’s elbow, before their conversation was brushed aside. Others claimed the soldier’s attention. It was an easy way out, even if she resented it. Harriet’s chest was tight when she strode back across the ballroom, as though it had been bound. Another dance was about to begin, but it would spin on without her. She didn’t belong here anyway. They all knew it – and the major would soon find out. Old acquaintances and new ones glanced her way, not a single kind look, nor a welcoming word. Heavy footsteps, a graze upon her wrist, his voice, again.
“Miss Groves?”
Harriet’s steps faltered as she pushed her smile back into place. “I need a little air. It’s ever so stuffy in here.”
“Let me escort you – ”
“No,” she pulled herself away from his touch. “I can manage alone – and besides, there are so many people here you should meet, it would be selfish for me to keep you longer.”
“Then I am all for you being selfish.”
An honest grin, belonging to a girl far younger and much less jaded than herself, claimed her pointed features. “I am sure we shall run into one another again.”
Whether we like it or not.
“I shall look forward to it.” A small nod and Edward took his leave, turning back only once, leaving Harriet with only echoes of emotions, nothing fully realised, all forbidden. Once upon a time, in another far-off world with happy endings, she might have let herself fall for a man like him.
The knowledge frightened her.
A soft hand touched her elbow, wrenching an audible gasp from her, her stomach flipping.
“What’s wrong, Harriet?” It was only Aunt Georgia, her mouth puckered into a frown. “I know that look. Something’s happened – tell me.”
“Nothing,” soothed the younger woman, holding her aunt’s arm and squeezing it companionably. “Can we leave?”
“Of course, yes,” the woman said instantly, putting the back of her hand against Harriet’s forehead, testing her temperature. “But you look terribly peaky, as though someone’s walked over your grave.”
Harriet nodded blankly and was led out through another exit, her movements automatic and rigid. She had held up carriages; she had robbed the wealthiest, most corrupt souls in the city with an easy grin. She enjoyed the rush it had given her. As the Green Highwayman, she was famous; she was unstoppable. Yet that man – that Major Edward Roberts – had rattled her to her core. With only a few words he had pulled the rug from under her feet and taken her composure with it. Even now she cast a look back into the gaiety within, as if wary he would find her – and half wanting him to.
The time between when their carriage was called for and when it actually arrived felt like an age. Aunt Georgia’s worried stare was a dead weight on her shoulders, but she did not question Harriet – as they both knew she undoubtedly would – until they began moving back through Bath’s dark streets. Nothing could keep that woman from gossip.
“This isn’t like you. I shall call for the doctor the second we’re home.”
“A dizzy spell, that’s all. Sleep will aid it,” replied Harriet above the carriage’s movement. “I am sorry to worry you.”
“Harriet.”
“It is nothing.” She heard her aunt huff loudly, deprived of further information. The interrogation was far from over and Harriet knew this would be only a small lull in her demanding questions.
“Was it that Major Roberts? The militia are all the