When Harry Met Molly

Chapter 29

Harry guessed that Arrow and Hildur, Joan and Lumley, and Maxwell and Athena arrived at the final site of the treasure hunt about half an hour after Sir Richard and Bunny had.

Athena was in a terrible snit. “I despise caves,” she said, her hair rather more wild than usual. “I will die before I set foot in another one.”

“She only stood at the entrance,” Maxwell muttered to Harry. “And a bat flew in her hair. You’d think it was the end of the world. It took me a good thirty minutes to calm her.”

Arrow and Hildur both looked half dressed, and their hair was damp. “We lost track of the time,” Arrow said, quite good-naturedly. “We really did intend to win.”

Hildur laughed. “I like waterfalls, Captain Arrow.” She threw him a smoldering glance.

“You do, don’t you?” He shook out his cuffs and winked at Harry.

Joan was in a foul mood, as well. “Those ruins,” she said, “are fake.”

“It’s all the thing, don’t you know,” said Lumley with a shrug. “Build your own ruins, invite friends over.”

“But we were trespassing,” Joan said. “And they caught us.”

“It wouldn’t have been a problem if, um—” Lumley stopped talking and looked worriedly at Molly.

Harry noticed that ever since their time together in the kissing closet, Lumley treated Molly with special deference. She’d asked after his mother’s health, after all. And made him a lovely tart.

“If what, Lumley?” Sir Richard asked nastily.

“If we weren’t naked,” Joan said with asperity.

Harry looked swiftly at Molly. The word naked apparently wasn’t bothering her as much anymore. She appeared to be laughing behind her hand!

The minx.

He caught her eye and grinned, but her expression instantly became serious again.

And it hadn’t improved, all the way back to the hunting box, where they immediately trooped into the drawing room for a late afternoon cup of tea.

Captain Arrow flicked back the curtains. “We’d all best batten down the hatches tonight,” he said. “We had a devil of a red sky this morning. I predict a vast downpour. And gusty winds.”

“But the sky is clear,” said Athena, “save for a few fluffy clouds.”

“Red sky at morning, sailors take warning,” said Captain Arrow. “I’m sorry for Harry and Delilah, though.”

“We’ll be fine,” said Harry, trying to boost Molly’s spirits.

She didn’t say a word.

“Delilah, aren’t you excited about your impending Arabian night?” asked Joan.

Molly sat up in her chair. “Of course I’m excited,” she said, and tried to smile.

But she was a terrible actress, Harry thought for the umpteenth time. She looked as though she’d rather be drawn and quartered than sleep in a Moroccan tent with him.

Athena puckered her brow. “Are you all right, Delilah?”

Molly nodded. “I—I’m fine.”

“I should hope so,” Sir Richard huffed. “While we’ll have roast beef and pudding, you’ll be treated to a lavish meal served by exotic menservants.”

“Where are they?” Molly asked.

No one knew.

But the piece of paper detailing their prize made it clear that the servants would be at the site on the hill near the lake sometime soon after sundown.

Which was in fifteen minutes. So it was time to go.

After many wishes for a pleasant evening from everyone except Sir Richard, Harry found himself alone again on the trail with Molly. She was lagging behind him, perhaps without realizing it.

“Tell me truthfully,” he asked her. “Are you all right?”

“My slipper’s loose,” she said. “That’s all.”

“I could carry you,” he offered with a grin. “It could be fun.”

“No, thank you,” she responded politely, but her smile was weak.

Approaching a bend in the trail, Harry racked his brain for something that would restore the affectionate, cheerful Molly to him. Without her, he was becoming cross. And damned if his head wasn’t beginning to ache. For the first time, his usual charm was failing him utterly, and he couldn’t think how to…how to win her back. She’d been ignoring him, ever since she’d talked to Sir Richard after the treasure hunt.

Wait—

Sir Richard.

Harry braced himself to ask Molly what had transpired between them, but she was staring over his shoulder.

“Oh!” she cried. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Straight ahead, shimmering like a jewel among the trees on the side of the hill facing the lake, was a scarlet and white striped Moroccan tent.

“It is rather splendid.” Harry squeezed her hand, encouraged by her enthusiastic reaction.

She didn’t lag behind anymore. In fact, he had to walk faster to keep up with her. All thoughts of asking her about Sir Richard went out of his head. Harry was hopeful that Molly was back, his Molly, the one who made him feel as if every day were an adventure.

A few minutes later, when they actually got to the campsite, there didn’t appear to be anyone nearby, even though there was a small fire and a well-roasted suckling pig crackling and hissing away on a spit above the flames.

“You’re late,” Harry heard from behind him.

“Oh!” said Molly, and whirled around.

In the split second he took to turn, Harry girded himself. He knew that voice, even as the commonsensical part of him insisted that it couldn’t be that person—it couldn’t! Not out here in the middle of nowhere.

But there he was—Prinny himself, sitting in a grand chair between two trees. He was surrounded by two Indian servants waving large feather fans behind his head. And he held an open bottle of wine in his hand.

“Your Royal Highness,” Molly said in a trembling voice, and dropped a low curtsy.

“Your Highness,” Harry said in his crispest tone. “Welcome to my family’s property.” He gave a swooping bow.

Prinny chuckled. “My, my, my,” he said. “So you won the treasure hunt, Harry.” His gaze raked boldly over Molly. “Did this fair lady assist you?”

Harry took a step forward. “Yes, Your Highness, she did. She was indispensable, actually. Never would have won it without her.”

Prinny took a swig from the bottle. “It gave me great pleasure to arrange that treasure hunt. I’m surrounded by very capable advisors”—he paused—“and some dolts, as well, who think I should attend to state matters all the time. But everyone knows a man must have his fun, eh?”

The prince leaned on an elbow and eyed Molly. “Tell me your name, my dear.”

Harry almost couldn’t breathe.

“D-Delilah, Your Highness.” She smiled at Prinny, and Harry prayed Molly’s heavy eye makeup and rouge would disguise her, in case the Prince Regent ever saw her about town.

“You’ve intelligence and a bit of spirit in your gaze,” Prinny said. “I like you. Don’t you, Harry?”

“Most definitely, Your Highness.”

“I shan’t stay.” Prinny stood on rather wobbly legs. “And my servants shall leave after they’ve fed you—they’ll sleep in your stables tonight, Harry, and clean up here tomorrow.”

“I’m happy to offer them a room, Your Highness, and access to the kitchens.”

Prinny nodded. “Just as well. As for me, I’ve a horse and a servant nearby, and a carriage awaiting me in the village. A good friend—a rather delicious friend—lives not five miles from here.” He gave them a breezy salute. “I hope you’ll enjoy your Arabian night, my friends.”

And he turned to walk away.

“Wait!” Molly cried.

Prinny paused and turned back around.

“I mean, Your Royal Highness,” Molly amended with an apologetic smile. “We would be honored to have you stay and sup with us.”

Prinny chuckled. “You don’t want old Prinny about. One more bottle of this stuff”—he held up the wine bottle—“and I shan’t be so civilized. Besides, I’d rather think about what will happen here after I leave.”

He waggled his brows.

Molly turned beet red.

Harry cleared his throat. “We’re certainly grateful for your patronage, Your Highness. Safe journey.”

Prinny eyed him. “Safe journey to you, too, as you navigate your way through this wager. I hope you come out the other end of it the way you wish.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“And you, young lady.” Prinny pointed the bottle in Molly’s direction. “Don’t settle for a ne’er-do-well, eh? Make sure you find yourself a protector who knows your worth. I can already see that very few gentlemen deserve to win you.”

Molly smiled and curtsied. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

He skewered Harry with a steely look. “Take it from me, Traemore, the whole world might hate you for one reason or another, but if you’ve a good woman by your side, you can still enjoy life. And it don’t matter if she’s a duchess or the winner of the Most Delectable Companion contest.”

Harry grinned. “I shan’t forget, Your Highness.”

They watched him walk away.

But as soon as he disappeared, Molly’s energy—her brightness, her spirit—seemed to flag again, even as they sat by the fire and ate a sumptuous feast, complemented by a very fine bottle of wine.

After they finished their meal and said good-bye to the servants, Harry said, “You seem preoccupied tonight. You haven’t even looked inside the tent.”

“No doubt I’m still rather in shock,” she said, “as we were just visited by the Regent of England. Out here in the woods.” She gave a little laugh.

But the Molly Harry had grown familiar with wasn’t so understated. Nor so lacking in curiosity.

“I hate to add to your discomfiture, but Bunny gave me something today that you should read.” Reaching into his pocket, he handed Molly Sir Richard’s letter.

Skimming the lines, Molly’s face registered worry. “He’s hired someone local to check all the posting inns from here to London for a woman of my description. I thought I was a good actress, but the truth is, I make a terrible mistress. And Sir Richard has figured that out.”

“A young lady isn’t supposed to make a good mistress.” Harry hated to see her so burdened with remorse. “Besides, I’m just as guilty as you of being a poor actor. Even though we’ve”—how should he say it?—“transgressed certain boundaries, I can’t forget that you’re a lady. No doubt it shows in my manner.”

Her face looked particularly pained when he mentioned she was a lady. Was she worried that this week’s events had somehow stripped her of that distinction?

He laid a hand over hers. “Molly, you’ve done nothing wrong. And you’ll be all right. I shall see to that. We’ve got one more day to go, and then I’ll take you home, no one the wiser. You must trust me.”

They locked gazes, but the look in her eye was far from trusting. She swallowed. Her mouth trembled. And she was wary of him. He could tell. It was as if this week of getting closer had never happened.

Standing up, he ignored the hurt he felt somewhere near his heart. “I’m going to chop wood,” he said gruffly.

They didn’t need any more wood. The Indian servants had left them some. But Harry had discovered in the army that hard work was a good way to forget that the people you cared about didn’t expect much of you—and it was also a good way to prove them wrong.