When Harry Met Molly

Chapter 41

An hour later, Molly slipped out of Harry’s bed before he awoke and met the mistresses for an early breakfast. Molly doubted she would ever see them again. She couldn’t very well give them her address at Marble Hill, could she?

But saying good-bye to Bunny was proving to be too difficult. The footman left the dining room to bring several platters back to the kitchen, and the other mistresses excused themselves to finish packing.

Both Molly and Bunny stood in the doorway, watching Athena, Joan, and Hildur ascend the stairs.

Bunny turned back to her. “Before I go, I must thank you again, Delilah, for the money.” She hugged Molly, then drew back and took her by the shoulders. “I know I’ll never forget you. And I hope you shan’t forget me.”

Bunny’s gaze was warm, trusting. It was enough to make Molly come to a decision.

“Of course I won’t forget you,” she said. “And perhaps I’m rash to confide in you, but—” She swallowed hard. How could she tell her friend that she’d lied all week?

Bunny took her arm and drew her deeper into the drawing room, to the corner by the sideboard. “Please do tell me what’s bothering you,” she said, affectionate concern in her voice. “You’ve always been such a help to me.”

Molly bit her lip. “Would you hate me too terribly much if”—she turned to face her friend squarely—“if I told you that I’m not a real mistress?”

Bunny blinked several times. Then she put her hand to her mouth, which was open in a wide O, and after an awkward few seconds, she dropped her hand and chuckled. “Delilah, are you telling another amusing anecdote?”

Molly shook her head. “It’s true. I—I’ve been an imposter. All week.”

Bunny went back to the dining room table and sank into a chair. Molly sat down next to her, took Bunny’s hand, and squeezed it. Then she proceeded to explain, in a low voice, how she’d come to be at the house party.

Bunny pressed a palm to her chest. “So your real name is Molly.” She smiled. “It suits you.”

Thank God. Thank God she hadn’t gotten up and walked away in a huff.

“Yes,” said Molly weakly. “I like it better than Mary. I’m actually…Lady Mary Fairbanks. My father is the Earl of Sutton.”

Bunny’s mouth fell open again. “No.”

Molly nodded vigorously.

Bunny clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. But she couldn’t. She laughed aloud, her beautiful face alight with mirth. “Oh, Molly!”

Molly laughed, too. She should have known—Bunny was a true friend.

Bunny sighed. “What a tale. But I’m delighted. I’m so happy to know that”—she hesitated, looked around to make sure the footman hadn’t come back, nor any other guests—“perhaps you have a chance with Lord Harry.”

Molly’s heart sank. Just thinking of Harry and how unattainable he was made her depressed. “I don’t think so, Bunny. He enjoys being a bachelor.”

Bunny squeezed her elbow. “They all fall at some point. And I—I think he has feelings for you. In fact, I’m sure of it. Please don’t give up hope.”

The footman came back then, and their cozy talk was over. But when Molly hugged Bunny good-bye this time, she felt worlds better, even as her heart was heavy about Harry. If he had feelings for her, nothing would stop him from acting upon them! And he hadn’t acted. So that was Molly’s answer.

She gave Bunny her address at Marble Hill and begged her to write as soon as she got settled into her new situation, which Bunny promised to do.

And then it was time to leave.

The subsequent journey to London was a miserable affair. Molly had to endure the powder and rouge and kohl for another day, and she wore Fiona’s most voluminous bonnet. It wasn’t safe to be seen so far from home without a disguise.

Harry had to exit the carriage twice within the first hour of leaving the hunting box to be sick. Eventually, he decided to ride on top of the carriage with his coachman.

But Molly wasn’t alone in the interior of Harry’s vehicle. He’d procured a maid from the village to act as chaperone. All morning, she chattered away. Molly barely listened. Instead, she reflected on the fact that she was going back home to her old life.

Without Cedric, thank God.

But still. Her old life.

She tried to be excited about the possibilities, but she couldn’t. What possibilities were there? Too much had happened in the past week, the main thing being that she’d fallen in love—with the wrong man.

“You all right, miss?” the maid asked her sometime after the sun had risen above the trees.

Molly sighed. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“We’ll be stopping soon.” She took Molly’s shawl and draped it over her. “You seem a bit ill. Perhaps a special punch would do you good.”

An hour later at a small posting inn, Molly shared a “special punch,” prepared at the maid’s direction, with Harry.

“Good afternoon,” he said to her, his voice rough. He drained his cup of punch and stared at her, quite as if he didn’t see her at all.

It was the first they’d spoken all day.

“Good afternoon,” she said back, and took a reluctant sip of her punch. But it was good, and powerful. It warmed her, so she finished it quickly.

“It seems we’re both under the weather.” The corners of Harry’s eyes were etched with creases.

“Perhaps the punch will do the trick and return us to fine fettle.” Molly gave him a wan smile to mask how little she believed that.

“Indeed.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been meaning to tell you: I haven’t forgotten our bargain.”

“Oh?” She pretended she’d forgotten, when really, it had been all she could think about since she’d won…Harry going back to his disgraceful ways. And Harry using those selfsame skills to weed out bad potential mates for her.

“Yes,” he said rather stiffly. “Our bargain. You won the contest, so I shall be looking for a suitable husband for you in London.”

“Oh. How kind of you.” She didn’t know what else to say.

His eyebrows lowered. “I’m not being at all kind. A man doesn’t go back on his word.”

She clenched her reticule and backed away. “Very well. I think I shall go back to the carriage now. If you don’t mind.”

He seemed to realize he’d been not as charming as he should. “Wait. Please.”

She hesitated.

He attempted a smile. “Pray forgive me my ill manners today. I was foolish to overindulge in spirits the night before a long journey.”

She nodded and withdrew her hand. “Apology accepted.”

Oh, well.

Her ills wouldn’t be cured after a day, that was certain.

She hastened back to the carriage.