When Harry Met Molly

She stood back from him, and suddenly, the air was thick with awkwardness.

The whole way home from the lake, the awkwardness didn’t leave them. Molly kept several paces ahead of him, walking steadily, never looking back.

Harry followed close behind, but he had no desire to speak, either. What could he say? They both knew that no matter what happened between them this week, they had no future together. Molly understood that. She was a willing partner in the dangerous pleasure game they were playing together.

So why did he feel so despicable?

Chapter 21

A lady should be able to conduct conversation anywhere, a voice in Molly’s head said.

A lady is not afraid.

Often Molly pretended she was hearing the voice of her mother, saying things she wished Lady Sutton really had told her. But obviously, her mother hadn’t. She’d died before she could give her daughter advice about life.

Which might explain why Molly usually made up things as she went along. She was at supper now with the rest of the company. Somehow, she’d muddled through this week.

It came to her then: a lady always muddles through.

There. Another homemade proverb to add to her repertoire.

“Wine,” Athena was saying in that sultry voice of hers, “is the summation of all that is…eternal.” She cast a mysterious glance around the table and smiled.

The table’s occupants—save Harry, who was brooding, it seemed—appeared suitably impressed.

Indeed, Athena tended to spout inane sayings that Molly was sure that—being a muddler herself—her actress friend made up on the spot. Were her tablemates to review what Athena said, rather than be impressed by her tone of voice and nuance of expression, they would see that she was actually saying nothing.

Molly cleared her throat. “Tell me, Athena, what exactly do you mean by saying wine is the summation of all that is eternal?”

Athena clutched at her pearl strand. “Exactly what I said.”

There was a silence.

“Then you mean that wine is…God?” Molly took a swig of her own wine for courage.

Athena’s eyes widened.

“I’d rather not discuss religion,” Joan said.

“I quite agree,” said Sir Richard.

Of course he would. He was the devil himself, as far as Molly was concerned.

Athena opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Lord Maxwell’s mouth turned up, as if he himself had been aware of Athena’s game and was amused that she’d been caught out.

Athena glared at Molly.

But Molly refused to be cowed. She smiled warmly at Athena in apology for understanding her too well. “Let us sidestep your remark. But perhaps everyone will consider mulling over this saying”—she looked around the table boldly, without any of the nuanced air of her actress rival—“‘All’s fair in love and war.’”

Harry put down his wine glass. “Why should we consider that?”

Molly mentally crossed her fingers. She’d figured out what had been bothering her so much about this week.

What felt…wrong.

What was making her peevish.

Even more so than the risqué nature of the wager.

She took a breath. “I believe this game you gentleman have been playing with us ladies as your pawns is a trifle one-sided. It’s time to make the men competitors this week rather than observers. And we women will vote among ourselves to see who wins.”

The other women gasped. The men were silent as stone. But Molly certainly had everyone’s attention now.

“The men, competing?” Athena said, her brows arched high.

Molly nodded.

“And the women, voting?” Joan curled her lip.

Molly nodded again.

Hildur stared at her. “They shoot you in my country!”

“In this one, too,” murmured Harry.

Molly cast a quick glance at him and was glad to see he didn’t appear too terribly vexed with her. He actually had a little twinkle in his eye.

“Are you a bluestocking, Delilah?” Athena said with a bit of scorn, even though mere hours ago she’d been thrilled that Molly had wangled that hundred-pound purse.

“No, I’m not. I’m just a woman here for a week who would like to have more…fun.” She smiled at Harry, then took another sip of wine. “If the men dare allow it.”

There was a warm, vibrant silence. She felt all the men’s eyes upon her.

Oh, dear heavens. She believed she was flirting successfully with the entire table of bachelors. On her terms, too. She sensed that the women, as well, were finally aware that perhaps there was more to her than they’d assumed.

She took a large sip of wine. There was more to her than she herself had assumed!

It was those sayings of hers. They were helping her out. Especially the new one, the one about muddling through.

Harry finally spoke. “Delilah, need I remind you, the goal of this contest is to crown the best, er, companion.”

“Yes,” she said, hardly able to restrain her excitement. “And you can win points for her in the men’s game. An excellent mistress would choose no less than a skilled protector, would she not? So if everyone agrees, we can choose a game for the men now.”

“Archery?” suggested Joan.

“A horse race, perhaps,” Viscount Lumley said.

Several more suggestions were offered to mildly enthusiastic responses.

“How about fencing?” Molly remembered how often she’d seen Harry and Roderick fence as boys, with large sticks rather then real weapons. “I saw a collection of foils in a case in the library.”

“Oh, yes!” said Athena, folding her hands in front of her bosom. “A fencing tournament!”

All the women clapped. “The gentleman who wins shall receive points for his lady,” Molly suggested, “but the women will also be allowed to cast a vote for their favorite gentleman of the day, other than their own consort, of course.”

Biting her lip, she wondered what the men would think. Lumley and Arrow shifted in their chairs. Lord Maxwell cleared his throat. Sir Richard stared at Molly as if she were the most fascinating creature on earth. Harry rubbed his chin and watched her with a small smile quirking his mouth.

“A fencing tournament, eh?” Harry said. “And a woman’s vote at the end of the day? I believe this is a matter for our arbitration committee to discuss.”

While Arrow and Lumley put their heads together, Molly discussed the possibilities with the other mistresses, all of whom were clearly as excited at the idea as she was.