When Harry Met Molly

competition instead.

But hadn’t she already told herself that?

She shook her head, hoping to loosen Harry’s hold on her thoughts.

“All set then?” Harry was back.

“Yes,” she replied, and wondered what he was thinking.

He opened the tent flap for her, and she stepped out.

“We have a big day ahead of us,” he said, his face unreadable. “We must do our very best to win the finale.”

“I know.” She hesitated, but then just came out with it. “You won’t be thinking of me naked, will you, Harry? Because I really need to concentrate.”

“You can rest assured I won’t be thinking of you naked all day,” he said, with what she thought was admirable fighting spirit.

“Thank you. And I won’t be thinking of you naked, either.”

There was the tiniest of pauses.

“Let’s just focus on today,” he finally said. “And remember we’re a team. We want to win big. Think of how we both shall benefit.”

“Yes,” she said, with equal spirit. “A team.”

Harry stuck out his arm, and she took it. But not before she looked one last time at the campsite and committed the scene to memory.

Chapter 34

Harry made sure the day went by in a flurry of recreational activities. A bit of shooting for the men, some lawn bowls for the women while they were gone, and charades in the afternoon. Molly went upstairs to take a nap after tea, and he made sure he’d be nowhere near, or he’d have been tempted to enter her room and repeat what they’d done last night in the tent.

All day he’d had to remind himself not to think about what had transpired in that tent, which of course meant the goings-on there—and Molly—were seldom far from his thoughts.

Now they had about an hour of sunlight left. Harry led the group over the hill to the side of the lake, where Finkle and his two footmen assistants had prepared a crude stage, a rustic dressing area, and a picnic supper to be enjoyed before the dramatic reading.

Each step of the way toward the site of the finale, Harry felt a pang of longing for Molly.

There was the tree on the trail where he’d pulled her hair off a twig and they’d been so happy in their own little leafy world.

And then the campsite Prinny had devised and visited, to his and Molly’s amazement. Although Harry thought the royal welcome paled in comparison to the memories created there after Prinny had left!

A few minutes later, there was the log at the lakeside where Harry and Molly had sat cozily together, discussed their families, and shared blackberry kisses.

And when they all filed by the grassy bank where he’d first introduced Molly to the more intimate delights a man and woman could share, Harry could hardly bear the emotions surging in his chest.

The next day, he and Molly would go their separate ways, and he would miss her. He would miss her very much, but he refused to examine the feeling too closely. He’d immediate responsibilities, after all, as host of this gathering, which was being watched very closely by the Prince Regent himself.

By necessity, Harry kept his churning thoughts to himself, although during the meal, he watched Molly as often as he could without staring. And he laughed. He laughed quite frequently. Lumley and Arrow were particularly witty that night, and the women were sparkling.

Especially Molly.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” she whispered in his ear. “Are you all right?”

“Never better,” he said, forcing himself to grin. She must be in the best of spirits for her performance. “And you?”

“Prepared to win.” Her tone was brisk, but then her gaze softened. “Thanks for the coaching, Harry. And for all your support this week.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, his voice a bit gruff. In the old days, he could always disguise when he wanted a woman. But with Molly, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide his feelings.

Their gazes locked—and then she ran off because Athena was threatening to pour lake water over her head if she didn’t leave the picnic blankets to ready herself for the entertainment immediately. Their gowns and reading materials awaited them behind the dressing area, which was composed of two blankets tacked onto overhanging tree branches, a small table, and a lantern.

“Good luck, ladies,” Lumley called out to all of them. “We gentlemen shall be waiting with bated breath!”

It was, indeed, time for the show. The footmen had already lit the torches. Two velvet curtains were rigged to open between two trees nearby, forming the makeshift stage. The men sprawled out on the linens, awaiting the fate of their mistresses by lighting cheroots and opening flasks of brandy.

According to the selection of straws, Bunny would go first, followed by Athena, Joan, Hildur, and Molly.

Harry would have to wait longer than any other bachelor to see how his companion fared. But he had faith in her—he’d seen her perform “Kubla Khan.” He took a thoughtful sip from his flask and thought that victory might very well be the last thing they’d share, he and Molly. But the thought didn’t buoy him as he expected it should.

Behind the curtain shielding the makeshift dressing area, Molly and the other mistresses were frozen in place, staring at the tree branch that held the women’s special evening gowns. Someone had slashed through Molly’s, apparently with a knife. The skirt hung in tatters, and there was a gaping hole in the bodice and one on the lower back.

“No,” she whispered.

“Oh, Delilah!” Bunny put her hand to her mouth.

Hildur held up the ruined gown and looked through one of the jagged holes. “It is a fishnet now.”

“I know it was Sir Richard,” Molly said without emotion. She’d known all along Sir Richard was after her. And now he’d made his mark.

Bunny’s eyes were wide. “I saw him over here earlier. But I thought he was simply being nosy, as he always is.”

“He hates me,” Molly said flatly.

Bunny squeezed her hand.

“He hates everyone,” Athena said, her eyebrow raised in a weary arch. “But he does seem to hate Lord Harry especially.”

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he?” Joan put an arm around Molly’s shoulder. “He thinks he’s a coward. But we all know Lord Harry is worth a thousand Sir Richards. I don’t care what people say about his army disgrace.”

“Do you know what happened there, Delilah?” Athena asked her.

Molly’s face reddened. She couldn’t tell any of them why Sir Richard hated Harry. Or that Harry was innocent of all accusations. “No,” she said. “But I know Harry. And he is a good man. He’s told me he’s done nothing to hurt Sir Richard, and I believe him.”

“We kill Sir Richard,” Hildur said. “Right now.” She pulled Molly toward the curtain.

“No,” said Athena firmly. “Not now. The show must go on. Kill him later.”

Hildur hesitated, and Molly released her hand. “Thank you”—she smiled at Hildur, then looked at Athena —“but you’re right. The show must go on. And I can wear the gown I have on now.”

It was the bishop’s blue muslin, the first dress of Fiona’s she’d ever worn. She’d donned it this afternoon especially for Harry, a parting gift to him. Because after tonight, he wouldn’t see her in scandalous gowns anymore! He’d be married to Anne Riordan, and Molly would be on the shelf, still pouring out tea for Cousin Augusta.