If Wishes Were Earls Read Online Free PDF Page B

holding court in the far corner.
    He loves you, he loves you not , her heart prodded.
    “Can I take your silence to mean you’re granting me the supper dance . . .” Fieldgate’s words were both encouraging and full of confidence.
    Harriet barely heard him, her heart hammering wildly. Roxley. With the crush of guests, she’d nearly missed him, but the crowd had parted for a moment and in that magical instant she’d spotted him. The cut of his jaw, the wry smile she loved.
    Her breath stopped, as it had when his lips had teased across the nape of her neck. His hands had caressed her, all of her , and she’d trembled then as she was trembling now.
    “A mistake, Kitten. This is ever so wrong,” he’d whispered that night at Owle Park even as his head had dipped lower, his lips leaving a trail of desire down her limbs.
    Oh, please don’t let it all have been a mistake , she told herself yet again. Harriet took a step toward the earl without even thinking, pulled by the very desire he’d ignited that night, forgetting even that the viscount still held her hand.
    Roxley loves me .
    Or loves you not , that dangerous voice of doubt whispered back.
    “You cannot refuse me, my queen, my Hippolyta,” Fieldgate continued, all gallant manners, though he might as well have been grasping at straws.
    “Yes, yes,” she said absently, glancing quickly back at him before plucking her hand free. Meaning, Yes, I can refuse you. But the viscount took her words for assent and grinned in triumph.
    “Harriet, there is something we need to tell you—” Tabitha began, reaching out to stop her, but Harriet sidestepped her grasp.
    “Yes, dear, you must listen,” Daphne continued like a chorus.
    If they were going to warn her off from spending too much time in the roguish viscount’s company, they needn’t bother. She had no intention of spending another second with Fieldgate.
    Not with Roxley so close at hand. She’d have her answers, he’d apologize profusely, sweep her off her feet and marry her as soon as a Special License could be procured.
    That was how it always happened.
    In fiction , her sensibilities reminded her.
    “Harriet, please,” Daphne called after her.
    She ignored her. Truly, whatever they had to say could hardly matter, but just in case, Harriet hurried a bit, only to find her path blocked by her brother Chaunce.
    Oh, pish! Was there ever a girl more overly blessed with bothersome and meddlesome brothers than she?
    And Chaunce, her second oldest sibling, had that look of unrelenting determination about him.
    All the Hathaways were determined, but Chaunce’s tenacity came with all the solid warmth of a brick wall.
    In December.
    “Harry,” he said, bussing her warmly on the cheek. “There you are. Mother wrote that she thought you would arrive in time to attend tonight.”
    Harriet was not deceived. He hardly looked thrilled to be attending Lady Knolles’s soirée, rather more like the bearer of bad tidings.
    Couldn’t Chaunce, just once, leave well enough alone and just enjoy the world?
    Just as Harriet meant to once she was reunited with her beloved Roxley.
    “And so I have,” she told her brother. “But I must—”
    Chaunce glanced over his shoulder and spied the direction of her determination. If anything, his grim smile now turned into a hard line. “That won’t do, Harry. You can’t just run after him. Not now—”
    Freeing herself from him, she patted her brother on the arm and circled around him, dodging his grasp. “You’ve become as stodgy as George,” she chided. “Roxley is our dear friend. I am merely greeting him. He’ll be delighted to see me.”
    He’d better be . . .
    “Harry—” Chaunce continued as she slipped again into the crowd before he could stop her.
    “No, Harriet! Don’t. Not just yet,” Tabitha called after her, having finally caught up.
    But there was no stopping Harriet now.
    Mr. Chauncy Hathaway turned around and frowned at his sister’s friends.