Read Online Lord Haversham Takes Command by Heidi Ashworth - Free Book Online Page A

Mira opened the door just wide enough to allow him to sidle through, whereupon she shut it silently behind him. Once he was in, however, there were few places for him to go. He stood, towering over her as he looked everywhere but at her, a habit of his that had become more than a little distasteful.
    Just when she began to worry that her mother would discover them in such a compromising situation, Mira realized he hunted for an alternative exit from the room. It wasn’t until he bolted for the window, and she spied the butt of a pistol tucked into the waistband of his breeches that she began to form new opinions as to his continual presence in unexpected locations.
    “Harry, are you in some kind of trouble?” she demanded as he thrust one muscular leg through the window. When the other followed and he slid through, she shrieked in alarm, sure he would at any moment completely disappear only to be found dashed to pieces on the ground many feet below. “Harry!” she cried as she dashed to the open casement.
    She ought not to have feared for he stood at ease, his feet braced against a piece of molding half a man’s length below the window, a hand on each side of the casement, no sign of weakness showing in the muscles that lined his arms. His white shirt fluttered freely in the breeze, as did his hair, and as he leaned into the room, his green eyes blazed with a message she did not fully understand.
    Instinctively, she bent towards him, her eyes closed and her lips parted in expectation of a kiss, resolved that, this time, she would not slap him. In fact, should this version of Harry remain, she would never need slap him again. Instead, he put his mouth to her ear to whisper “many thanks.” When she opened her eyes, heart pounding in her chest, he was gone.
    Yet, he had been there — the Harry of her dreams. The Harry she dreamed of, the man she had always expected him to become, was adventurous, strong, dashing, and brave. Clearly, there was an important reason for him to hide his true self, the one who was startlingly similar to the one she believed herself to have invented, by behaving like a shallow youth. The question, one of many, was whether she were the object of his deceit or merely a chance looker-on.
    The idea bore more contemplation. He had behaved the perfect fool when he had visited with her parents and brothers, yet he was much more the Harry she had expected when it was only the two of them. What was so important that he must keep his true self hidden from her family? She felt that if she were to put the question to him when they were alone, he would as likely lie as not. She found she could not abide a liar but owned the possibility of secrets so important to be kept that the truth could not be shared. Depending on his reasons, she could find it in herself to forgive him.
    Whatever the case may be, Mira knew one thing: she had felt sure he meant to kiss her as he stood at the window, and for the first time in her life, was rather afraid she had meant to kiss him back. The tumult that had started in her chest when she feared he might plunge to his death on the ground below had subsided a bit, though perhaps it only seemed so in comparison to the insistent fluttering in her belly. Pressing her hands to her stomach, she moved to the washstand to begin her morning ablutions, suddenly determined to look her best.
    As she washed her face and combed her hair, she was set on accomplishing a number of other imperatives as well. First, she must discover what it was Harry was hiding, as well as answers to so many questions, such as why he had passed the night in the passage outside her room, and why he had again behaved as the tiresome Bertie. If the reasons for his sham performances were acceptable, and if he trusted her enough to tell her the truth, that was all she needed to feel confident that he was the man she wished to marry. When she was honest with herself, she admitted that he always had been. Next, she