When Harry Met Molly

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.

After a moment, Lumley looked up, a big grin on his face. “As Prinny’s arbitration committee, we declare that a slight change in the rules would be welcomed by His Royal Highness, who’s not one to shirk a dare himself. Upon a show of hands signifying a majority, the fencing contest and women’s vote will become an official part of the week’s events, Lord Maxwell to record said changes.”

“What he said,” remarked Arrow with a lazy grin, and inclined his head at Lumley.

“All in favor?” Harry looked about the table.

Everyone raised his or her hand, even Sir Richard, who declared he could outfence everyone.

“Shall we adjourn to the library to cast our daily votes, gentlemen?” Harry asked the other Impossible Bachelors.

For the first time, Molly had hopes that she might receive one or more of those votes.

“No,” said Hildur. “We waltz.”

“That’s right,” said Viscount Lumley. “The ladies have been clamoring for a dance. Joan, shall you play for us? We can vote afterward.”

Everyone stood up, even Sir Richard, who was rather pulled up from his seat by Lumley, and went to the drawing room. Joan scowled, but she moved to the piano and began to play.

Molly looked for Harry. She felt rather like a dying plant that needed water. Immediately.

He came straight to her side. “Shall we?” he asked her, his eyes a warmer brown than she had ever seen them.

She nodded, unable to speak. She’d always longed to waltz.

He took her waist and they clasped hands. “You look beautiful,” he said. “Especially when you’re causing trouble.”

“Really?” She could barely get the word out. All she could think about when he was near was what magical things he’d done to her with his fingers and lips. And the odd effect he had on her thoughts.

In short, she had no thoughts when he was holding her.

Yet at the same time, she had so many thoughts when he held her that she was fairly bursting to share them with him and to ask him his thoughts, too, about the silliest things, such as what his favorite color was—hers was the fresh spring green of new leaves, of course—and what animal he’d be if he had to choose; she’d be a bird so she could fly, although she despised worms and wouldn’t want to eat them, which meant she might choose to be a squirrel because they leaped through trees and lived off acorns, which weren’t too terribly bad. She’d tasted one once and had never told a soul.

Harry gave her a slow grin, then said, “What? No clever retort?”

She held on to him tighter and shook her head.

All she knew was that she felt…happy.

Free.

And herself.

With him.