“Then I shall do my best.”
Harriet frowned. She’d thought he’d be more rattled by her little act of rebellion. “I thought you would be angry.”
“Why would I be angry?”
“You are a man.”
“I am a man. Your man.”
Her cheeks heated. My man? Yes, yes, he washerman. Why did that sound so thrilling?
“Have you been drinking?” He suddenly asked.
“What if I have?”
Another pause. This one longer than the last.
Harriet strained her ears. Had he left?
She smirked.
She had won again. Things were looking brighter by the moment! She giggled. A giggle that was interrupted by the opening of the door that connected the neighboring chamber.
A large figure filled the doorway, eyes blazing as they settled on her, fleetingly dropping to the glass in her hand.
Drat.
She’d forgotten to lock that door! She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare step into this chamber.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “Am I allowed to stand in the threshold?”
“That much is allowed.”
He leaned against the door, causally crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you drinking?”
She shrugged. “Nothing much. A spot of gin.”
“I see. And just where did you get the liquor?”
She pointed at the box containing her collection of hats and bonnets.
“Not where you hid your liquor. Who sold it to you?”
“Oh, no one sold it to me. I got it as a gift from a friend.”
“What friend gives gin as a gift?”
She grinned at him. “Agoodfriend.”
“You do know that stuff is likely contraband? Just how muchdidyou have to drink?”
She shot him a reproachful look, lowering herself to the floor before the bed, leaning back against the frame. “What does it matter? All that matters is that this gin is keeping me company on my wedding night.”
He hunched down as well. “May I have some?”
She arched a brow. “You wish to drink with me?”
“Why not?” He sat and leaned against one side of the doorframe. “It seems like you are having fun.”
