Being Lady Harriet's Hero: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 4)

by Arietta Richmond

  He was terrifyingly certain that, should he gather her to him, he would be unable to stop himself from kissing her.

  At this moment, watching the flicker of sadness cross her face, followed by what seemed… could it possibly be… like longing… he wanted more than ever to kiss her. Propriety be damned. Somehow, in the last month, he had come to care for her in a new and different way. He pushed the thoughts aside and firmly repeated to himself, mentally ‘Charlton’s sister – not for you!’.

  Lady Harriet took a deep breath and the normal bright smile appeared on her face. She spoke politely, granting Mr Featherstonehaugh a curtsey.

  “I wish you well of the season, Mr Featherstonehaugh, and your family. I will look forward to making new discoveries with you when you return.”

  Her words were followed by another soft voice, hesitant but clear, surprising Lady Harriet into turning slightly to look.

  “As do I Mr Featherstonehaugh – this has been a most enlivening few sennights, which I have much enjoyed.” Miss Carpenter actually blushed slightly as she spoke.

  Lord Geoffrey and Lady Harriet shared a startled look, and both, at the identical moment, raised an eyebrow. The understanding between them was instant, and they found themselves then repressing laughter. It would seem that the usually somewhat stiff-necked Miss Carpenter had been charmed rather more than might have been expected!

  Mr Featherstonehaugh swept them all a flourishing bow, thanked them for their words, and took himself off to pack.

  ~~~~~

  As they swept up the drive of Meltonbrook Chase, Lord Geoffrey felt a little ridiculous. Here he was, arriving in his own new carriage, with a groom, two footmen and a valet. After all of those years at war, this entourage seemed excessive, yet he had no choice. He had left Walters, the other unusually skilled footman sent by Setford, at Witherwood Chase to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. With him, he had Peterson, his valet Hurst, Ashley as the second footman, and Jobs as groom and driver.

  He had concluded that the simplest way to prevent his two suspect conspirators from removing evidence while he was away, was to to take them with him. They could scarcely refuse his command, but their surly expressions upon being told that they had been chosen to accompany him had seemed a good indication that Peterson’s suspicions were correct.

  His thoughts were brought back to the present as the house came into sight through the winter bare trees – magnificent, and imposing. And a scene of mild chaos, with multiple carriages vying for space before the doors. It would seem that everyone had arrived at once.

  When he alighted from the carriage, he was swept up into exuberant greetings and laughter, leaving poor Peterson and Hurst to deal with unloading and managing the distribution of his belongings to the appropriate places, whilst he tried to keep straight all of the new faces and names through a whirlwind of introductions which only slowed down once they were all ensconced in the parlour with refreshments.

  With a few exceptions, they were a far happier group than they had been a year ago. The year had wiped the outward traces of war from the lines of their faces, had softened the edges of their bodies a little and removed the gauntness of years of hard living, and, most importantly, had brought love and family back into their lives.

  Hunter Barrington, Duke of Melton, was a transformed man – he had returned grief stricken and lost in so many ways, yet here he was with his delightful new Duchess and obviously very happy. Charlton was equally happy, and was seated beside his betrothed, Lady Odette, who, with her aunt Lady Farnsworth, had been invited to their gathering as well. Bart and Gerry were tucked away in the corner, probably talking horses – but, whilst they were the quietest in the room, and perhaps still carried the strongest after effects of the war in their minds, they too looked cheerful. Hunter’s sisters, Lady Sybilla and Lady Alyse, had joined their conversation and appeared to be holding their own on the topic of horses.

  The Dowager Duchess of Melton and Lady Sylvia had settled with Lady Farnsworth, and seemed deep in discussion of the plans for Charlton’s wedding. The only others in the room were Lady Harriet and Miss Carpenter, Hunter’s brother Charles was away, apparently dealing with estate matters elsewhere, much to his mother’s displeasure.

  Lady Harriet had settled on the seat of the pianoforte near the large windows to the rear of the room, her hands stroking its surface almost reverently. Miss Carpenter seemed rather lost, but, faithful shadow to Lady Harriet, she had settled on a small elegant chair off to one side, and simply watched.

  It seemed wrong that Raphael was not there too. What could be so important that he would sail off and miss this gathering?

  The thought was fleeting and Lord Geoffrey found himself drawn into conversation with Hunter, Charlton and their Ladies and the afternoon disappeared into the flow of discussion.

  Somewhere along the way, Lord Geoffrey realised that a quiet, yet beautiful thread of melody was winding its way through the room. Not loud enough to disrupt any conversation, but soothing and relaxing in the background. He was drawn, as always to watch Lady Harriet, whose fingers on the keys were producing the marvellous sound. She seemed more still, more relaxed than he had ever seen her, and her eyes were closed – she played from memory, by feel alone, seemingly unaware of her audience, just lost in the music. He had not thought it possible for her to look more beautiful than she usually did – but like this, she was stunning.

  With a start, he realised that one of the others had addressed him – had possibly spoken his name more than once.

  “My apologies – I am a little… distracted.”

  “So I see.” Hunter laughed good-naturedly and returned to the topic. “I must show you Nerissa’s plans for the grounds – come spring, you won’t recognise the gardens. We will have the most beautiful park of any estate in the county. But enough of us – what have you to tell us about your new estate? How goes your restoration of Witherwood Chase? I hear that it’s a huge rambling place that needed quite a bit of maintenance.”

  “That is an accurate, if rather understated summary! It’s five or six hundred years of rambling additions to the building worth of unmaintained mess.”

  Hunter laughed at his expression, whilst Charlton added his own commentary.

  “It is, at least, an elegantly proportioned building – through all of those additions, and no matter how tangled the interior layout is, at least they managed to keep the exterior attractive!”

  “True.” Lord Geoffrey turned to Lady Nerissa, “I believe you would enjoy the gardens, my Lady, for the front between the wings of the house is a lovely formal pattern, and the rear, enclosed between the other wings has been a well-designed herb and scent garden. They appear to have had little good care for some years, yet retain the evidence of their design. I would be honoured should you be willing to apply your skills to helping me plan their restoration and improvement.”

  The young Duchess favoured him with a glowing smile which lit up her face and clapped her hands together in delight.

  “Nothing would please me more, Lord Geoffrey – I will be sure to inspect them in great detail when we gather at your estate for Easter.”

  Conversation flowed, and Lord Geoffrey drifted from one group to another, more relaxed than he had been in months, yet always aware of the music winding through the room, his eyes drifting, again and again, back to Lady Harriet as she played.

  This was something of her that he had not known, and it intrigued him that one who was normally so active and energetic could be so still and peaceful.

  Eventually, dinner was announced, and Miss Carpenter stepped forward, diffidently, and gently touched Lady Harriet’s shoulder, bringing her back to awareness of the room. Lady Harriet flushed, and looked rather surprised to find that so much time had passed. She stood, composed herself, and stepped forward.

  Somehow, Lord Geoffrey found that he was in the perfect position to offer her his arm, and lead her in to dinner – and to discover himself seated between her, and
Lady Odette. Dinner was both delightful and torture, for Lord Geoffrey was acutely aware of Lady Harriet’s presence, so close beside him, her scent winding its way around him, and of the fact that he should not be reacting to her the way that he was, the way that he always did, no matter his resolve to not do so.

  To add to his discomfiture, Lady Odette insisted on thanking him, yet again, for his actions in saving her life, and Charlton’s, earlier in the year, even though those actions had meant the death of her father. Lady Harriet’s eyes shone with that alarming hero worship again, as the story was told for those who had not been present at the time. And he had been hoping that she had stopped seeing him that way! How could he ever live up to such a perception? He was no hero, he was simply a man who did what must be done, when it was needed.

  By the end of dinner, he was heartily glad to escape to the library and a glass of port with the other men.

  With only Hounds present, Lord Geoffrey felt comfortable enough to discuss, a little, his mission for Setford, and his current frustrating lack of progress. They all agreed to keep an eye on the behaviour of Jobs and Ashley whilst the men were at Meltonbrook Chase. Charlton regaled them with the tale of Lady Harriet trapping Lord Geoffrey into letting her help with the exploration of Witherwood Chase, and great merriment and teasing resulted. But it was not without sympathy.

  Geoffrey followed up with a description of the findings so far, including the weapons ‘museum’ in the attic – a find that they were all keen to see for themselves. His tales of dust sheets and mouse droppings, ugly paintings and archaic furniture were greeted with less enthusiasm, until he mentioned some of Mr Featherstonehaugh’s astounding valuations of the pieces. He was slapped on the back and congratulated on his luck. In his opinion, it was only fair compensation for all his, so far fruitless, searching for hidden compartments or passages.

  They settled to talking about possible places a door could be hidden, or a mechanism to unlock one, in a room or a hall. Lord Geoffrey took careful note of their ideas – anything was worth a try if it got him a step further towards finding the blasted papers for Setford.

  This was the point at which, again, he missed Raphael’s presence – for Raphael was the one who would have immediately ‘seen’ a logical plan of attack to test for, and undoubtedly find, the hidden passages. His sharp mind had always been able to lay out an approach better than any of them could.

  Ah well, surely he would see Raphael at Charlton’s wedding, although, God willing, by then he would have found the papers and be done with this mission.

  ~~~~~

  Lady Harriet had excused herself from the parlour and gone in search of the necessary. That urgent business dealt with, as she returned along the hall, she heard the murmur of the men’s voices through a door she was passing.

  She stopped. Eavesdropping was wrong… but… she wanted to know what they spoke of… what was men’s conversation about, when they were by themselves?

  Feeling guilty, she applied her ear to the door. They were discussing the many ways that hidden doors and passages, rooms and compartments could be made or unlocked, in a house! What a remarkable thing to talk about. But wait… they seemed to be discussing how Lord Geoffrey could find such a thing in his house! At the faint sound of a servant’s footfall, imagination aflame, she stepped away from the door, and returned to the parlour.

  ~~~~~

  Peterson, leaving Hurst to wait for Lord Geoffrey in his guest suite, went out to the stables to make sure that the carriage and horses had been suitably cared for, and to check on Ashley and Jobs.

  The two had been given a small room to share in the stable block, whilst Hurst and Peterson had been given an equally tiny room in the servants’ quarters of the house. With this many people, and all of their staff, in attendance, space was at a premium.

  He stepped into the shadowed stables and paused. The two men were there, alone, at the far end of the row of stalls, talking quietly. Peterson froze, easing back into deeper shadow behind a rack hung with horse rugs, the scent of horses and hay rich around him, and listened. They were not speaking loudly, yet the words carried to him clearly by some trick of the building’s structure.

  Horses snuffled, but apart from that, there was only the men’s voices to hear.

  “It’ll be right ‘til we’s back. He can’t be a’searchin through the place while he’s here.” Ashley didn’t entirely sound like he believed what he was saying.

  “True, and that silly lookin’ little art man’s gone off home for the holiday too. So with Lord Geoffrey and Lady Harriet here we should be good.”

  “Still, soon’s we’s back, we’d better git ‘em moved. ‘E might find the top spot, but ‘e’s not like t’find the deep one.”

  “But Ash, what about later like. D’ye reckon any of them fancy blokes‘ll be ever comin’ back? ‘R we hidin this stuff fer nuthin?”

  “Shut that thinkin Jobs! Old master paid us good to keep t’stuff safe, ‘n we will. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Right then. What’ll we do if’n he gets close then? D’ye reckon as we could scare ‘im off the place?”

  “Not likely. ‘E’s a tough one – you seen ‘im with them swords. Right scared me proper that. We don’ wanna be buying any trouble. Just keep the stuff hid. We can worry about what to do else when we has to, ‘n not afore.”

  At that, Jobs absently stroked the nose of the nearest horse, and the two took themselves off through the row of stalls and out the door into the grooms’ quarters.

  Peterson waited a few minutes, then eased out of shadow, checked on the horses, and the carriage in the next section of the building, and headed back to the house. It was good that the men had, apparently, seen Lord Geoffrey at weapons practice, and been scared by his skill. So they should be!

  He was no closer to knowing what it was, exactly, that the men had hidden, but the conversation at least confirmed that it was still at Witherwood Chase, and that they wouldn’t be taking it elsewhere any time soon.

  They were canny, but they’d have to eventually make a mistake – one way or another, Peterson intended to find the entry to the secret passages – he was, more than ever, convinced that the papers, if that was what they were ‘keeping safe’ must be hidden in secret rooms or passages somewhere in the upper floors of the house. By now, there wasn’t a lot of the main area of the house left unexplored, so secret places became more and more likely.

  With Christmas and Twelfth Night gone, Lord Geoffrey was ready to tackle the mystery of the hidden papers again. His conversations with the other Hounds had filled him with renewed determination to prod and poke at every possible piece of the walls and framing, until he found a way into the hidden passages – for he was convinced that such passages existed. What Peterson had overheard whilst they were at Meltonbrook Chase had just added to that certainty.

  They were watching Ashley and Jobs closely since their return, in the hope that the two might accidentally reveal an entrance. At this instant, though, Lord Geoffrey’s biggest concern was Lady Harriet. For, once the nearly complete assessment of all of the paintings and antique furniture was done, how was he to keep her occupied? If she should insist on continuing to ‘help’, so that she was always with him, how could he prevent her from noticing his rather eccentric looking behaviour, when he started poking and prodding at the walls of his house?

  As if his thoughts of Lady Harriet had summoned her, she and Miss Carpenter arrived at that moment.

  Mr Featherstonehaugh had arrived just a few hours ago, and settled in, newly enthused about his task, and keen to finish the assessment. Although, it had seemed to Lord Geoffrey, he was rather sad that it was coming to an end. He had asked, with studied casualness, if any new rooms, or storage spaces, had been discovered?

  ‘I wish’ had been Lord Geoffrey’s internal thought, although he wasn’t wishing for quite the same sort of new hoard of treasure that Mr Featherstonehaugh seemed to be.

  Interestingly, Miss Carpenter bl
ushed like a schoolgirl when Mr Featherstonehaugh greeted her with his customary flourishing bow and a kiss on her hand. Lady Harriet observed it with a raised eyebrow again, and said nothing.

  A plan was devised, mapping out which parts of the house had yet to be checked for paintings, cleaned and set to rights, and they all set about their appointed tasks. Lord Geoffrey stood in his study, staring, unseeing, at the faded tapestry before him, as he decided where he would start.

  Perhaps, given the conversations that Peterson had overheard, with mentions of down, and deep, he should work in the cellars and the servants’ belowstairs rooms. It would be braving the wrath of Mrs Chester, and possibly disrupting his dinner, but it had to be done.

  ~~~~~

  Days later, he was no further advanced, and had achieved little but convincing most of his staff that he was mad.

  His obsessive need to have seen, touched and inspected every single corner of his home utterly puzzled them –no member of the nobility they had ever met before had given a damn about such things.

  And so it went.

  Mr Featherstonehaugh, with the able assistance of Lady Harriet and Miss Carpenter, and the guidance of Peterson, worked steadily through the remaining rooms, as well as the large quantity of paintings and objects which Lord Geoffrey had instructed be brought down from the attics, for their convenience.

  Lord Geoffrey, with ever increasing frustration, worked steadily through the entire house, for what felt like the thousandth time, poking and prodding at walls, carvings, architraves and anything else, likely or unlikely, which might conceivably conceal a mechanism to open a hidden door or panel.

  He drove the frustration from his mind by spending a few hours at the end of each day on weapons practice, trying out progressively, all of the remarkable collection of swords and other weapons that the room in the attics had provided.