by Amelia Grey
“Do you have any influence with him?”
“Not half a pint. I don’t know anyone who does. He seems to live in his own world, and he’s very peculiar about who he allows in it.”
Harrison could believe that and it wasn’t good news. He took a drink of his ale. “Through a man named Mr. Hopscotch, the Prince has given me an ultimatum.”
Bray’s eyes narrowed. “I’m familiar with Hopscotch. He’s the Prince’s man. What does he want from you?”
“Not much,” Harrison said in a nonchalant manner. “Just that I marry Miss Angelina Rule or I will go to Newgate, and he’ll see that I stay there for the foreseeable future.”
“What the devil?” The front of Bray’s chair legs hit the floor with a thud. “To prison if you don’t marry Miss Rule?”
“Keep your voice down,” Harrison said, noticing that one of the men at the bar turned to look at them.
Bray’s eyes scanned the room, too. He then leaned over the table and said, “The Prince can do a lot of things but I don’t think he can put you in prison for not marrying someone. That wouldn’t be considered just cause even for him.”
“No, not for refusing to marry her. According to Hopscotch the Prince can and will because I shot a man in a duel last winter.”
Bray whistled low under his breath. “Yes, I remember that. Who the devil was that man?”
“I don’t think I ever knew his name. If I did, I’ve long forgotten it. Hopscotch says the man I shot and half a dozen others will swear to the duel in court so that I will be charged with attempted murder.”
Bray’s eyebrows shot up. “Bloody blackguards. Do you think he was serious?”
“He was serious all right,” Harrison said, remembering the blunderbusses pointed at his chest. “Hopscotch brought armed guards to Thornwick with him and was prepared to take me straight to prison and keep me there while I contested the charges if I hadn’t agreed to be at the ball the other night to meet Miss Rule.”
“Miss Rule is lovely.”
Without question.
Harrison agreed with a nod.
She was the last young lady he wanted to be thinking about or interested in but for some reason she was the only one he met who kept returning to haunt his thoughts. Three days since he’d seen her and he was still thinking about her, about her request. He knew what he was going to do. He just didn’t know when he was going to let her know.
“She seemed intelligent, personable. Even my mother approved of her and you know how unlikely it is for my mother to give anyone a passing glance. Miss Rule is from a good family, I suppose.”
Harrison chuckled ruefully. “Her father is a distant relation to the Prince himself.”
“Ah, so that is why he is trying to find her a title. He’s paying back a family member for a favor.”
“It’s more like her father is in debt up to his whiskers and in jeopardy of debtors’ prison.”
Bray took a drink from his tankard and then said, “It might be a bad choice of words, Harrison, but it appears you are the stone that the Prince is using to get rid of two birds at once.”
“Perfect analogy,” Harrison answered. “And I don’t like it.”
“At one point last year, the Prince tried to force me to marry Louisa, too.”
“I never knew this,” Harrison said with keen interest. “What did he have on you?”
“Nothing nearly as scandalous as a duel. And he never threatened me with prison, either.”
“But this tactic of trying to manipulate marriages just to please himself or his relatives should be stopped.”
“You won’t have any luck with that. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that sovereigns have been interested in marriages for their personal gain as well as for political and financial gain since the beginning of time. I think kings somehow think it’s their duty to arrange marriages for their family members and peers.”
Harrison harrumphed. “The threat of prison is a damned nuisance. I hadn’t planned on coming to London. I need to be at Thornwick overseeing the rebuilding of the house, not here going to balls and playing cards.”
“I’m sure.” Bray took another drink from his tankard. “So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re not interested in her.”
“No, that’s the damned shame of it,” Harrison said and pushed his tankard to the side. “I could be. She was challenging, provocative, and sweetly innocent all at the same time.”
Confusion wrinkled his brow, and Bray said, “Then I don’t understand. What’s the problem?”
“Apparently she has her heart set on another gentleman. Her only interest in me is to keep her father out of debtors’ prison.”
“Hellfire,” Bray whispered. “I can see where that would dampen your interest in her. Who is the blade?”
“The only thing I know is that he’s an officer who was awarded the rank of captain after Waterloo.”
Bray picked up his ale again. “A war hero.”
“It appears that way.”
“If you have his name, we could have a runner from Bow Street see what he can find out about him.”
“No reason to. At the moment, I have no desire to try to win her away from him.”
“Are you sure?”
Am I?
“I’ve been down that hellish road and don’t plan to revisit it.”
“Maybe you won’t have to. You know how fickle young ladies can be. They can get their hearts wrapped up by a man in a uniform one day and be completely in awe of another gentleman the next. I daresay the man can compete with you if you decide you want to make her change her mind.”
Harrison had thought about that and was still thinking about it, but he wasn’t going to talk about it with Bray. He changed the subject by saying, “Why don’t I give you a chance to win back all the money you’ve lost to me. Billiards or cards. Your choice?”
“We’ll have to save the conversation and the cards for another time. I have a meeting with my solicitor.” He rose from his chair and looked down at Harrison with a mock-serious expression. “Keep in mind the courts are usually lax in applying the laws when it comes to duels. Most sympathize with the right of a man to defend or restore his honor. However, most cases don’t have the Prince’s ear.”
“If you are trying to end this conversation on a high note you’re not doing it,” Harrison grumbled.
“Then I’ll try again. If you do choose the comforts of Newgate over the comforts of a pair of feminine arms, I’ll come visit you.”
“You blackguard,” Harrison said and they both laughed.
“I know you’ve met Gwen, but you’ll come to dinner soon and meet the rest of Louisa’s sisters, won’t you?”
“Dinner in your home? That must be a big change for you.”
“It is.”
“All right, yes, I’ll come. Let me know when.”
After Bray left, Harrison motioned for another ale, intent on taking it into the gaming room with him. He had no desire to sit alone and spend the rest of the day brooding. He’d already discovered, over the past couple of days, that whenever he was alone, his thoughts drifted to Miss Rule and her earnest request for him to allow her father and the Prince to assume Harrison would wed her at the end of the Season.
He was determined to keep her off his mind, if only for a short time. He just hadn’t found out how to do it yet. A game of billiards with the laughing group of gentlemen he’d heard earlier should be a worthy diversion for a couple of hours.
A shadow fell across the table and Harrison looked up, thinking it was the server.
“Good day, my lord. May I join you?”
Harrison glanced up to see Mr. Hopscotch. “I was just leaving,” Harrison answered as the servant placed a full tankard in front of him.
“I won’t take much of your time. Only a moment please,” he said and pulled out the chair Bray had recently vacated.
“Are you a member here?” Harrison a
sked.
“No, no, I don’t qualify, of course.” His chest puffed up. “I’m merely a messenger. But the Prince is a member and I am here at his pleasure.”
“Then get on with it,” Harrison said in an exasperated tone. “Tell me what message you have for me from the Prince today.”
“He wants to know if you found favor with Miss Rule as he’d hoped. No one has seen you talk to her the past couple of nights. In fact, no one has seen you at any of the parties.”
“I prefer a quiet game of cards to dancing in the evenings so I haven’t been to any.”
Mr. Hopscotch sat back in his chair. “The Prince will not be happy to hear that.”
“The Prince’s happiness is not my concern.”
A puzzled expression wrinkled the skin around Hopscotch’s eyes. “That I appreciate, but what I don’t understand is your restrained interest in Miss Rule. She is quite eye-catching, intelligent, and her family is given the highest regards by the Prince.”
Harrison scoffed. “Her father is a gambler and risk taker.”
“So, Miss Rule told you about his troubles. Or perhaps you looked into the man’s habits.”
Harrison scoffed again just as quickly as before. “I have no desire to look into anyone’s habits.”
“Perhaps you should give this suggestion from the Prince more thought. In fact, take your time. His creditors have been notified that a solution is in the making so the situation is under control for the present. You don’t need to marry her before the end of the Season so there is no rush.”
That was good to hear because Harrison needed more time. The same thing Miss Rule had asked for. More time. If he wanted it, shouldn’t he give her the same courtesy?
Hopscotch fiddled with the long ends of his neckcloth. “What you do has always been up to you,” Hopscotch continued as he rose from the chair. “I won’t bother you again until the end of the Season, but I’ll see you then. Whether I bring the guards is up to you.”
Harrison picked up his drink and took a sip. Yes, Miss Rule was captivating, intriguing, and sensuous in a way that drew him. If he decided to pursue her, he would do so for one reason and one reason only: because he wanted to.
Chapter 8
Have you not heard it said full oft, a woman’s nay doth stand for nought?
The Passionate Pilgrim
Harrison set the brake and then jumped down from his curricle. The small Mayfair home looked well-tended with a tall, neatly trimmed yew hedge lining each side and short, boxed shrubs crowding the front. It was another afternoon of sunshine. Three days in a row of cloudless blue skies at this time of year was rare for London.
The spring air had a bite to it, but warmth from the sun made the chill easy to bear. He shook his head. He would have much rather been at Thornwick than in London, looking for a wife. Hopefully the weather was just as nice at the estate and the laborers were well on the way to rebuilding the house.
All his efforts to get Miss Rule out of his thoughts had failed. She was decidedly more captivating than any of the other young ladies he’d met since returning to London. And no matter how many times he tried to talk himself out of it, he wanted to see her again. Talk to her. Find out if he was still as attracted to her as his imagination and his body were telling him he was. It was time he gave her the answer to her request.
Harrison sauntered up the stone walkway. He lifted the brass knocker and gave it two hard raps. From inside the house barking exploded and, for an instant, Harrison wondered if all the hounds in hell were waiting for him behind that door.
“Hush up that racket before I get the broom after you,” he heard a woman yell from inside. The barking quieted to a soft woof or two, but the loud talking continued. “Come on, the lot of you, into the music room. That’s right. You know I’m not going to open the door so we can see who it is until you’re all in there. You too, Molly. There you go. Now stay quiet or I won’t let you out until you’re fed and put to bed.”
The door opened and Harrison saw a short, sturdy woman with a flat face and big brown eyes peering up at him. “Good afternoon, sir, may I help you?”
The servant’s voice was a bit softer when she spoke to him. He swept his hat off his head and said, “Yes, I’m the Earl of Thornwick here to see Miss Rule.”
“I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said with a curtsy. She stepped aside and added, “Come in. I guess Miss Rule forgot to tell me she was expecting an important caller.”
“Well, she’s not____” As soon as he spoke the dogs heard his voice and started barking again.
“Quiet, you ill-mannered brood,” the housekeeper yelled over her shoulder. “Can’t you hear we have a lord as a guest in the house?”
From the sound of the dogs, Harrison would guess there were at least three of them and possibly more. Animals were never allowed in his house when he was growing up. If Harrison or one of his brothers had wanted to make a pet out of one of the hunting or herding dogs, his mother would remind them that four boys were enough to have inside the house. She wouldn’t allow dogs, too.
“Begging your pardon, your lordship, what were you saying?”
“I would like to see Miss Rule.”
“She’s in the back garden working on her paintings. I’ll show you into the drawing room and then go tell her you’re here.”
In the house with the noisy dogs or the quiet of the garden? Harrison handed the woman his hat and gloves. “Perhaps I could just join her in the garden. Do you think that would be possible, Mrs.—?”
The woman smiled shyly, clearly flattered he wanted to know her name. “Oh, my name is Bickmore, your lordship. Mrs. Bickmore. And yes, if you say it’s all right to visit with her in the garden who am I to say different. It’s fine by me. I wouldn’t ever question an earl, but I don’t think Sam’s going to like it.”
Sam?
Harrison knew Miss Rule was an only child so it wasn’t possible Sam was her brother. Did she have another suitor? Was Sam the army captain? Perhaps he was a relative. But surely the housekeeper wouldn’t call a guest by his Christian name. In any case, the polite thing to do would be to stay in the drawing room and wait until the gentleman left, but how often had Harrison ever done the polite thing.
“Is Sam with her now?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. I’d like to meet him.”
A worried expression twisted her face as she laid his hat and gloves aside. “He’s not the friendly sort, if you know what I mean.”
No doubt the man was a pompous blade and would not take kindly to an earl intruding on his time with the lovely miss. But that didn’t give Harrison a moment’s hesitation.
“I do,” Harrison acknowledged. “That won’t bother me.” He wasn’t the friendly sort, either, so they would get along very well together.
“I’ll take you to her,” she said and started lumbering down the corridor.
Harrison followed the woman to the back of the house. She opened the door and moved aside so Harrison could walk past her and out onto the stoop. He caught a glimpse of Miss Rule sitting in a chair looking as if she was bending over something. The next thing Harrison saw was something large, dark, and growling loping toward him.
Miss Rule rose and yelled, “Sam! Stop!”
The brindle-colored dog kept coming and growling. “Sam,” she called again and started toward them.
The dog knew his mistress’s voice. He skidded to a stop at the bottom step, giving Harrison a curled-lip, wide-stance warning, a low growl coming out of his strong jaws.
“Sam, sit,” Miss Rule added in a strong voice.
Sam immediately rested on his haunches but kept his big black eyes locked on Harrison. By the looks of the animal, he was at least part bull terrier. His shoulders and legs were muscular and sturdy but thankfully he wasn’t as large as most of his breed. Harrison knew to be respectful of the dog’s territory so he remained perfectly still when he heard Mrs. Bickmore close the door behind him. Bull terriers were fai
thful to their masters but wouldn’t hesitate to threaten a stranger.
Not wanting to appear aggressive to the growling dog, Harrison didn’t look him directly in the eyes but said under his breath, “Don’t worry, ol’ chap. I promise not to touch her. At least while you’re around.”
Harrison kept his attention on Miss Rule. She walked toward him with an easy, confident stroll. She wore a paint-stained apron over a pale-gray dress. A brown woolen shawl covered her shoulders and was knotted at her breasts. A narrow green ribbon, tied neatly in a bow underneath her chin, held a wide-brimmed straw hat on her head. Her long golden-brown tresses flowed from beneath the hat and shimmered in the sunlight.
She was dressed nothing like the beautiful, expensively gowned goddess he’d seen three nights before, but for some reason he was even more captivated by the way she looked today. She reminded him of a mountain stream in the first few days of spring. Cool, clear, and refreshing. Her casual, at-home look made her appear chaste, wholesome, and very approachable. The flush on her cheeks was becoming, and he wondered if the pink tint was from his unexpected arrival or from the sun.
She stopped by the dog and patted him on his big head, then rubbed the side of his neck. “You are such a brute, Sam. I will have to apologize for your inhospitable welcome to his lordship.”
Inhospitable? That’s putting the greeting far nicer than it actually was.
“Go lie down, Sam,” she added.
The brindle hesitated. Miss Rule patted him again and lightly shoved his head, urging him to move away. Obviously satisfied, for the time being at least, that Harrison was no threat to his mistress, Sam turned and walked over to where her chair was and lay down.
“He minds well,” Harrison offered. “I’m afraid I will have to apologize to Mrs. Bickmore.”
Miss Rule gave him a curious look. “Why is that?”
“She told me Sam wasn’t the friendly sort. I didn’t believe her.”
“He’s protective of me but he’s never failed to obey me.”
“I’m not sure that gives me comfort.”
She gave him a knowing smile. He could tell she loved it that her dog had caught him off guard.
