by Liana Lefey
While she waited, Harriett smoothed her hair, applied a light dusting of powder to her face, and daubed a bit of lavender scent to her neck. Her sister returned a moment later and presented her with a pair of gold filigree earrings. “Where did these come from?” She was sure she’d never seen them before.
“Arabella gave them to me,” answered Cat with a shrug, handing them to her. “They were a birthday gift from Elizabeth and Sir George. I think they’re lovely, but she didn’t much fancy them. I couldn’t believe it when she gave them to me.”
Harriett stared down at the jewelry in her palm. The work was exceptionally fine. Elizabeth would never have given Arabella such a gift. They had to have come from Oxenden. She wondered how many other “gifts” he’d given her in secret. She sat quietly while Cat fixed them onto her earlobes. She felt odd wearing them, but to refuse would arouse her sister’s curiosity.
“There, now you look a veritable queen,” said Cat, pleased with her handiwork. “Shall we?”
It was then that Harriett noticed her sister’s appearance. “You’re already dressed.”
“Yes, well it is nearly seven, you know.”
“I am well aware of the time,” Harriett snapped. “Exactly how long has Manchester been here?”
“He arrived just after three.”
Harriett didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. “Do you mean to tell me that, knowing the problems I’ve had with the man, you left him alone with Papa?”
Cat rolled her eyes. “I assure you their conversation had nothing to do with you. They were nattering on about some new building project Manchester is planning to finance. I was neither needed nor wanted, and as I was bored out of my wits by it all, yes, I left them and came up to change.”
The new sick ward. It had to be! Harriett’s heart beat a little faster. He had been serious! The smile she’d felt forming on her lips faltered. Or was it all part of some hideous ruse? She dare not allow herself to hope.
“Well, that seems to have put a binding on your tongue,” murmured Cat.
“There was some discussion about adding a building to the grounds. A building specifically to house the sick and help prevent the spread of contagion to the healthy,” Harriett explained. “I didn’t think he’d taken my idea seriously. I still don’t. I think he’s up to something. Something unpleasant.”
“So speaks the once-upon-a-time idealist. Where has your optimism gone?”
Harriett stared at her for a moment. “Do you want to know the real reason why I left the Penworth ball early?”
Cat’s blue eyes widened. “It wasn’t Russell, was it? It was Manchester!”
“Yes. We had a disagreement that night—about William,” she added before Cat could do more than open her mouth to inquire. It was mostly true. Well, partly true.
“You set your tongue loose, didn’t you?”
“Indeed,” Harriett conceded, her cheeks warming over her sister’s choice of words. “And though it was immensely satisfying at the time, I now deeply regret it. When Manchester did not return to the Hospital afterward, I thought maybe he’d decided to give up. I heard nothing for more than a week, and”—her voice broke—“Oh, Cat! I so wanted to believe I’d won! But now he’s here and talking to Papa, and I cannot believe he is not up to some devilry.”
When she finally spoke, Cat’s voice was hard. “Have you any knowledge about him that he might prefer to remain private?”
“Open warfare is not an option.”
“Who said anything about open?” Her sister’s eyes glittered dangerously. “I’ll ask Letty and Bea about him and see what they have to say. They know everything about everybody.”
Harriett fought down a spurt of panic. “You cannot be obvious about it! If he finds out that either of us is asking questions—”
“Relax,” said her sister with a smile far too wicked for her tender years. “I know how to be discreet. All I’ll have to do is nudge the conversation in the right direction. Once they get started they won’t stop until they’ve exhausted the subject. It’ll be like shaking a plum tree at the height of harvest season—I’ll simply wait for the fruits to fall.”
“Please be careful,” Harriett begged. “I appreciate your willingness to help, but I do not wish to invite yet more trouble or distract you from your purpose.”
“Why should it distract me? In helping you defeat your enemy, I may gain some information that can further my purpose. The man must have some unmarried acquaintances, after all.”
“I should have a care about pursuing any of his friends,” Harriett muttered. “Birds of a feather, you know.”
Her sister laughed. “I’m quite sure I can handle myself. Probably better than you and certainly better than you seem to think. I’m young, but I’m not blind nor am I deaf. I’ve spent my whole life listening to you, Arabella, Elizabeth, and all of your friends. I’ve learned how to navigate Society through observing your successes—and failures.”
Harriett met her steady gaze, wondering. Did she know about Arabella? But how? She’d been out visiting a friend the day their sister had come home in disgrace, and they’d had no advance warning of her arrival. Had Arabella, against Papa’s bidding, confided in her before she’d been spirited away?
The gold now dangling from her ears had come into Cat’s possession at some point outside of the carefully monitored visitations allowed by Papa before their errant sister’s departure. Did Cat know? Harriett longed to ask, but decided against it. It wasn’t worth the risk.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m glad to know you’ve gained such wisdom without having to endure the hardships that went with many of those lessons. And I’m very glad to have you as my ally. Learn what you can about him then—carefully. I shan’t turn down any information that might be of help in defeating him.”
“Wonderful!” said Cat. “And I promise he shall never know from whence your knowledge comes. No one would ever suspect me.” She opened her eyes wide and fluttered her long, curly lashes. “After all, everyone knows I’m empty-headed.”
“Catherine Dunhaven, you are no such thing!”
“Of course not,” she agreed with a sniff of disdain. “But letting everyone believe I am has its uses. The world is kinder to women who don’t let on they have a mind beyond that which is required to look pretty and keep a man’s house in order.”
Harriett let show her profound disapproval. “I cannot believe I am hearing this. I detest being treated like some featherbrained twit just because I’m a woman. I’ve had an extraordinarily difficult time convincing the world I’m worthy of its respect, and you want to encourage its derision of our sex?”
Her sister shook her head. “Not at all. I simply know which battles I wish to fight, and that is not one of them. I am not like you, Harriett. I’ve no desire to strive with the world. And though I know it will offend you further to hear me say it, I’m quite happy to let men think me a beautiful flibbertigibbet because it will be far easier to catch one of them that way.”
“But don’t you want someone who will appreciate you for who you truly are?”
“Of course! I should like nothing better. And perhaps, if I am lucky and choose well, I shall end up with a man capable of seeing me as more than a brood mare. But in the end, if I must settle for one who views me in such an unflattering light—well, that is what friends are for.”
“I could never marry a man who did not respect me as an equal,” Harriett told her, aghast.
“Which is why you will have great difficulty in finding a husband. You ask too much of the typical male. William was not like most men, as you’ve said countless times—and even he was surprised by you in the beginning, if you remember. It isn’t that I don’t want a husband who respects my intellect, but I must marry this year. I cannot afford to be too exacting. All I require is that he be kindhearted and a good provider. The rest can come later—after I’ve secured his name and protection.”
“And if it doesn’t come at all?”
“Then I shall be content to let him think me an adorable fool as long as he holds up his end of the bargain.”
Harriett looked at her sister with new eyes. “I think your future husband is in for the shock of his life.”
Cat’s smile turned sly. “Only if I choose to reveal myself in the end.” She patted an errant curl back into place. “We’d best get below before Papa talks the man to death and gives him more information than he ought.”
Twelve
Roland looked up as the two women entered the room, and his mouth went dry as Harriett came around to sit opposite him. Her hair was up in a simple yet elegant arrangement, and she wore a pale green that brought out the color in her eyes. The teal gown she’d worn at the Penworth ball had had a similar effect, he remembered.
The memory of that night—of that kiss—assaulted him physically. She, on the other hand, looked cool and confident, as if the whole thing had never happened. He wondered how long she could keep up the façade.
Her sister sat beside him with a little bounce. “I was so pleased when Harriett told me you’d be joining us for dinner. Not that she and Papa aren’t excellent company, but it’ll be so nice to have someone new to talk to,” she said cheerily, earning her father’s stern glare.
Roland chuckled. “I suppose the saying ‘familiarity breeds contempt’ is somewhat true, isn’t it?” The girl was full of vim and vigor, her blue eyes curious, her manner engaging—and as unlike her sister as anything in both looks and temperament. By all rights, she ought to have been the more attractive of the pair. Instead, he had to fight not to stare at the taciturn Harriett. “I shall endeavor to be more entertaining than I was this afternoon, my lady.”
The blonde girl batted her lashes. “I’m delighted to listen to anything Your Grace wishes to discuss, of course.”
“Nevertheless, I’m sure we can find a more interesting topic for this evening’s conversation,” he promised, his gaze sliding to Harriett. “What say you, my lady?”
“I’m sure I couldn’t find anything more interesting to talk about than your plans for the Hospital,” replied Harriett, all sunlight and sweetness. “However, for my sister’s sake I shall agree to defer the topic. We will have plenty of time to discuss such things next week—if Your Grace is not obliged to be elsewhere, of course.”
Touché. He favored her with a slow smile, acknowledging the barb. “Though my duties are more than enough to keep me busy, I shall always make time for you, Lady Harriett.”
“At your leisure, of course,” she answered. “After all, I would never wish to inconvenience you, Your Grace.”
Her expression was placid and her demeanor pleasant—affable, even—but he wasn’t fooled. She was as tense as a bowstring and as infuriated as a cornered badger. A thrill shot through him. How he’d missed this! He’d missed crossing swords with her, missed the way his blood heated when battling her sharp mind and tongue. Being here with her now was like consuming a rich, flavorful meal after a week of nothing but bread and water.
I’ve missed her. His gut clenched. To hide his disquiet, he turned to her sister who was now absorbed in rearranging the flowers on the table. “Lady Catherine, what might you like to talk about in lieu of the Hospital, since your sister has been so kind as to let us off the hook?”
The girl leveled a vacant stare at him. “Oh! Am I to choose, then? How lovely! It isn’t often I’m given the privilege in this house, my being next to youngest.” She giggled a little and bit her lip. “Well, I suppose I should like to know more about you, Your Grace.”
It was the right thing for a properly trained young lady to say, and he ought to have feigned flattery. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard quite enough about me from your sister,” he said, glancing at Harriett.
“Not at all, Your Grace,” insisted Catherine. “In fact, I’ve been quite annoyed by how tight-lipped she’s been these past few weeks. Of course, I shouldn’t perhaps have expected her to be very forthcoming. After all, she hardly ever spoke about your brother, either.”
“Cat!” hissed Harriett, frowning.
“Well it’s true! You didn’t.”
Dunhaven cleared his throat. “Ah, Catherine, why don’t you tell His Grace about your plans for a garden gazebo? His knowledge of architecture may be instructive in improving the project.”
It was a deliberate redirection from a subject that was obviously a point of contention between the two siblings. Roland smiled encouragingly at the girl. “Do you share your sister’s fascination with building things then, Lady Catherine?”
“Me? Not at all, Your Grace,” answered the blonde. “I simply thought it might be nice to have a bit of shade in that part of the garden. We had an enormous tree there, once upon a time, but lightning struck it last summer and it had to be cut down. I’ve drawn a few sketches of what I should like to see replace it, but nothing more. Harriett, as usual, spoiled my fun and told me they’d never work. She tried explaining why, but I could hardly understand a word of her explanation—she spoke of tinsel stress and jousts and such. It was like listening to someone speak in a foreign tongue.”
“Tensile stress and joists,” Harriett quietly corrected.
Catherine’s delicate brows drew together and she opened her mouth—doubtless preparing to protest being made to look a fool—but her red-faced father intervened. “Why don’t you run and fetch them and let His Grace have a look? He might be able to advise you regarding which will best suit.”
The young woman’s mutinous expression transformed to one of delight. “Would you?”
“I would be delighted,” Roland said, smiling at her.
She jumped up at once and shot Harriett a smug look. “I shall fetch them at once.” Whirling, she all but ran from the room.
Dunhaven’s shoulders sagged with relief. “My apologies, Your Grace. She is young and has lived a very sheltered life.”
“You need not apologize for her enthusiasm,” Roland told him, though he was looking at Harriett. “We were all young, once upon a time.” His inclusion of her in the statement was quite deliberate. And effective, as evidenced by the black look she shot him. That’s more like it!
“Maturity will sober her soon enough,” said Dunhaven with an indulgent smile.
“Should it find her,” quipped Harriett, glaring daggers. “Some manage to escape it their whole lives.”
The rapid-paced clack of heels on wood alerted them to Catherine’s return, and a moment later she appeared in the doorway, her cheeks bright and her breath fast. “I have them, Your Grace,” she said, dumping an armful of papers on the table in front of him.
Roland spent the next half hour poring over the drawings with her, purposely ignoring Harriett and hoping it would drive her mad. Though he forced his eyes to the task before him—Catherine had been told the truth, for not a one of these had any potential to become a reality—every other sense was trained on Harriett. He could smell her faint lavender scent in the air. He could feel her gaze burning into him.
It wasn’t long before a footman came to inform them dinner was served. Catherine rose first, but Roland pretended a lingering interest in one of her sketches long enough for her father to claim her. Rising, he at last looked to Harriett and saw that her eyes were like twin jades. Smiling, he offered his arm.
She glanced at it as though it bore some vile pestilence before grudgingly taking it.
“You’ve been very quiet tonight, Lady Harriett,” he murmured as they left the room. “I’m unused to such reticence from you.”
“What are you doing here?” she breathed back. “I mean what are you really doing here?”
Straight to the point. That was Harriett all over. “Being sociable,” he answered. “Thought I’d try it on and see how it fit. I’m finding it surprisingly enjoyable.” Deliberately, he let his gaze drift ahead to where her sister now walked with Dunhaven. Catherine glanced back at them over her shoulder and gave him a glittering smile.
“I hope you’re not
intending to ask after my sister,” said Harriett, her fingers on his arm tightening. “If you think for one moment I won’t break my heretofore polite silence about you and tell her just what sort of man you really are, you are mistaken. I’d sooner let her wed a snake than you.”
“Ah, so that’s why you think I’m here,” he whispered, smiling. He paused and looked her up and down, taking his time. “Well, at least you wear your color out in the open. Green suits you, by the bye.”
Her cheeks pinked. “My motives are purely protective. I’m sure you must know by now that I have no interest in a relationship with—”
“Is all well?” called Dunhaven from down the hall, his expression concerned.
“Yes, of course, Papa,” she called, forcing a bright smile. “We are just coming along.”
Roland gestured to Harriett. “I was only taking a moment to admire your daughter’s elegance.”
The other man’s brows shot up. “Well, by all means, feel free. I should like to see her dress so more frequently.”
“As would I,” he said low, just for her benefit. A small, strangled noise escaped from between his companion’s clenched teeth as they resumed progress, and he knew she would like nothing better than to wring his neck.
~ * ~
He couldn’t possibly have meant it! Even so, his compliment sent a flush of heat to Harriett’s midsection. “Such clothes are ill-suited to my duties at the Hospital.”
“Then I suppose I shall have to see you more often in other settings, shan’t I?”
Her heart lurched. “Don’t you dare!” she hissed, stopping him again. “He has no idea how things really are between us, and I would rather it stay that way.”
“That shall be entirely up to you.”
“If you mean to force me out of—”
“I have no such nefarious intentions, I assure you.” But the gleam in his eyes belied his protestation.
