by Liana Lefey
Something of Harriett’s concern regarding the statement must have shown on her face, for Mrs. Jenkins raised her chin. “Bella hasn’t breathed a word to my Katie about how...” The color in her face deepened, and she cleared her throat. “Well, she promised me she wouldn’t, and I know she’s kept her word. She’s a good girl, our Bella. Such a tragedy...”
Harriett relaxed. “Your kindness is most appreciated, Mrs. Jenkins. And know, too, that I and the rest of my family join you in wishing swift justice upon the one who committed the crime,” she added before the suspicious sniffles issuing from the woman’s bent head could grow into anything more dramatic.
Mrs. Jenkins’ looked up again, fire flaring in her moist eyes. “She won’t even speak the devil’s name, poor child. Oh, I do hope they catch the blackguard, m’lady! Tyburn’s probably too good for the likes, but I hope they hang the scoundrel high, just the same.”
“I’m sure they will,” Harriett agreed, despite knowing otherwise. It was definitely time to move on to another subject. “The hour is late, but I do hope there is still something left to eat. I had Mary pack me a hamper this morning, but I’d like something more substantial now.”
“Bless me, where are my manners!” exclaimed the housekeeper, clapping a hand to her already skewed cap. “You come right with me this instant. Mrs. Bask made a lovely stew today. It’s still hot in the pot, and I know she baked several loaves of bread this morning. It’s nothing fancy, mind, but it’ll fill your belly right enough. I’ll see to it whilst Jeremy fetches your things and our Katie heats some water. You’ll want a bath after your long journey.”
“That sounds heavenly,” Harriett replied with a sigh. Hot water would indeed be most welcome, and not exclusively for its cleansing properties. The soreness between her legs was such that every step was a trial.
Mrs. Jenkins beamed. “We’ll have everything ready for you before you can blink. Do you want to be served in the dining room or—”
“Oh, heavens no,” Harriett answered, laughing. “There is no need to go to such trouble. I’ll take my meals in the kitchen while I’m here.”
The smile on Mrs. Jenkins’ face broadened a bit further. “We’ve missed you, m’lady. I know my Katie has missed Lady Catherine summat awful. You’ll have to tell us all the news from London.”
As she followed Mrs. Jenkins, Harriett marked that not much appeared to have changed since the last time she’d been here, two years ago. In a way, it was comforting. It was also just a bit sad. Once it rented, everything would be changed to suit the new tenants’ tastes.
The kitchen was warm and inviting, as always. The food was delicious if simple, and the company most welcome. Harriett felt terrible about not going at once to see Arabella, but it was already full dark and the lake house was some distance away down the hill. It would have to wait until morning. She’d take her sister breakfast and surprise her.
Feeling much improved after her supper, she went upstairs to find her room all in order as promised. The bed had been made and turned down, and its warming pan could be found heating up in the hearth. Despite the impending advent of summer, the nights were still quite chilly.
Two footmen bearing an oaken tub came in a few minutes later, followed by several maids carrying buckets of steaming bathwater.
The bath eased Harriett’s travel-weary limbs, as well as her tender nether parts. For the first time since arriving, she allowed herself to think of Roland. He wasn’t “Manchester” to her anymore. He never would be again, not after...
A pang of desire stabbed through her, and her cheeks grew hot. Mentally scolding herself, she dipped a cup of icy water from the side bucket and dashed it across her chest. The chill shock of it did nothing to assuage the heat and longing that had come alive within her.
Cursing under her breath, she rose and dried off roughly, refusing to give in to the temptation to run hands across too sensitive skin. Skin that missed a touch it should never have felt. The memory of his caresses was enough to make her shudder with want, to yearn again for fulfillment.
Shamed that she should be thinking such things, Harriett crammed her nightgown down over her head. The bed warmer was still there beside the fire; however, she didn’t bother using it. Instead, she flung herself on the bed and slipped between the cold sheets with a gasp, hoping the chill would douse the fire in her flesh much as she now doused the lamp on her bedside table.
It didn’t. Tired and frustrated, Harriett lay awake staring at the ceiling and wondering how in heaven’s name she was going to manage marrying Russell. She had to do it, especially now she’d told Papa about his offer. Especially now she’d committed almost as terrible an error in judgment as Arabella.
A terrifying thought surfaced, a thought that in the rush of her flight from London had not even occurred to her until this very moment. What if I am with child?
Frantic, she began counting back, ticking off the days on shaking fingers. Two weeks. She would know within two weeks. If her menses did not arrive by then, she would know all was lost. There would be no choice but for her to go to Papa, tell him the truth, and have him approach Roland on her behalf.
Would he remember their encounter? If not, she would be required to prove it had happened. But how?
How could I be so reckless? For her to have repeated history without paying attention to its lessons—especially with a prime example of error so close at hand—was insanity! She sighed and felt the rise and fall of the shuddering breath beneath her hand, which had drifted down to rest upon her belly. It was as flat as it had ever been, but she knew all too well how quickly that could change and how it would change everything in her life along with it. Prospects, plans, friendships—everything.
Her eyes smarted and she swiped at them, angry with herself. Self-castigation, no matter how well-deserved, would do no good. What was done was done, and there was no going back. If she was with child, she would have to find a way to become Lady Manchester. If she was not, then she would have a great deal to explain to Russell. There would be little choice but to tell him she and…
William.
She would say it had been William’s doing. It would besmirch his honor, but it was better than the truth. Another shudder ran through her and hot, silent tears welled, spilling down her cheeks and into her hair. She couldn’t bear to think of William now. He’d been so good and kind. But had she ever truly loved him? She’d thought she had, but now she wondered.
Of a certainty, she loved Roland. But he doesn’t love me. Unless there was a child, she would have to marry someone else. She hated it, but what other choice was there? If she did not marry, Cat would be required to take in Arabella.
That left Harriett with Elizabeth and Oxenden. The thought made her stomach turn. She didn’t think she could stand to live under the same roof with the bastard, if he would even allow it.
Her tired mind began to wander, and she let it. What was Roland doing now? Had he gone home last night? Did he remember anything? If he did—and if there was no child—it would make things extremely difficult. Would he keep quiet?
For her own part, she would keep the truth locked away in her heart for the rest of her life. Just as it was with Arabella, no one must ever know. No one.
Twenty One
“Your Grace…Lord Manchester,” urged the insistent female.
Her voice grated on Roland’s raw nerves, and he turned away in protest.
Someone laid hands on him and shook him.
He cracked open an eye. “Bloody hell, woman! Leave me be!” He started to roll away again, but then stopped. If Nurse Hayes was here, then that meant he was not at home.
Everything flooded back in a rush. He sat up so abruptly the room spun, forcing him to brace himself for a moment until it righted itself. His head felt full of gauze, his stomach full of bile. “What time is it? Quickly!”
Nurse Hayes frowned. “Nearly nine, Your Grace.”
He could hear the disapproval in her tone. Muttering an obsc
enity, he rose, ignoring the shooting pain in his head. “Have a carriage sent around at once—I don’t care where you get it, just have one readied and brought around. Immediately.”
Something of his urgency must have translated, because she went at once to do his bidding.
Harriett had been here. They’d made love. He’d been a complete bastard.
On a desk. He’d taken her virginity on a desk. William’s desk. All at once he experienced terrible, crushing guilt—followed by a tiny twinge of shocked admiration. Had she really been so uninhibited?
I love you, Roland...
Even his brandy-soaked brain knew that was real. His heart soared. The woman who was to become his wife loved him!
He wanted to crawl out of his own flesh with impatience as he waited for the carriage. Despite his instructions to hurry, the ride home was interminably long. Alighting at last, he took the steps at a run and pounded on the front door. The second it opened he began bellowing for his valet, giving the poor butler a fright.
Two hours later, the door to Lord Dunhaven’s house closed in front of his face, leaving him standing on the stoop feeling a fool. Dunhaven was not at home. Neither was Harriett. He’d asked to speak with Lady Catherine, but she was also out. The man who’d closed the door would not tell him where any of them had gone.
Cursing, Roland returned to the Hospital, thinking maybe Harriett might return. Or that she might have sent a message.
Nothing.
He went to consult Rich, but his friend was also out. Fate, it seemed, had decided to leave him utterly bereft of counsel. After an afternoon spent in frantic, fruitless search of people determined to elude him, he returned to Harriett’s house and was told Lord Dunhaven and his daughters were out.
This time, however, Roland had an idea where they might be. Since becoming engaged, Catherine would be wherever Hammond was, and Hammond would be at the Arbuthnot ball. He didn’t bother to change, but went straight to the event.
Spying Lily, he stopped her. “Have you seen Harriett?”
She shook her head. “Cat just told me she is not here tonight.”
But she’ll know where Harriett is. “Where is she? Is Lord Dunhaven with her?”
“They’re over there,” she said, nodding to the right. “Is everything all right?”
“It soon will be,” he told her. “Excuse me.” He left her and went over to Harriett’s father. “Lord Dunhaven, I apologize for my abruptness but I need to speak with you in private concerning a rather urgent matter.” Upon receiving bewildered assent, Roland left the ballroom with him in tow. Finding a vacant salon, he ushered him in and shut the door.
“What is this about?” asked Dunhaven. “Has something happened at the Hospital?”
Roland’s face grew hot. It most certainly had. “Is Harriett well? She did not come to work today.”
“Indeed. She is quite well.” Dunhaven peered at him in obvious confusion. “But why should you have expected her to come today? She informed you yesterday she was leaving.”
“Leaving? She said nothing of the sort. Where has she gone?”
A flush rose up from Dunhaven’s neck. “I, ah…I’m afraid I must apologize. She led me to believe she had informed you. She has gone to visit her sister.”
“She failed to mention that when we spoke last night. Has she already left London?”
Dunhaven frowned. “You saw her last night?”
“Yes. And it is imperative that I speak with her again at once.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. But I will be happy to send a message to her in the morning.”
There was no point in prevaricating. “Lord Dunhaven, Harriett cannot marry Lord Russell.”
The other man’s eyes widened. “W—why not?”
“Because I love her, and I wish to marry her.” He watched with dread as Dunhaven’s face purpled.
“I am sorry,” said the other man, “but she has already accepted another man’s offer.”
“You misunderstand me, sir. Harriett cannot marry Russell.” Roland could feel himself turning the same color as the man in front of him. “She came to the Hospital yesterday evening, and I’m afraid I was not in control of myself. I behaved dishonorably.”
For a moment, Dunhaven’s mouth worked soundlessly. “Do you mean to say that—”
“Yes.” Thoroughly.
“Good God,” gasped Dunhaven, blanching. “If this gets out, we’re ruined. Winchilsea will make his nephew break his engagement to Catherine.”
Roland could not afford for his future father-in-law to panic, at least not right now. “Has Harriett’s engagement been announced yet?”
The other man shook his head. “No. She said Russell wished to delay the announcement. Something about not wanting to compete with Catherine and Hammond. I thought it rather odd that he did not come to me first before asking her, but it sometimes happens that way. I quite expect him to approach me tonight, actually. Though I suppose it’s pointless now, given the circumstances.”
Everything inside Roland stilled. “How many people know about their engagement?”
“Other than Russell’s family? As far as I am aware just Catherine and myself.”
The pieces were beginning to fall into place. “Lord Dunhaven, I believe Harriett may have misled you concerning her engagement.”
Dunhaven’s bushy brows collided. “Why would she do such a thing?”
“During Lady Catherine’s birthday celebration, I witnessed what appeared to be an unpleasant conversation between Harriett and Russell. When I inquired of her, however, Harriett told me he had just proposed and she had accepted. If that was true, then it was certainly not a happy occasion. I then offered myself in his stead.”
“What?” exclaimed the other man. “She mentioned nothing of this!”
“That is probably because she did not take me seriously.” Roland took a deep breath. “You may recall I did not make a very good impression on your daughter when first we met.”
Dunhaven cleared his throat. “You are referring to that business at your brother’s funeral.”
Mortification filled him. “Yes. In addition, our more recent interactions at the Hospital did not start out amicably. In the process of working out our differences, however, I grew very fond of your daughter.”
“Obviously,” growled the other man, shooting him a black look.
Again, Roland flushed hot. “Despite what you think, I have the utmost regard for Harriett. I love her honestly and want nothing more than to marry her as soon as possible. I shall be happy to procure a special license this very night if you will but give me your blessing and tell me where she has gone.”
“Considering the circumstances, I see very little other choice,” grumbled Dunhaven. “Very well, she is in—”
A small sound at the door beside them claimed their attention. Roland held a finger to his lips, grasped the handle, and jerked it open to find a woman crouched there, listening.
“I knew it! I knew she’d betray him again,” said Nanette Finchly, rising with a nasty, triumphant smile. Before either them could speak, she fled.
“I’m afraid it’s all up now,” groaned Dunhaven. “She’ll go straight to Russell. If he and Harriet are in fact engaged, there will be a terrible scandal.”
“Then let us pray they are not. Where is Harriett?”
“Berkshire,” answered Dunhaven. “I cannot leave Catherine here alone or I would go with you, but I’ll send one of my men to take you there first thing in the morning.” He paused, his manner awkward. “Manchester, there is something you must know before you go after her.”
~ * ~
“Harriett!” exclaimed Arabella, propping herself up with difficulty. Her face shone with happiness. “I thought you were not to arrive until the end of the month?”
Smiling, Harriett deposited the breakfast tray on her sister’s lap, helped plump up the pillows behind her, and sat down next to her. “Russell proposed.”
“Did
he? How wonderful! And what of Cat?”
“She is engaged to Lord Winchilsea’s heir, and very happily so.”
“I’m glad for her. Glad for you both,” said her sister with a wistful smile. “I wish I could say the same for myself. Oh, Harriett—I was so stupid to believe he loved me! If only I’d not gone to visit Elizabeth, I might be in your enviable position now.”
Harriett declined to tell her just how unenviable her position really was. “If all goes according to plan, you may yet have that chance.”
Arabella laid a hand on her swollen belly. “How?”
“The babe will be taken to the Foundling Hospital, where I will see to it he or she is placed with a good family.” Though how she planned to do that in the event Roland remembered their last encounter was beyond her. She would find a way. “Everyone believes you ill. If we are careful, no one will ever know the truth. Papa says you may yet be able to marry in a few years’ time. It is something to consider. I will be happy to help you when you are ready.”
Her sister stared at the coverlet in silence.
“Are you comfortable?” Harriett ventured after a moment. “Is there anything you need?”
“Not at all, I have been well cared for,” said Arabella. Her smile returned, though it was only a shadow of the one she’d first worn. “And now that you are here, I am perfectly content.”
“Cat sends her love,” Harriett replied. “And yes, I am aware you told her the truth.”
Her sister’s guilty gaze slid away. “And Papa?”
“He sends his love as well. He does not know you revealed anything to Cat, by the bye. She and I have kept it strictly between us.”
“Thank the Lord for that,” breathed Arabella. “I could not bear to leave with Cat thinking me deathly ill. She was so worried.” Again, she looked down at her lap. “And...and what of Elizabeth?”
Harriett hesitated. There was no point in keeping it from her. “She wrote a few weeks ago from Holbrooke Manor. She is living there now separately from Oxenden, whom she refuses to have anything more to do with. She threatened to petition for a divorce, but was persuaded not to follow through with it for the sake of her children. She has taken Susan and Alexander with her and will be allowed to keep them, provided she remains silent. Oxenden even agreed to let Alexander stay with her until he is old enough to attend school in London.”
