A frown flitted across her face.
‘Oh, come now. Surely your aunt has already warned you not to set your sights on me.’
A rather mulish look came to her mouth.
‘Actually, she thinks you might do very well for me. Seeing as how I’m not likely to attract a man with higher standards.’
‘I thought you said she cared for you.’
‘Oh, she does. But then…’ She shrugged, as though the action was self-explanatory.
‘And you said your own father never once told you that you are pretty,’ he growled. ‘What is wrong with them all?’
Lady Harriet shrugged again. ‘My parents were content with the three sons they already had, I suppose. They didn’t really know what to do with a daughter.’
‘That’s family for you,’ he said with feeling. ‘My own father never had a good word to say about me, either.’
A stricken look came across her face. She reached out and touched his hand, just briefly, as though understanding, completely, what it felt like to be the runt of the litter.
For a moment, they sat there in silence. For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes from her hand, though she had withdrawn it and tucked it underneath the posy now, as though she couldn’t believe she had lost control of it so far as to reach out and touch him.
He glanced up at her face.
‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘I should take my leave, now. I have said what I came to say.’
‘And a sight more.’
He grinned at her. ‘Yes. You do seem to have the knack of provoking me into saying more than I should. More than I intended.’
‘I do not! Provoke you, that is.’
‘You do. You are the most provoking creature I have ever met.’
They smiled at each other, then. For a moment it felt as if they were in perfect accord.
He got to his feet. ‘Time I was going.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ she said, getting to her feet as well. ‘Are you going to Lady Wiscombe’s ball tonight?’
‘I had not intended to.’
Her face fell. Which gave him a peculiar feeling. But then nobody had ever appeared disappointed when he’d said he wasn’t going to be somewhere. So it wasn’t any wonder he was a touch surprised. Particularly since she did nothing but snipe at him.
‘I suppose, I might be persuaded to attend…’ he began slowly.
‘Oh, no, really, it doesn’t matter,’ she said, blushing fiery red.
And the delight of teasing her took over his common sense.
‘Well, do you know, I rather think it does.’
‘No,’ she said, her eyes narrowing in annoyance, ‘it really, really doesn’t.’
‘Yes, it does. Because I rather think you ought to demonstrate that you have forgiven me for my appalling rudeness last night, by dancing with me again.’
‘What?’
‘Yes, and this time, I think you ought to try being polite.’
‘You could try it yourself,’ she snapped.
He laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose I could, only,’ he said, taking her hand to bow over it in farewell, ‘where would be the fun in that?’
* * *
Though Harriet knew she ought not to keep on doing it, she couldn’t help looking at the door. So that she’d know the moment he arrived.
She couldn’t wait to see what he thought of the dress she was wearing tonight. The dressmaker had wrought a miracle with it, considering the short notice Aunt Susan had given her. It no longer had a single frill and only the one flounce was at the hem, and that only because Madame Grenoir had told them point blank they’d have to choose between removing the flounce or doing something about the sleeves and the neckline.
Harriet had chosen to do something about the sleeves and the neckline. To her way of thinking, that was two alterations, rather than just one. And it felt more important to remove the fuss from her upper half, than her lower, somehow.
She’d had her hair done differently, too. The man who’d come to do their hair for the ball was adamant about creating a row of tiny curls across her forehead, but he had agreed that she need not have bunches of ringlets hanging round her face as well. He’d pulled most of it up on to the crown of her head, leaving only a few curls trailing about her neck. Which tickled, a bit, but that was a price worth paying, when even Kitty had clapped her hands and said how much the new style suited her.
A group of men eyed her as they went past. And didn’t give her that look she’d been getting from men so far. The one of mingled pity and amusement.
Not that she cared what they thought. It was Lord Becconsall’s opinion that counted.
Oh, if only he weren’t so abominably rude and so determined not to marry anyone, he would be perfect. He was so handsome and witty. And in spite of having a reputation for being a bit wild, he was eligible, just, in Aunt Susan’s opinion. Even the way they had first met had been rather romantic, now she came to think of it. And as for the way he kissed…
Oh, well. At least he had said he would dance with her tonight. If he could be bothered to come to the ball at all.
And then, at last, there he was. Standing in the doorway glancing round at the assembled throng. Only this time, when his eyes finally quartered her corner of the room, they paused. And he smiled. And walked straight over.
‘Good evening, Lady Tarbrook,’ he said, bowing to Aunt Susan.
‘Why, good evening, Lord Becconsall,’ she gushed. ‘So lovely to see you again. At a ball. Again.’
Lord Becconsall coloured, faintly, his lips compressing in what looked like irritation.
Oh, dear. She hoped Aunt Susan wasn’t going to frighten him off by saying anything about him falling for her on the spot, or something equally embarrassing. And since the best way to prevent her from doing so would be to get Lord Becconsall out of her orbit, she got to her feet.
‘Yes, thank you, I would love to dance,’ she said.
Lord Becconsall raised one eyebrow.
‘You really should wait to be asked.’
‘But you asked me this afternoon.’
‘Did I?’ He feigned confusion.
‘Well, you promised you would dance with me if you came tonight, which is the same thing. Practically the same thing.’
‘Harriet, really,’ protested Aunt Susan, in a scandalised voice. Fortunately. Because it gave Lord Becconsall the very prod he needed.
‘Yes, and it has just occurred to me that as soon as I get this dance with you out of the way, I shall be able to leave.’
Aunt Susan made a sort of strangled noise, as Harriet smiled and laid her hand upon Lord Becconsall’s outstretched arm.
‘Please, don’t say anything about the way I look, until after we’ve danced,’ said Harriet.
‘Not even if it is flattering?’
‘Oh.’ She pretended to think about it. ‘That might be agreeable, I suppose.’ She darted a look at him from under her lashes.
‘In that case, I shall say that you look fine as fivepence.’
‘Do you mean that?’ She ought not to let one throwaway comment, from a man she hardly knew matter so much. But she couldn’t prevent her heart from giving a little skip.
‘You know I never say anything I don’t mean.’
‘No. You are abominably rude,’ she agreed cheerfully. ‘Which is why it’s so comfortable being with you, I suppose.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Because I don’t have to mind my manners either, do I? And honestly, you cannot imagine what a relief it is to be able to speak my mind. Most men don’t seem to like it.’
‘I cannot think why,’ he said gravely.
‘No, nor can I. And the trouble is I have such a struggle not to say exactly what I think. Even when it doesn�
��t defer to the opinion of a man.’
‘How shocking,’ he said, with a twitch to his lips as though he was trying not to laugh.
‘Well I did think it was, which was rather stupid of me.’
‘Er, dare I enquire in what way?’
‘In that I should have known that females, and their views, are of less value, in society, than men. Given the difference in the way my parents treated me and my brothers.’
‘At least they had the excuse that you were a girl,’ he said. And then grimaced. ‘That is, my own father never had a good word to say about me. Whereas my brothers could apparently do no wrong.’
‘How horrid for you. Why do you think that was?’
‘It may have been,’ he said drily, ‘because they were big and strong and handsome, whereas I was small and sickly and bookish.’
‘And yet,’ she said, ‘you are the only man I have ever met who has not been frightened when I speak my mind.’
‘Frightened? Good God, no, why should I be frightened of a slip of a thing like you?’ he said with amusement. ‘I was a soldier for many years. I faced massed French troops. Not to mention the cut-throat band of ruffians I was supposed to be leading into battle myself.’
‘Yes, and you were very brave on lots of occasions, weren’t you?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Oh, nothing much,’ she said with a shrug, not liking to admit that she’d asked about his career in the army. ‘It’s just that I’m convinced that a few ideas, expressed by an impertinent female, are never going to make you quake in your boots, are they?’
He laughed outright at that. ‘Never.’
Oh, what a pity it was that he was so set against marriage. He was exactly the sort of man she would love being married to. He wouldn’t defer to her in everything, the way Papa deferred to Mama for being so clever. Nor would he lay down the law the way Uncle Hugo did, expecting unquestioning obedience from the females around him.
Lord Becconsall would be more like a partner. A friend with whom she could discuss anything she liked.
Ah well. Perhaps she would meet someone else just like him.
Except, she didn’t think there was anyone else just like him.
‘Your father must have been a very stupid man,’ she said, just as they took their place alongside the other two couples in their set.
‘No, not all that stupid,’ said Lord Becconsall. ‘He just regarded me as the runt of the litter.’
After they’d performed the first change of place, he said, ‘Did your brothers bully you?’
‘No. They just ignored me, for the most part. Excluded me from their male pursuits. That sort of thing. Did yours…?’ She didn’t like to think of him being bullied. Nor did she want to say the word out loud, on a dance floor, even though the music would probably prevent her words from carrying very far and the other couples were concentrating on the intricacies of their steps.
Besides, he had the sort of look on his face that indicated he might be regretting speaking so frankly. Men didn’t, as a rule, like to confess to any weakness whatever. At least, her brothers hadn’t.
After that, he confined himself to the sort of commonplace remarks that everyone else was making as they danced.
Only when it was over did he draw close, his expression serious.
‘Do you think you tried to become…less feminine in order to fit in? Is that why you had no idea of how to dress yourself to advantage, when you first came to Town?’
She thought it over. ‘I don’t think that was it. I just… Actually, Mama always said I should not be forced into some kind of mould, just because of my sex. That I should be free to act exactly as I wished.’ It had never occurred to her before that Mama might have meant it. She’d always thought it was an excuse for not paying her any attention at all. But since she’d come to Town, and learned just how many rules there seemed to be that applied to girls, she was beginning to wonder if Mama might have a point.
‘And anyway, didn’t you accuse me of being a rebel? You will have to make up your mind,’ she teased as he started leading her back to where Aunt Susan was sitting. ‘Am I a rebel, or trying desperately to fit in?’
He gave her a thoughtful look. ‘I think you are doing both. Trying to fit in, but not managing it because you cannot quite quench your rebellious tendencies.’
They were almost there. And once he’d thanked her for the dance, he would leave. And she couldn’t face the thought she might never see him, or speak to him again.
‘I don’t suppose you have an invitation to Lady Lensborough’s picnic outing tomorrow, do you?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do. On account of the fact that her younger son is a friend of mine.’
‘Oh,’ she said, her heart lifting. ‘Then I shall look forward to seeing you there.’
‘What?’ He gave her a strange look. ‘No, I…I never said I was going.’
‘But what possible excuse can you give for not going?’
Now the look was no longer indecipherable. It was plain irritation. ‘I won’t have to give an excuse. Nobody will expect me to go. And don’t ask why they did send me an invitation. I get dozens of them. Mostly from matchmaking mothers attempting to foist their bran-faced daughters into my arms.’
She gasped, feeling as though he’d just slapped her. In fact, she did raise just one hand to her face, which had a smattering of the very freckles he’d just spoken of with such disdain.
‘Lady Lensborough doesn’t have a daughter,’ she pointed out. ‘Don’t you think she might have invited you thinking you might actually enjoy yourself?’
‘If she did, she must have windmills in her head,’ he muttered grimly, before releasing her hand, giving Aunt Susan a brief bow and marching straight out of the ballroom.
CHAPTER SIX
It was a lovely day. The sun was shining. A few white clouds were scudding across the sky on the wings of a light breeze. Perfect weather, in fact, for driving into the countryside for a picnic.
Good grief. He was actually considering going. Just for the pleasure of seeing her face light up at the sight of him, the way it had done last night.
And savouring the way she kept on looking at his mouth as though she was remembering their kiss. Fondly.
Oh, the way she talked. The way she danced. The way she smiled. The way that tendril of hair caressed her neck, the way he’d like to caress it with his tongue.
Oh, hell! He whisked his hat from his head and rammed it on to the peg on the wall. If he was not careful he was going to fall for Lady Harriet. And would start trying to become the kind of man she wanted him to be. Some kind of… Prince Charming to her Cinderella.
And he wasn’t that man. He’d told her to her face he wasn’t that man. Warned her that nobody thought him worth a rap.
But she hadn’t cared. That was what got to him. That was what was tempting him to go on a stupid picnic, where he’d have to sit on damp grass and consume soggy sandwiches and drink flat champagne. Because she actually seemed to enjoy being with him. No matter how…frank he was. Because it meant she could be frank, too.
A chill trickled down his spine. How had it got this far? How had he reached the stage where they were being frank with one another? As though they were intimate?
And why the hell hadn’t he gone straight to Zeus, and Atlas, and Archie, the moment he’d found her, so that he could claim his winnings, come to that? Why was he prolonging this period of…getting to know her?
When it couldn’t lead anywhere.
Because he was damned if he was going to marry anyone this Season.
Not even her.
He slammed into his study and spent several hours excluding her from his thoughts by concentrating on the mountain of paperwork that he’d inherited along with the title.
* * *
When the light started to fade, he stalked round to Zeus’s club. To do what he should have done straight away. Tell him he’d found…damn it, if he thought of her as Hope, he’d weaken and keep her to himself.
Gritting his teeth, he mounted the steps. It would be better for his peace of mind to stay away from her altogether. But he would have to see her at least once more. To settle the wager. They all had to see her and agree she was indeed the girl who’d set about them with her riding crop and concede that he’d been the one to track her down. Or Zeus would think he’d won. Which was unthinkable.
Yes, at least he was going to enjoy the look on the know-it-all’s face when Zeus learned that all his assumptions about Lady Harriet were completely wrong.
What was more, the next time he saw her, with the others at his back and his attitude fixed on the wager, she wouldn’t have the same effect upon him. She couldn’t have.
Taking comfort from those two things, he tossed his hat and gloves to the doorman.
‘Lord Rawcliffe in?’
‘Yes, my lord. He and his guests have just dined and are taking coffee in the lounge.’
Jack could hazard a guess at the identity of Rawcliffe’s guests. And was proved correct when he entered the lounge a few moments later to see Archie and Atlas flanking the Marquis of Rawcliffe, Atlas with a despondent air and Archie with an abstracted one.
‘You really know how to entertain your guests, eh, Zeus,’ said Jack, approaching the gloomy trio. ‘Anyone would think someone had died.’
‘My g-grandmother d-did,’ said Archie.
‘Oh? Well, in that case, I beg pardon. When did that happen?’
‘Six months ago,’ said Zeus laconically.
‘Six months?’ Archie looked puzzled. ‘As long ago as that?’
Zeus met Jack’s gaze and rolled his eyes.
‘Dare say you have had other things on your mind,’ said Jack soothingly. ‘Nevertheless, my condolences.’
‘Yes, it was all very unpleasant,’ said Archie. ‘Things c-came out about her that none of my family ever suspected.’
Jack pulled up a fourth chair, summoned a waiter and ordered a drink.
Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718) Page 28
