The Pursuit of Lady Harriett (Tanglewood Book 3)

by Rachael Anderson

  Harriett’s grin returned, and she found herself wishing she’d applied herself more to her drawing lessons. Some happy hours could be spent sketching out a scene of a toplofty man walking a sweet little dog. How she’d love to gift such a picture to Lieutenant Jamison and enjoy his expression when he saw it.

  Unfortunately, Harriett lacked the skill to draw anything resembling her subjects. She could outline an apple or make a valiant attempt at sketching the veins in a leaf, but if an image required more detail, texture, or dimension, the poor thing would come away looking haggard and misshapen. Such a work of art would inspire the lieutenant’s laughter, not his chagrin, and Harriett most certainly did not want that. So instead of drawing, she would simply have to commit the scene to memory so that she would be able to share it in glorious detail with her dear friend, Cora, once she returned from her wedding trip.

  Her mind thus engaged, Harriett’s chipper mood remained throughout the morning, and when the Biddings arrived to collect her for the picnic, she happily climbed into the carriage. But as she settled in next to the lieutenant and looked around, her smile faltered when she saw no sign of sweet, little Pippin. The dog was not on anyone’s lap, not on the floor, and certainly not with the coachman. Mr. Bidding would never allow that, would he?

  Whatever happened to Mrs. Bidding’s declaration that wherever they went, Pippin went?

  Harriett made a show of arranging her skirts and attempted to sound casual as she asked, “Where’s Pippin?”

  Mr. Bidding sighed and peered out the window, his forehead crinkled with worry. ”Still at home with our housekeeper, I’m afraid. Lieutenant Jamison pointed out to us this morning that the roundness of her middle might not be the result of a healthy appetite after all. He seems to think our dear Pippin is increasing.”

  Increasing? Harriett tried to mask her annoyance. What fustian. Surely the man could have come up with a better Banbury tale than that.

  “How very observant you are, Lieutenant,” Harriett said wryly.

  His mustache twitched with amusement. He appeared not to have shaved this morning, and the stubble along his jaw made him look even more ruggedly dashing.

  Drat the man.

  Mrs. Bidding nodded solemnly, though there was a delighted twinkle in her eyes. “The lieutenant could be in the right of it, I think. Pippin has been acting more lethargic of late. We will send for a cow-leech this afternoon to confirm the diagnosis, but until we know for certain, we thought it best to leave her at home. Lieutenant Jamison, the compassionate man that he is, pointed out that too much excitement could be harmful for her.”

  Harriett barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Observant and compassionate. My, how blessed the Biddings are to have you as their guest, sir.”

  He seemed to mold his face into an impassive expression. “I could never forgive myself if Pippin endangered her health or the health of her puppies on my account.”

  “No, I’m sure you could not,” said Harriett tightly. She turned her gaze towards the window and noticed that the outside world suddenly seemed dimmer than it had before, as though the sun had taken refuge behind a cloud. She blamed the lieutenant entirely. He’d outmaneuvered her, and it rankled. But it was only a matter of time before the cow-leech confirmed that Pippin was not increasing, so the picnic was nothing more than a minor setback. By dinner this evening, all would be set to rights and Harriett would once again be at liberty to promote an unwanted attachment between Lieutenant Jamison and the dog.

  In the meantime, she would simply have to make the best of things.

  A few turns in the road later, the coachman stopped near a pleasant spot on a hilltop overlooking a beautiful valley. In another month, the leaves would sprout and the entire countryside would be bursting with vibrant shades of green. Harriett enjoyed the scenery while two footmen spread out a rug and carried over a large basket filled with food. They settled down for a cozy picnic, and Harriett filled her plate with a delicious assortment of bread, meats, and cheeses, thinking that perhaps the afternoon was not entirely spoiled.

  It was in that peaceful moment that the lieutenant chose to pull out a book from a knapsack he carried. Harriett peered closer, furrowing her brows in confusion. What on earth did the lieutenant plan to do with a Bible? He was certainly not the sort of man to ever read such a book, was he? Surely he was not considering entering the church. That would be altogether too laughable.

  Much to her surprise, he announced, “I thought a biblical passage would be just the thing for an inspirational day such as this.”

  Beneath the brim of a wide-brimmed bonnet, Mrs. Bidding nodded politely, murmuring her approval. “I have always loved a nice reading, Lieutenant, and what could be more inspiring than scripture from the Good Book? Let us hear your passage, sir.”

  Mr. Bidding nodded as well. “Yes, do carry on.”

  Thus encouraged, Lieutenant Jamison wasted no time in opening to a section that appeared to have been previously marked. “These particular verses of scripture come from the fifth chapter of Matthew and struck me as wise counsel.” He cleared his throat, and a slight smile teased his lips as he glanced briefly at Harriett before continuing. “‘Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth: But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.’”

  He continued to read a few more verses before concluding with, “‘Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;’”

  Even with his slight burr, his deep voice sounded powerful and even regal. If Harriett had not found the subject matter so irritating, she could have imagined him standing at a pulpit before a captivated congregation.

  But he hadn’t been standing at a pulpit or speaking to a congregation. He’d been speaking to her—or rather, preaching.

  The cad.

  Sure enough, he closed the book and studied her. “What are your thoughts on that message, my lady?”

  That you are a hypocritical boor, thought Harriett, feeling extremely unchristian at the moment. She took a bite of cheese to keep from saying something she’d likely regret.

  “It is a wonderful sentiment,” interjected Mrs. Bidding. “I only wish it would inspire more people. Only think of how pleasant this world would be if such an attitude existed in the hearts of every soul.”

  “I couldn’t have put it better myself,” said the lieutenant good-naturedly, bestowing a triumphant smile upon Harriett.

  Unfortunately, she could think of no rejoinder to this, at least not one that could be spoken in the presence of the Biddings. “Tell me, Lieutenant,” she said instead. “Have you forgiven all who have done you harm?”

  He set the Bible aside and picked up his plate once more. “In all honesty, I cannot say that I have, only that I try my best. Carrying a grudge is a heavy burden that I’d rather not shoulder if I can help it.”

  Harriett pressed her lips together, not sure what to make of his words. He seemed the sort who was rarely serious, yet he’d sounded as though he truly did try to forgive all. But did he, or was his opinion merely part of his scheme to prod her into forgiving him? What sort of man was Lieutenant Jamison?

  She brushed a few crumbs from her lap before responding. “I do think that grudges are burdens that I’d prefer not to carry. But I am also human, sir, and as such I find it very difficult to, er… excuse certain people, especially when they are often in my company. Sometimes I find it necessary to distance myself from them so that I can truly forgive—or at the very least, forget.”

  He laughed, and once again the sound wormed its way into Harriett’s emotions, confusing and unsettling her. Her appetite gone, she set her plate aside, wondering how long the picnic would last. Was it too soon to plead a headache? Or perhaps Pippin could come to h
er aid after all.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Bidding,” said Harriett. “I’m certain you are both worried about the health of Pippin. Shall we end the picnic a little early so that you might see to her needs and put your minds at ease?”

  Mr. Bidding appeared hopeful, but his wife waved Harriett’s concerns aside with an elegant flip of her wrist. “And waste this beautiful afternoon? Certainly not. If Pippin is indeed breeding, she will still be breeding when we arrive home. A few hours will not change matters in the least.”

  Hmm… It seemed Pippin would not come to Harriett’s aid at all today, the little scamp.

  Lieutenant Jamison finished off the last of his luncheon and set his plate aside. He brushed his hands together and jumped to his feet before extending a hand to Harriett. “Would you do me the honor of taking a walk with me, my lady?”

  Before Harriett could think of an excuse, Mrs. Bidding clapped her hands. “What a wonderful notion. Of course you young people ought to enjoy yourselves with a lovely stroll. Mr. Bidding and I can chaperone adequately from here.” She wagged a playful finger at the lieutenant. “Just promise that you will not stray too far.”

  “You have my word that we will not, madam,” he answered, always eager to please everyone but Harriett.

  Knowing she had no other choice but to graciously accept, she placed her gloved fingers in his and allowed him to assist her to her feet. As soon as she could, she released his hand and clasped her fingers behind her back, determined to keep her distance.

  They began descending the small rise, and as soon as they were out of earshot of their hosts, Lieutenant Jamison leaned in close, brushing his shoulder against hers. Harriett tried her best not to notice the touch, but the rush of heat that infused her body was impossible to ignore.

  “Pippen is increasing, you know,” he said. “I did not falsify that information.”

  “Fiddlesticks,” said Harriett. “That dog is no more carrying puppies than I am.”

  He lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “Would you care to place a wager on that, my lady?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I would.” She gave the matter a little thought before presenting him with her terms. “According to the Bible, which you obviously hold in high esteem, a good son would honor his parents’ wishes and not keep them waiting. It’s one of the ten commandments, you know. So if I am right, I think you ought to consider shortening your stay in Askern.”

  He chuckled softly. “Do you find my company so intolerable, Lady Harriett?”

  She didn’t answer right away because she wasn’t sure how. The truth was that sometimes she did and sometimes she didn’t. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? A person should never feel so befuddled by another. It was most unnatural, and she had no intention of allowing it to continue if she could help it.

  Rather than answer his question, she posed one of her own. “What are your terms, sir, should you win?”

  He sauntered along for a few more steps before answering. “If I should win, then if the weather permits, I’d like you to either ride or drive with me every afternoon until Jonathan returns. If the weather does not permit, I propose a game of cards or charades and some lively conversation. You see, Lady Harriett, you might find my company intolerable, but I am growing rather fond of yours.”

  Stunned into silence, Harriett continued to place one foot in front of the other. Under normal circumstances, such pretty words would have pleased her immensely, but she did not trust them anymore than she trusted him. The almost glint of humor in his eyes and his constant desire to tease planted far too many doubts in her mind. She was simply a lark to him—an entertaining way to pass the time until he returned to London.

  Certain that Pippin was not increasing, Harriett lifted her chin. “Very well, sir, I agree to your terms and look forward to… possibly forgiving you one day.”

  “Once I am no longer in your company, you mean.” He chuckled again, making Harriett wish she could stuff a stocking into his mouth. His laughter and words tricked and confused her emotions, attempting to lull her into liking him.

  It didn’t help when he gently clasped her upper arm to steer her around a small puddle, furthering her confusion. She felt his touch keenly, liking and disliking it at the same time. Why was he behaving so gentlemanly all of a sudden? Nothing about the man made sense.

  Harriett turned her thoughts back to the day she’d met him, when he’d found her distress so amusing. She needed to remember that Lieutenant Jamison and not fall victim to this newer version of him.

  “Did you not wish to stomp in that puddle, sir?” she said. “My pelisse is still clean, after all. I’m certain you are itching to muddy it.”

  “Why would I wish to do such a thing when it would also muddy my boots and breeches? Besides, it is Wicked who enjoys that particular pastime, not I.”

  “Are you certain, Lieutenant?” Harriett asked. “Because I recall overhearing you tell Charlie that you and your horse are of like minds. So, which is it? Are you a wicked person by nature, or do you immerse yourself in the Bible and strive to be respectable? You cannot be both at the same time.”

  He grinned and winked at her in a devilish way. “When a wicked person is making a valiant attempt to become unwicked, then he can be both.”

  “You expect me to believe that when you take great delight in vexing me?”

  “I did not say it was an easy feat. Merely an attempted one. As you stated earlier, we are but humans, are we not?”

  “Exactly,” she quipped. “Which is why I shan’t be forgiving you anytime soon, or any wicked person for that matter.”

  The lieutenant laughed yet again. Why he’d felt the need, she couldn’t say. She’d said nothing at all amusing. Perhaps he’d perceived that the sound of his laughter had a weakening effect on her defenses, and so he laughed as often as he could, hoping to cripple her.

  Distracted by such thoughts, Harriett took no notice of the bird perching in a tree above, at least not until the creature dropped a large white bead of goo down the arm of her deep-blue pelisse. Her eyes widened first in astonishment and then disgust. First Wicked, then Pippin, and now that wretched bird! Was every creature in the world against her? Could nothing go right for her of late?

  Openmouthed, she looked to the lieutenant for help, but did he offer her a handkerchief or express his outrage that a bird would behave so abominably? Of course not. Instead, he laughed. He laughed with so much fervor that he had to bend over and clutch his knees for support.

  This time, that particular sound did not warm Harriett’s insides or confuse her emotions in the least. It caused her blood to boil and her temper to flare. She was tired of sacrificing her pride to such a man.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally managed to say as he drew himself up and wiped at his eyes. “I could not help it. But you had only just said that your pelisse was still clean, and now—” He chuckled again, and when she did not appear amused, added, “Oh, come now, Lady Harriett, surely you can find the humor in such an unlucky coincidence. Even if you cannot, why are you glaring at me and not the bird? You must know that I had nothing at all to do with that.”

  His speech served to infuriate Harriett further, loosening her tongue to the point where she could keep silent no longer. “You are no gentleman, sir,” she blurted. “I can see now why you are so fond of my company. My misfortunes provide you with endless amounts of amusement, isn’t that right?”

  He stopped chuckling, but that dratted smile remained on his lips as he squinted through the sunlight at her. “Is this not a case of the pot calling the kettle black, my lady? Only yesterday you placed me in a predicament that gave you a reason to laugh at my expense, so are we not both at fault?”

  “I was merely trying to even the score, Lieutenant, which is only fair. But will you allow such a thing to occur? Of course not. You are determined to retain the upper hand.”

  “How, exactly, have I retained the upper hand? That bird dropping was not of my doing.”

 
; “No, but didn’t you read that passage from the Bible for my particular benefit—or rather, yours?”

  He pressed his lips together to keep from either smiling or laughing, she didn’t know which. She only knew that she felt the greatest urge to slap him.

  At long last, he seemed to gain control over his mirth. “What would you say to a truce, my lady?”

  She eyed him with distrust. “What sort of truce?”

  “If you promise to cease inflicting Pippin on me, I will promise to cease preaching. We can even do away with our wager so you will not feel obligated to keep company with me when you have no wish to do so. Although I must confess, I would miss our repartee greatly. You have a liveliness about you that I cannot help but like.”

  Amusement glittered in his eyes, along with a challenge and possibly even a hint of sincerity. Why did he say such things? And for what purpose? His words fed an insecure part of Harriett’s soul—to be liked for something deeper than her appearance—but she did not believe he truly meant it. How could he when she’d been nothing but cold to him?

  This had to be another of his tricks—a calculated attempt to put an end to a wager he knew he’d lose. But why would it matter to him if he did lose? Had Mrs. Bidding not pressured him into staying when he had no wish to do so? Would he not be glad for an excuse to return to London? Or was he so competitively driven that he felt compelled to stay until Harriett admitted defeat?

  Her head began to throb with all the questions pounding through it. Nothing about the lieutenant made sense. He was a riddle, and she wearied of trying to figure him out. She wanted him out of her head and out of her life, which was precisely why she would not agree to a truce. She would win the wager and thus the war, bid farewell to Lieutenant Jamison, and finally feel at peace once more.

  Lifting her chin, she met the lieutenant’s gaze unflinchingly. “I will admit that I have underestimated you, Lieutenant, and have allowed you to outwit me today. But you will not do so again. I have complete confidence that Pippin has merely been overfed and under-exercised, so I will not renege on our wager or admit defeat.”