The Pursuit of Lady Harriett (Tanglewood Book 3)

by Rachael Anderson

  He probably wouldn’t be there anyway. There was no telling what time he chose to sneak into the kitchen. For all she knew, it could be two in the morning. What were the odds that he would be there at—she snatched a timepiece from her bedside table and held it up to the moonlight—almost half past midnight?

  Goodness, had she really been tossing in her bed for two hours? This was beyond ridiculous. Honestly, what had Cora been thinking to plant such a notion in her mind?

  Another ten minutes passed before Harriett finally gave up and threw the covers aside. If she did not go down and see with her own eyes that he was not there, she would probably be up all night. That was not at all acceptable, and so she would go down for the sake of her health and well being.

  She pulled on her dressing gown, glanced in the mirror to make sure her side braid was still intact, and lit a candle before slipping out the door. As she neared the kitchen, she thought she heard some sort of noise that caused her body to stiffen and her ears to strain, but no more sounds came. Harriett berated her overly active imagination and stepped through the door, expecting to find a dark and empty kitchen on the other side. Instead, she found Jonathan coming out of the butler’s pantry with what appeared to be forks.

  She let out her breath, feeling both relieved and disheartened. It was only Jonathan. Apparently, Cora had been wrong about her husband not being the culprit after all.

  “You look disappointed,” he said before disappearing back in the pantry.

  “No, of course not,” Harriett said quickly. “It’s just that I’d hoped…” She clamped her mouth shut and felt her cheeks burn. Good grief, had she really almost said that she’d hoped to see Chris? Apparently the late hour did have a way of loosening one’s tongue. If she had any sense at all, she’d flee back to her bedchamber this instant.

  A clatter sounded in the larder, and out came the devil himself, carrying what appeared to be a plate of leftover cake. The moment Harriett spotted him in his rumpled shirt and trousers, her heartbeat surged, much to her annoyance.

  He grinned at her. “You had hoped to see me, didn’t you, Harry? Admit it.”

  Never.

  Harriett set her candle on a nearby shelf and stepped away from its light, hoping the darkness would enshroud her flaming face. “I was actually hoping to find Cora here,” she said as Jonathan reemerged from the pantry with a handful of forks. That had sounded convincing, hadn’t it?

  Not according to the skeptical look Chris directed at her. “Because… spending the entire day with her was not enough?”

  Jonathan snickered, and Harriett felt the sudden urge to stuff a large slice of cake into Chris’s mouth. Why must he always be so vexing? “It’s only that I… forgot to tell her something… important. That’s all.” Apparently Harriett could now add a dreadful liar to her ever increasing list of weaknesses. She was deplorable at it.

  “Why not tell Jonathan your important news, whatever it is, and he can convey it to Cora as soon as possible?” Chris suggested in his unhelpful way.

  “Heavens no,” said Harriett. “She’s probably already asleep, and I wouldn’t wish for her to be awakened.”

  “Then you are a better person than I,” said Jonathan as he set the forks on the table and took the cake from Chris. With swift movements, he sliced off a large chunk, slid it onto a plate, and picked up two of the forks. On his way out of the kitchen, he paused at Harriett’s side. “I have not seen my wife all day and fully intend to awaken her. It’s a boorish thing to do, I realize, but I hope to gain her forgiveness by presenting this as a peace offering.”

  Harriett eyed the slice of cake. “I believe it will take much more than that. You have ignored her these past three days.”

  “I think you’re underestimating the power of this particular lemon cake.”

  “And I think you are overestimating its power.”

  He chuckled and lifted the plate as though making a toast to her and then Chris. “I wish you both a good night.”

  He backed out of the room a moment later, leaving Harriett alone with a man who looked far too mischievous for his own good—or hers, for that matter. If there was ever a moment to excuse herself, now would be it. If only she could get her lips to say the words and her feet to move in the direction of the door.

  Chris didn’t seem to feel the same unease. He plopped down on a stool and pulled out another, gesturing for her to sit next to him. “If it’s any consolation, I have been missing you as well. All this talk of money, crops, drainage, and location has wreaked havoc on my overwhelmed mind. I’m in desperate need of the sort of distraction that only you can provide, Harry. Come, I beg you, and share some cake with me. It truly is delicious.”

  Feeling somewhat appeased despite his annoying use of “Harry,” Harriett did as he bid, but she could not make her body relax. Her back rigid, she waited for him to slice and serve the cake, but instead, he slid the entire mound between them and snatched one of the forks from the table.

  “I’m famished,” was all he said before helping himself to a mouthful.

  Harriett blinked a few times before rolling her eyes. “I think your nanny failed to teach you proper manners.”

  “She attempted to, but I was not what you’d call an adept pupil.” He swallowed another bite and gestured to the cake. “If I were you, I’d cease glaring at me and have a taste before there is none left to be had. I meant it when I said that I was hungry.”

  Harriett almost laughed. There had to be a third of the cake left. Did he truly intend to finish it off? With a shake of her head, she retrieved a fork and took a bite as well, noting with surprise that it was, indeed, delicious. Heavenly, in fact. Moist and light, with a hint of lemon and vanilla, it melted over her tongue.

  “This has to be the most divine cake I have ever tasted,” she murmured before stealing another bite.

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “And it is all ours.”

  “I wonder what Mrs. Caddy will say tomorrow when she discovers it gone.”

  “She’ll probably want Jonathan to exile me, or at the very least give me a sound lecture. I suppose it's a good thing I have been making myself useful of late.”

  Harriett studied him for a moment, noticing the weariness behind his stubble-coated jaw and red-rimmed eyes. It was obvious he had not been sleeping much.

  “How, exactly, have you been making yourself useful?” she asked, sincerely curious. Ever since her brother, Colin, had married, discussions about tenant farms, renovations, rents, crops, livestock, repairs, servants, and other issues often arose during dinner at Langtry Park. At first, Harriett had thought such conversations tedious in the extreme, but as she came to understand the way of things better, she learned to enjoy them. Problems became riddles to her, and she had always loved solving riddles.

  “If you want to know the truth of it,” said Chris, sounding a bit sheepish. “I really haven’t been all that useful. Jonathan has been doing his utmost to enlighten me on the latest farming methods and the business behind it all, but he is attempting to impress upon me in a matter of days what has taken him years to learn. It does not help that I have always been a slower study than him.”

  Harriett’s eyes widened at this revelation. Could it be that Chris had an actual failing?

  “I find that hard to believe,” she said.

  He shook his head and chuckled. “Whether or not you believe it, 'tis true. Jonathan can read a book once, grasp its concepts entirely, and remember everything he wants to remember. I, on the other hand, need time and repetition to understand.”

  Harriett felt an odd desire to reach out and comfort him. Why, she couldn’t say. After all that had happened, she should be rejoicing that she had finally discovered a weakness in him.

  Chris stretched his neck from side to side and grimaced. “The trouble is that because I am still attempting to grasp basic principles, I am no help at all when serious problems arise. Much of our time lately has consisted of me listening while he thinks out loud or
discusses possible resolutions with the land steward and solicitor. Anytime he poses a question to me, I can only shrug. It’s irritating in the extreme.”

  Harriett had never seen Chris in such a state. It was both shocking and… sort of wonderful, actually. She rather liked this version of him—not in a gleeful sort of way (at least not too gleeful), but in a perhaps he’s human after all way.

  “The worst bit is that I’m beginning to think his offer to invest in my estate was made out of pity. Why else would he willingly invest in an estate run by a man who knows nothing about business or farming?”

  Harriett had no idea what he was talking about. What investment? And what did he mean about not knowing anything about farming? “I don’t understand why you would say such things. Are you not well versed in the Norfolk method? During our drive, you implied as much.”

  His chuckle contained very little humor. “I did not. I only said I’d heard of it, and that is entirely different than understanding it.”

  Harriett’s mouth dropped open. He’d only heard of it? She thought back to that dreadful drive when that particular conversation had been the undoing of her. She’d practically fallen to pieces over it, behaving like an emotional ninnyhammer. And all this time, she’d actually known more than him?

  “Unbelievable,” Harriett muttered under her breath, feeling vexed all of a sudden.

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked.

  “Oh, er… nothing.” Determined not to let him get to her yet again, she attempted to gather her wits about her. What were they discussing? Oh, yes, his helplessness.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” she said, “what problems have arisen?”

  He set his fork down and turned to face her, leaning his elbow on the table as he eyed her curiously. “Are you truly interested? Because it’s incredibly tedious.”

  “I would not have asked if I wasn’t.”

  He smiled a little as though he didn’t believe her, but continued anyway. “The biggest complication is the matter of the land. Tanglewood has only a small section in the northwest corner that is ideal for planting crops, but it’s not large enough for Jonathan’s purposes. He could fell some particularly large trees and level some additional ground to make the area a bit larger, but a pond and wetlands to the south and east inhibit additional growth.”

  Harriett considered his words. “Surely he knew of this problem before now.”

  Chris nodded. “Of course. He’s been in communication for some time with the owner of the property to the west. Last November, they came to an agreement that Jonathan could purchase a portion of his property, but that was before Jonathan’s potential business associates backed out of the deal. And now that his finances are back in order and he is ready to proceed, Mr. O’Rourke has suddenly experienced a change of heart.”

  “Why?” Harriett asked.

  “He’s arrived at the conclusion that his land will be easier to sell in its entirety. If Jonathan wants that particular parcel, he must buy everything.”

  “I see,” said Harriett. “Am I to assume he cannot afford to do such a thing?”

  “He can, but he has no need for the rest of the land. We’ve also discussed the possibility of farming some of my family’s land in Cornwall, but if Jonathan’s money is tied up here, that is obviously out of the question.”

  Harriett nodded in understanding, and Chris shot her a curious look as though he could not fathom why she would be interested in this particular discussion. It raised her hackles a little.

  “What, you think a mere woman cannot grasp business concepts?”

  He blinked and shook his head, appearing annoyed by her supposition. “I believe anyone can grasp any concept they wish to, though I’ll admit to being a trifle surprised when you mentioned the four-course system during our last drive together. But tonight, I’m merely grateful to you. Not many women would care to listen to a weary man’s ramblings.”

  “As I told Cora only this morning, I am not most people,” said Harriett, half teasing and half hoping he would agree.

  “I am well aware that you are not, Harriett,” he said with a slight smile. “You are an Original, to be sure.”

  Harriett had been called that many times during her first London season, but this was the first time the compliment went deeper, as though it included all of her and not just the shell surrounding her head and heart. It soothed and warmed her in that way only Chris had ever been able to do. But had he truly meant it?

  She pulled her gaze from his and turned her mind back to the problem at hand. “What about Mr. Shepherd's property? Can you not farm two separate areas? Does he have some land adjacent to Tanglewood’s that he might be able to sell Jonathan?”

  Chris shook his head as though they’d already considered that. “That side of Mr. Shepherd's property would be even more difficult to drain than Tanglewood’s.”

  “I see,” mused Harriett, still thinking. There had to be a solution. There was always a solution if a person looked hard enough. “Would Mr. O’Rourke be willing to lease the land?”

  Chris shook his head. “Jonathan has no desire to lease it. What would happen should a buyer be found and that buyer did not want Jonathan farming his land any longer?”

  Harriett had to concede that would be a problem. Unfortunately, she had no more suggestions to offer at the moment, which left Jonathan with only two options. “So he must either find a way to convince Mr. O’Rourke to sell only what land is needed or not invest in your property.”

  Chris nodded. “Perhaps we can find some sort of buried treasure hidden away somewhere and solve all of our problems.”

  “I have always loved a good treasure hunt,” Harriett said.

  His answering smile did not quite reach his eyes, which he rubbed and blinked as though they were difficult to keep open.

  Harriett looked at what remained of the cake. Apparently, he didn’t intend to finish it off after all, so she collected their forks and stood. “Forgive me for saying so, but you look quite done in, Chris. If you do not go up to bed now, you will probably fall asleep here. Only imagine what Mrs. Caddy might say if she discovers you here with the mostly-eaten cake. For your own sake, you ought to retire. I will do my best to tidy things up.”

  Before she could move away from him, he grabbed her hand and guided her to sit back down, keeping hold of her fingers. “Not so fast, my lady. I meant it when I said that I’m in desperate need of the distraction that only you can provide. Thus far, all I have done is burden you with my troubles.”

  “I do not feel at all burdened, sir.” Indeed, Harriett suddenly felt breathless and somewhat giddy. The effect this man had on her was something of a wonder.

  “Sir?” he asked. “I thought we were beyond that.”

  “I thought so as well, but you only just called me ‘my lady.’”

  He frowned and blinked as though he hadn’t realized he had. “Forgive me, Harry. I fear my exhaustion has muddled my thinking.”

  This time, she did not let the name slide. She snatched her hand free and frowned at him. “Obviously it has.”

  He laughed—not a tired attempt at a laugh, but a real one filled with the richness that warmed her straight through. Only this time, it did not bother her at all. In fact, it felt wonderful, almost like a compliment.

  “I knew you’d come through for me,” he said, leaning close enough to touch shoulders with her. “You have no idea how much I needed to laugh or how good that felt. I could honestly kiss you right now.”

  Harriett tried her best not to blush or appear astonished by the suggestion—he had obviously made the comment in jest—but when his smile widened into a devilish grin, she knew she’d failed. He leaned in closer, and his gaze wandered briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes. She could smell vanilla and lemon and a hint of something else—leather perhaps? A delightful pulse whipped down her arm, and she was hard-pressed not to shiver.

  “Admit it,” he said. “You have missed me.”

&
nbsp; Harriett nearly agreed that she had, but caught herself just in time. Such a declaration might very well lead to a kiss, and she was not ready for that. A loose tongue was one thing, loose morals quite another.

  “Not at all,” she said, suddenly anxious to leave before she did something she’d undoubtedly regret. In the wink of an eye, she slipped off the stool and rose. “Good night, Chris,” she added before fleeing the room as quickly as she could.

  His answering chuckle followed her down the hall, up the stairs, and all the way to her bedchamber, where it pestered and prodded and kept her awake the remainder of the night.

  CHRISTOPHER AWOKE LATE THE next morning feeling greatly restored. He tucked his hands under his head and stared at the tall ceiling, wondering what the day would bring. More hours shut away in Jonathan’s cramped study? Please no. Christopher didn’t think he could fit any more information into his overcrowded mind. He needed a reprieve from anything to do with business or farming or problem solving. But would Jonathan agree? Probably not. Although Harriett had hinted that Cora had been feeling neglected, so maybe Jonathan could be convinced to set business aside for the day and enjoy some time with the ladies.

  Dragging himself from the comfortable bed, Christopher dressed quickly and went to the breakfast parlor, where he found a sideboard filled with everything from bacon and poached eggs to toast and marmalade. Apparently, the others had already come and gone, so Christopher began piling his plate high with food, determined to fill his belly before he subjected himself to whatever Jonathan had planned.

  The moment he sat down, Watts walked into the room.

  “Good morning, Lieutenant Jamison,” the butler said. “I apologize if the food is a trifle cold. We tried our best to keep it warm, but I’m not sure we succeeded. If you’d like, I can ask Mrs. Caddy to prepare something fresh.”

  “Gads, no,” said Christopher, thinking the offer absurd. “It is my fault for sleeping so late, not that it matters in the least. During the war, I learned to eat anything regardless of its temperature. This looks delicious, by the way. Please convey my thanks to Mrs. Caddy.” Perhaps a kind word from him would soften her heart regarding the mostly-eaten cake.