by Robyn DeHart
She hadn’t yet told Agnes or any of the others, because she first wanted to ensure that everything would be feasible. Playing matchmaker for Lord Davenport didn’t promise to be a simple task, but it was a small trade to be able to have a private space to continue her training.
…
Once Oliver had decided to marry Harriet, he needed to know what she was doing with her time. For the past two days, he’d been spying on her, for lack of a better description of his behavior. Since he’d handed her a set of keys to the townhome she insisted on borrowing without explanation as to her intent.
He wasn’t precisely watching her as he was the string of servants who were carrying in the most bizarre of items. Thus far, he had counted no fewer than seven hay-filled mattresses, and at least two stuffed figures, much like scarecrows. He had no notion as to what she was up to, and he had agreed to not ask any questions.
As far as he was concerned there was only one reason to use a mattress. And she sure as hell better not be doing that with another man. Nor did she require seven different mattresses to do it.
Was she opening a brothel? He actually chuckled. Prim and proper Harriet even discussing the activities that took place within the walls of a brothel would have her blushing. There was only one way for him to uncover the truth behind her plan, which was why he currently leaned against the wall inside a darkened storage room.
He had to wait only a quarter of an hour before Harriet herself strode in. He knew it was her because he recognized her voice. At the sound of her laughter his gut tightened. It made him wonder if there was anything about her that wouldn’t create some visceral reaction in him.
He had selected the small storage room off the ballroom, which is where he discovered all the mattresses grouped together in the center of the floor. Evidently, he’d missed a delivery of one, because in total, there were eight. All laid out they presented a large padded rectangle underneath the great chandelier. A most peculiar discovery.
Though he could not see her directly without opening the storage room door, he could hear her giving instructions, so she obviously had a companion with her.
“As soon as we can get some of the other girls here, we will be able to make the most of the space,” Harriet said.
Her companion mumbled something he was unable to hear, so much so that he was unable to determine if it was a man or a woman. Harriet had mentioned something about the other girls. Had he so misjudged her? Was it possible she was involved in some nefarious sexual group? Was she intending to move people into his property?
“Until then it is up to you and me to practice,” Harriet said.
Practice?
They were quiet for a few moments, and then he heard Harriet speak again.
“Now then, you come for me.” Which was quickly followed by a distinct groan. A few more moments passed with an exchange of grunts and shuffles. What in the hell was she doing out there?
He couldn’t take it any longer. If she were with a man, he damned well needed to know. She was going to be his wife, and he had the right to know how the hell she was spending her time. He braced his cane on the floor and gently opened the door.
Harriet stood over someone with a parasol aimed at their throat. She’d stripped off her dress and wore only her pantaloons, chemise, and corset. Her breathing was labored and her expression fierce. His mouth went dry. Lust pounded through him.
“What the devil is going on in here?”
She started, dropped her “weapon.” “My lord!” She held out a hand to her companion, who turned out to be her lady’s maid.
His eyes scanned the area around them. The mattresses were still spaced together on the floor to make a patchwork pillow. There was the parasol and then some other weapon-looking thing, an exceptionally thin blade that was now piercing into one of the stuffed figures.
“Were you hiding in a storage room?” she asked. Her labored breathing caused her magnificent breasts to move up and down. A delicious flush splattered her skin, and perspiration gleamed at her temples and above her lip. He wanted to lick it off. He moved closer.
Her lack of clothing didn’t seem to be bothering her, but it was distracting him to near madness. This much of her exposed creamy flesh and all he could think about was removing the rest of her garments so he could feast on her delectable curves.
He eyed her maid. “Leave us!” Then he moved his gaze back to Harriet.
“Harriet?” the maid asked quietly.
“Go, Lottie. We’ll be finished talking in a few moments.”
“But, my lady, your dress.” Her eyes lowered to indicate Harriet’s state. She handed the dress to Harriet, which she then held up to her chest.
The maid left them standing in the cavernous ballroom. Harriet still stood on top of the mattresses, and he was damned close to tossing her backward onto them.
Anger rolled off her in hot waves. “You hid in there to spy on me?”
“I did.”
“You don’t even bother to deny it?”
“What purpose would that serve?”
“I don’t know. But this is just like you to hide in wait and spy on me. You’re so damned accustomed to getting whatever you want, whenever you want it.” She shook her head. “You allow that unquenchable greed to dictate every move you make, regardless of how it affects anyone else. Any promises or agreements shoved to the side.”
“This has nothing to do with greed.” Though wanting her certainly did. He wanted her at the moment with such intensity, he was surprised he hadn’t pounced on her yet.
“Of course it does. You have no ability to tell yourself no, no strength of will to walk away from something you want. You were curious about what I was doing, and despite our agreement that you would not ask questions, you came to get precisely what you wanted.”
She doubted his ability to control his urges and desires; he’d show her precisely how much control he had. When this was over, it would be her begging him. “Are you going to tell me what all of this is about?” She was sexy as hell when angry. He gripped the top of his cane tighter to rein in his desire.
She tilted up her head and walked off the mattresses, brushing past him. “I am not.”
“I’m not an idiot, Harriet.” He followed her.
She wiped the sweat off her forehead and neck with a rag. The hair along her nape and face was damp, and it drew him closer.
“I never suggested you were.” She turned to face him and started, not realizing he had closed the distance between them. He took a step forward. She took a step backward.
Granted he hadn’t figured everything out, but he recognized enough of what was before him and, combined with the latest scandal reverberating through Society… it was easy enough to put two and two together.
She backed against the wall behind her and froze, her brown eyes wide.
“I read the article. Are you part of this group of ladies who fight crime? Is that what you’re doing here, practicing?” he asked.
She sucked in a breath, confirming everything, but said nothing.
“That is quite a dangerous activity for a genteel lady.”
“I have training and can protect myself.”
He grinned.
She exhaled loudly, quite obviously annoyed she’d revealed something to him. “You are a beast.”
He braced one hand on the wall behind her, put his body close enough to her that he could feel the warmth radiating off her skin, smell her subtle floral scent. She boldly looked up at him, no fear. Her eyes darkened, and her lips parted.
“Are you going to kiss me again?”
He chuckled. “Do you want me to?”
Her breath caught. “Of course not.”
“I disagree. I think you do.” He took his hand off the wall and traced a finger down her cheek.
Her breath stuttered.
“Sweet Harriet, I think you desperately want me to kiss you.” His thumb traced over her bottom lip.
She subconsciously di
pped her tongue out to wet her lips and instead licked across his finger.
And it took every ounce of his control to not oblige her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Proving my point.”
She swallowed visibly. “Which is?”
He let his gaze bore into her. Moved his body close enough that she could not doubt his arousal. He ground it against her to make certain.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
“That I can want something desperately and still walk away.” He shoved away from her then and left the room. He had to get some distance between them else he would toss her down on those mattresses and have his way with her.
…
Harriet squeaked. There was no other way to describe the noise that came from her throat. She closed her eyes, kept her back pressed to the wall, and concentrated on her breathing.
Prove his point indeed. He’d been in perfect control; it was she who had lost it. She never yelled at people. She had never, not even once, allowed something to slip about the Ladies of Virtue. Yet she’d buckled under his gaze. What was it about him that seemed to bring out her worst qualities? Making her angry and frustrated and…wanton.
Her body still hummed with anticipation. Of what, she wasn’t certain, but she’d wanted more. Wanted him to touch her, kiss her. The feel of his arousal pressed against her had nearly been her undoing. She’d forgotten that her maid was in the other room. Harriet had wanted to open herself to him, wrap her legs around his thighs and let him do whatever he could to ease the ache he’d started in her core.
She had to find him a wife. And soon. Before she lost her senses completely and did something ridiculous. Like fall in love with the Marquess of Davenport.
Chapter Six
After his impromptu spying on her, Harriet was tempted to cancel their entire agreement. He could find his own wife. Except she truly needed that townhome. She didn’t want her skills dulled, neither did Agnes and a few of her other close friends from the Ladies of Virtue.
They needed a place to continue their practice. She couldn’t deny that, though she might not find him amiable, she instinctively recognized that she could trust him. He didn’t appear to be fond of anyone in this town nor was he a gossip. Still, it made her uneasy that he’d seen her in such a way.
And he’d gotten so close to her. She’d been able to feel the heat from his body and smell the woodsy scent of him. Then the hard length of him pressed against her. There’d been no mistaking that. Her body had reacted so strongly. She’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d wanted him to do more than kiss her.
But that was preposterous. She chalked it up to the fact that she’d been lonely for much of her adult life. Granted, she pretended as if it were perfectly acceptable to her that she hadn’t found a husband or even had any serious suitors. None of that changed the fact that she wanted to get married, and she’d settle for nothing less than a love match. It had worked for her parents as well as her sister.
Waiting for love also kept her safe from any other potentially humiliating scenarios like the one she’d shared with Oliver six years ago when he’d so harshly rejected her and her dowry. If she insisted on waiting for a love match, no one would be able to hurt her. The waiting had gone on for so long, though, she was nearly certain there was no one out there to love her. But she didn’t need a husband to make her happy. She had the Ladies of Virtue, and she refused to let some mysterious and anonymous woman destroy their group.
Which meant that Harriet needed to maintain her agreement with Lord Davenport so she could continue to use that townhome. She’d sent a message to him earlier, requesting they meet at the Crystal Palace. It was the perfect location for her to point out prospective brides to him without it being too obvious. Tonight there was a special concert being held, and she knew that plenty of marriageable women would be there. All for his choosing.
It was so much easier for men. She rolled her eyes. They could practically step into a room and point at any woman and demand she marry him, provided he had a title or wealth.
“Already irritated, I see. I didn’t think I was that late.”
His voice poured over her like warmed chocolate, and she nearly sighed. What is the matter with me? He was an annoying man. One who knew far too many of her secrets.
She looked up at him and sucked in a breath. While he hadn’t shaved, he had trimmed his beard, and he’d tied his hair back in a queue. He gave her a wolfish grin.
“You look particularly fetching today, Lady Harriet. That color suits you quite well,” he said.
She frowned.
“You disagree?”
“Stop wasting your time flirting with me. We have a mutual agreement. You have fulfilled your end, or at least part of it, by allowing me to use the Burkes townhome. But I must know, are you going to tell anyone what you discovered about me?” she asked in a whisper.
“About your special skills?”
Despite his beard, she could see the effects of his smile. Her heart stuttered. Blast him for being so handsome. “Yes, about that.”
“Of course not. All of your secrets are safe with me, sweet Harriet.”
It was on her tongue to inquire as to what other secrets he thought he knew, but she decided it was best to not open that particular Pandora’s box. “Thank you. Now it is up to me to fulfill my end of the bargain and find you a bride.”
“Very well then, lead on, my lady.” He held his elbow out to her, but she ignored it and walked forward.
They walked silently for a moment before she spotted a possible candidate for him.
“Do you see the girl over there, the one in the green dress with the reddish-brown hair?”
He nodded.
“That is Jane Spencer, and she is sweet. She is quite popular at balls, because she’s a glorious dancer and—”
“I cannot dance,” he said flatly.
“Of course.” Why was it that she always seemed to flaunt that to him? It wasn’t intentional. She rarely noticed his cane or his limp. Though she knew others did. There were fantastic stories and theories of how he’d injured himself. She wasn’t certain anyone knew the truth.
“Perhaps you want to tell me what you’re looking for in a wife.”
“I prefer fair-haired ladies.” His eyes met hers. “And curves I can grab onto, particularly for activities in the bedroom.” He let his gaze sweep down her body. Slowly.
She knew her cheeks heated. And her chest. She probably glowed from the blush. And she found it difficult to breathe. She felt exposed, as if he could see every flaw she hid beneath her blue gown. Of course, he hadn’t meant her. She had far too many curves. There were others that fit his criteria.
“Lady Tabitha.” She gently motioned with her head to the woman perusing the jewelry display in the Renaissance court. “Looks to be what you’re looking for. She is a quiet girl, polite, yet well-read enough to voice an opinion when she has one.” Then she frowned. “I am told she has a penchant for small dogs.”
“I loathe small dogs,” he said plainly.
And so their conversation went for the better part of an hour as they strolled through the exhibits. She would point out a pretty girl, give him information about her, and then he would promptly discount said girl for some ridiculous reason.
They had made their way into the Greek court and found themselves remarkably alone. She turned on him.
“If you’re not going to take this seriously, I am wasting time with which I could be doing something else,” she said.
“Like catching thieves?”
“Be quiet! Someone might hear you.”
“In case it has escaped your attention, we are perfectly alone in here.” He moved his hand to rest on the small of her back.
The touch sent chills scattering in every direction. She searched the room and they were, in fact, completely alone. Evidently the attendants had all made their way to the concert.
“So alone I could perhaps steal a k
iss before anyone became the wiser,” he said.
She sucked in a breath. He wouldn’t dare. I don’t want him to. Do I? “You are wasting my time. I am giving you good suggestions, and you are finding one reason after another to dismiss said suggestions.”
He shrugged. “I know what I like and what I don’t like.”
“Then perhaps you should find your own wife.” She glared at him.
And he had the audacity to grin at her. A crooked smile that seemed to tug at her heart, which was ridiculous.
“There is one person you could suggest whom I wouldn’t veto.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I swear you are the most exasperating of men.”
His brow rose.
“If you have someone in mind, simply tell me; I can arrange an introduction,” she said.
“I need no introduction. I know her. Quite well, actually. I know what she smells like.” He took a step closer so that he was so close to her she could feel his warm breath against her bare neck. “Cherries and cloves, a most intoxicating mixture. I know the precise shade of her eyes when she’s overcome with desire, like the sea after a summer rain.”
Harriet did her best not to close her eyes and lean in to the seductiveness of his voice. Good heavens. She swallowed and tried to concentrate on her breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
“I know the taste of her mouth, the feel of her tongue on mine, tentative, yet passionate.”
“You should marry her, then,” she said, knowing he could hear the breathlessness in her tone. “She sounds as if she is everything you could want.”
“Oh, she is.”
“I see.” She wondered for a moment if he was going to reveal that he couldn’t marry the woman in question because she was already wed to someone else. Lady Burgess. Perhaps he still loved her. “If you know her, my lord, you should simply ask her to marry you. Unless she is already married.”
“No, she’s quite available.” He was quiet for a moment. His hand trailed down the spine of her back and landed at her waist. He rested his hand on the curve of her hip. “’Tis you, sweet Harriet. Marry me.”
