Harmony of the Soul: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 8

by Jennifer Monroe

  “No, my lord,” Lydia said. “But my mistress did send me with a message.”

  “Very well. What does she say?”

  “She requests a meeting in St. Peter's Park as soon as it is convenient to discuss an important matter.” The line was clearly rehearsed.

  Nathaniel smiled and replied, “I will have my carriage brought around. Tell her we can meet at the bench on the northern side of the park by the river in an hour.”

  Lydia curtsied and hurried from the room, leaving Nathaniel alone. It had been just yesterday he had brought up the idea of courting, and he knew her father had not yet returned from his travels. So why did she wish to see him in such an unconventional manner? Had she told her mother and now the woman was now angry with her? Had Harmony changed her mind and chose Lord Miller instead.

  He laughed outright at the latter thought. That was just plain silly, and he pushed the thought out of his mind. Whatever her reason for requesting this meeting, he had only one way to find out.

  ***

  Many rumors circulated about how the bench hidden at the end of the winding rows of hedges of St. Peter's Park came into existence. One was that a long-gone Prince had thought the river so beautiful that he had the bench built so he could sit and gaze upon it for hours undisturbed. Another said it had been the site where a marchioness had taken her life and her husband wanted a place to sit and visit with her ghost. The most popular said it had been placed by a duke wishing for a secluded place to meet his lover. Regardless of the true story, it was a favorite meeting place by those who did not wish to be seen in public together.

  The sound of the sweetest melody guided him through the maze of hedges, all easily an arm’s length taller than his head. When the path opened up, he came to a stop, for his eyes fell on the most beautiful sight a man could behold.

  There stood Harmony, her voice soothing his soul. Although Nathaniel did not believe in magic or superstitions, he could not ignore the fact that her voice had the ability to bring him the greatest peace every time he heard her sing. She wore a green dress with yellow and white flowers and a white mantle over her shoulders. When she turned and saw him watching her, the song faded from her lips.

  “I have never seen nor heard anything so beautiful,” he said with a smile. “I could remain here watching you for a hundred years and want nothing more in life.”

  Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, only enhancing her beauty. “I am sorry to request to meet you like this,” she said as she walked up to him. “But it is imperative we speak.”

  “Of course,” he replied, his heart thudding in his chest. “Is everything all right? Is it your mother?”

  Harmony sighed. “It is my mother,” she said. “And Lord Miller.”

  Nathaniel groaned, his worst fears realized. “Come, let us sit,” he said, glad his hands did not shake as he took her elbow and led her to the bench. “Now, tell me what has happened.”

  “Lord Miller invited me to accompany him to a gathering on Monday afternoon, and I was not allowed to refuse.”

  “A gathering? Where?”

  “At the home of Lord and Lady Windhelm.”

  Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. “Lord Windhelm is not a person with whom you should keep company. Nor his wife. I do not like this. Did you not tell your mother my intention to court you?”

  When Harmony looked down at the ground, Nathaniel’s heart clenched. “I tried, but she refused to listen. In fact, she demanded I never see you again. I considered telling her about your holdings but doing so would only make me like my parents.” When she looked up at him, her gaze was firm. “And I am nothing like them.”

  Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Nathaniel pulled her into his arms. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “I do know the pressures they put on you.”

  Nathaniel never could understand how a woman had no choice in whom she would marry and was glad his mother had abandoned the custom with his sisters. Although the idea of marrying for convenience was still practiced today, Harmony’s parents were stricter than most. She had confided in him long ago that they scolded her for singing or attempting to hold a conversation with those they deemed unworthy. Yet, it was for all those reasons and more that Nathaniel loved her. She treated people, all people, with respect and dignity, and he could not imagine marrying any other woman.

  “Why must it be that I weigh a man’s wealth when I consider marriage and not what I feel for the man?”

  “Greed,” Nathaniel replied simply. When she glanced up at him, he added, “I do not mean to speak ill of your parents, for I am sure they are good people – in their own way. But I am afraid…” His words trailed off; he did not want to disrespect the parents of the woman he loved.

  Yet, Harmony did not seem bothered by his words. “Their greed blinds them. I know this, and it saddens me. I know they want what is best for me, and it is understandable they would not want me marrying a sheepherder or a coal miner, for it may not be the most comfortable life. Yet, I am not interested in a sheepherder or a coal miner, so why do they deny me?”

  Nathaniel wiped a tear from her cheek. “Do as your mother asks and accompany Lord Miller to this gathering. As soon as your father returns, I will speak to him concerning us.”

  “I would like that,” she said with a smile. “Then we can put all this behind us and concentrate on our future.”

  He was uncertain if it was the way the light breeze moved the tiny hairs that peeked out from under her hat or the shining tears in her eyes, but he could not stop himself from leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers. What began as a light kiss became urgent, and he had to force himself away before they took such intimacy too far.

  Harmony glanced to the right and giggled, and for the first time, Nathaniel noticed Lydia standing there, her attention so focused on a leaf he wondered if it held some undiscovered secret.

  “I believe Lydia is trying all too hard to pretend she did not notice,” Nathaniel whispered, and Harmony laughed. “When she called, I did not ask what problem you wished to discuss, for her loyalty to you is great. I would never consider compromising it. Plus, I doubt she would have told me, anyway.”

  “She is a wonderful friend,” Harmony replied. “I have asked her, and she accepted my offer to have her join me at Scarlett Hall. When the time comes, of course.” She reddened once more.

  The idea of having this woman as his wife pleased Nathaniel immensely. “I know you will love it there, for it is a home unlike any other you have ever seen.”

  “Is it larger than mine?”

  Nathaniel nodded. “Oh, yes. Imagine a manor and a castle combined into one. It has the size of a castle and the hominess of a manor. It has been the home of the Lambert family for over a hundred and fifty years, and I suspect it will stand for thrice that amount of time. If not longer.”

  Harmony smiled. “It sounds wonderful. And your mother…I cannot wait to meet her. From what you have told me, she is a woman worthy of great admiration.”

  “Indeed,” Nathaniel replied. “She is a very formidable woman. And I cannot wait to make you the next Lady Lambert.”

  “Lady Harmony Lambert,” she said in a whisper. “Oh, Nathaniel! Tell me I am not mad to think it sounds wonderful!”

  “Lady Harmony Lambert,” he repeated, testing it for himself. “Yes, it does sound wonderful.”

  Chapter Seven

  Windhelm Estate was located just outside Cambridge nestled amongst other grand homes. It’s white walls and black-trimmed windows gave the house a welcoming appearance, and Harmony thought it a lovely place.

  The inside was decorated with beautiful hand-painted wallpaper and velvet-covered seating that was pleasant to the eye but less so to the bottom. The cushions were so hard, Harmony wondered if the designers had simply covered the timber rather than using stuffing.

  Harmony and Lord Miller had arrived an hour earlier and now sat in a parlor of sorts with three other couples, and Harmony did her best to appear interested in the con
versation at hand. It was not an easy feat as the men dominated every topic, most explaining why men were better than women. Why had Lady Windhelm not invited the women to the drawing room so they could also enjoy a bit of conversation about topics they found interesting?

  “That is the very reason men control the estates and not women,” Lord Windhelm was saying. “Can you imagine if Anna were in charge here? We would be bankrupt within the month!”

  He gave a hearty laugh, and Harmony glanced at the man’s wife. It was no wonder the woman sat staring at her feet! Yet, it was also well known amongst those of the ton — and even those not of the ton — that the lady suffered at the hands of her husband.

  “I believe Harmony can be trusted,” Lord Miller said, giving her a small smile that curdled her stomach. “She is unlike most women in that she is inquisitive and able to converse with the best of us.”

  Harmony could only wonder why the man would say such a thing. Every time she attempted to converse with him on subjects that went beyond the simple, he quickly changed the conversation to something else altogether.

  Lord Windhelm gave a loud snort in response. “My friend, has the brandy already impaired your mind? You would trust a woman, any woman, with matters of great importance? Are you mad?”

  “Any woman?” Lord Miller said with a laugh. “No, not any woman, but my Harmony is not just any woman.”

  Harmony cringed inside. His Harmony?

  But Lord Windhelm looked first at her and then at Lord Miller. “I did not realize the two of you were more than friends. Are we to toast an engagement today?”

  Lord Miller gave her a sheepish grin. “I admit our courtship is not official as of yet, for I have not asked the lady, but after I speak with her father later this week, I believe we will take our first steps toward a more permanent relationship.” Then, to Harmony’s horror, he reached over and squeezed her arm, which only seemed to amuse Lord Windhelm all the more.

  “Tell me, Miss Radcliffe,” Lady Draper, a heavyset woman several years older than Harmony, said, “will you indeed accept Miller’s offer of courtship when he asks?”

  Harmony had never been put into such an awkward position. Her heart pounded against her chest to the point she was certain everyone could hear it in the silence of the room. It was as if all the people there were holding their breath as they awaited her reply.

  Lord Windhelm snapped his fingers and a footman hurried over. “Get Miss Radcliffe some wine,” he ordered without looking at the young man.

  How dare he not ask her if she wanted something more than the tea she was currently drinking? She wished Lydia was there instead of being sent to the servants’ quarters! More importantly, she wanted Nathaniel with her.

  Thinking of the man she loved gave her a burst of courage that replaced her fear. “One cannot answer a question until it is asked,” she said with a lift of her chin. “My father will offer his advice and listen to my opinion. Only then may a reply be given.”

  Much to Harmony’s amusement, Lord Miller’s face darkened, but Lord Windhelm only laughed. “You were right,” he said to Lord Miller. “She is wise. And apparently far more in control than you believed her to be.”

  Lord Windhelm turned his attention to his wife for a moment, and Lord Miller took that moment to whisper, “I shall speak to your mother about how you have embarrassed me.” His breath was hot on her ear. “I have never seen you conduct yourself in such an unladylike manner!”

  Before she could stop herself, she gaped at the man. Tears of anger welled up in her eyes – why did she wish to cry whenever she was rankled? – and for a moment she considered slapping him. “I would like to leave,” she replied in an equally low whisper. “Thank you for the invitation to accompany you.”

  As she went to stand, however, he grasped her by the wrist. To the casual observer, he was merely holding her, but the pain that radiated up her arm said otherwise. “If you embarrass me by leaving without me, I swear you will regret it. Do not test me, Harmony.”

  Although she did not respond, he gave her a sharp nod as if she had and smiled as if they had been sharing sweet words together.

  Harmony discretely rubbed her wrist and glanced at Lady Windhelm. The gaze that met hers spoke a thousand words, for they were filled with compassion.

  “Miss Radcliffe,” their host said as the conversation turned once more, “I understand you spoke with Lord Lambert at the party given by Lord Cummerbund for his daughter Emma. Are you and Lambert close friends?”

  Harmony wished the man would close his mouth and never speak again! Judging by his grin, the words were to infuriate Lord Miller, which she had no doubt they did.

  Then, to her surprise, Lady Windhelm spoke. “There is nothing so unusual about a woman having friends that one should ask about it,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

  Her husband’s face darkened. “Quiet, woman,” he growled. “I was not speaking to you, nor does anyone care to hear your opinion.”

  Harmony had seen enough. What she wanted to do was leave, and if Lord Miller became angry and informed her mother — or her father for that matter — then so be it.

  “If you meant to anger me,” Lord Miller said, “then you have failed. That Lambert boy is no match for me, whether it be in gaining the attention of a woman, conducting business, or participating in the occasional sport. I would best him every time.”

  Lord Windhelm laughed. “In business perhaps you could make that argument, but I will say that you are far from being able to brag about sport.”

  Soon, the two men were arguing, and Harmony decided now would be the perfect time to make her escape. Standing, she said, “I thank you for the honor of being in your lovely home, my lord…”

  “Please, do not leave just yet,” her host said, standing. “I am about to challenge Miller in a feat of sportsmanship. Let your day here end watching him suffer in defeat.”

  Although the sensible thing to do was to leave then, Harmony could not help but be intrigued by the idea of seeing Lord Miller bested. A lesson justified. That alone made her smile and give a nod of agreement.

  ***

  Unlike most estates, Lord Windhelm did not seem to care for extravagant gardens filled with flowers and hedges. Instead, the area behind his house contained a carefully trimmed and vast lawn, a half-dozen trees, and a birdbath. Although Harmony had to admit the view was pleasant, it lacked the variety of colors of the typical English garden.

  With Lady Windhelm walking beside her, they followed the two men down the stone path to the open lawn area. Behind them trailed the other guests, but Harmony ignored their fervent whispers and subtle glances. At the end of the path sat a large table with two bows and two quivers of arrows set upon it. Although Harmony cared little for archery, she did find the implements interesting.

  “My bowyer crafts the finest bows in all of England,” Lord Windhelm said, his voice filled with clear pride. “They cost a small fortune but are well worth the price.” He grasped one of the bows of dark stained wood and offered Lord Miller the other.

  “And what will be our target?” Lord Miller asked. “I wish to hurry and best you.”

  Their host laughed as he removed an arrow from one of the quivers. “Perhaps we should have our two ladies stand beneath one of those trees to see who is able to strike the closest without harming them?” He threw his head back and guffawed. “No, I do not trust your aim. Do you see that tree with the rot in the middle?”

  Lord Miller glanced at a single tree to the right. “Yes. What of it?”

  “The one who shoots his arrow closest to the middle of that rotted point will be the victor.”

  “And what will be the spoils besides bragging rights?” Lord Miller asked. “Twenty pounds? Or shall we wager a fine horse instead? You have seen my Cleveland bay. I will wager it against your hunter.”

  Lord Windhelm waved a dismissive hand. “That is far too conventional,” he replied. “And surely not a reward worthy of my time. I believe I
will offer up a weekend alone in London as my reward. A man needs time to think, away from his nuisance of a wife.” He shot Lady Windhelm a sneer, and she hung her head further, if that were possible.

  Harmony touched the woman’s arm and gave her a smile. Why did this man treat his wife in such a despicable manner?

  “No, I believe something more tempting would be in order,” Lord Miller said. “I believe the winner should receive a kiss from the lovely Miss Radcliffe. Surely such a victory deserves the most splendid of spoils.”

  This made Lord Windhelm chuckle, but he readily agreed. “Then we have a wager,” he said as he fitted an arrow to the bow.

  Harmony, however, was beside herself with anger. What gave them the right to use her as a wager? “I do not believe I wish to be a part of this game.” Her words fell on deaf ears. “My lord,” she said, raising her voice, “I will not be participating in this wager.”

  “Now, Miss Radcliffe,” Lord Windhelm said as he lowered his bow, speaking to her as if she were a child who had been caught stealing a sweet, “it is rude to interrupt when one is setting his aim. Your father would not be pleased with your behavior, I promise you, so it would be best if you kept quiet.”

  Never had Harmony been so humiliated, yet what Lord Windhelm said was true. He did quite a bit of business with her father and would likely report her for misconduct, and the probability of her father castigating her for her behavior was great. Her jaw ached from clenching it so tightly.

  Feeling helpless, Harmony watched on, unable to decide which man would be the less horrid. When Lord Miller looked at her, however, she silently hoped Lord Windhelm would win. His kiss would mean nothing, for he was already married. If Lord Miller were to kiss her, he would claim her as his own, and she could not have that!

  Lord Windhelm drew back his arrow, his thumb touching his cheek. A moment later, the arrow flew across the expanse of grass and struck the trunk with a distinct thunk, landing mere inches from the center of the rotted section of the tree.