“I did not. Thank you for your quick thinking. The young lady is quite persistent in her attentions to me, but I don’t return her interest.”
“Perhaps your interest lies elsewhere,” Harriet said with a cheeky grin.
“Perhaps, my lady.”
Harriet danced again with Mr. Pratt and Lord Cawley. Of the two, Mr. Pratt seemed the more talkative and genuinely interested in what she had to say. Lord Cawley talked mostly about himself, his hounds, and his horses. She was bored to tears listening to him prattle on and was glad when the dance ended.
That night when she was tucked into bed, Harriet relived Jon’s glorious kisses. What would it feel like for his lips to caress her skin? She had a vague idea of what happened between a man and a woman. While they lived at her grandmother’s houseduring Mercy’s debut, she’d read every gothic novel in Lady Dalling’s library. She’d thought it was an exaggeration when she read about the way the heroine swooned at the sight of the hero, but she’d felt those same feelings when the earl had kissed her. Now she wanted more and desperately to convince him that she was the right woman for him. It was time he stopped hiding on his estate and enjoyed life.
She fell asleep, hugging her pillow and dreaming of her avenging angel.
True to his word, Lord Spenser was waiting for her at the stables the next morning. “Good morning, Lady Harriet.”
“Good morning. I’m delighted you could rouse yourself for our ride. I suspect you’ll love the quiet of the morning so much, I’ll see you more often.”
He chuckled. “I’m not so sure about that, my lady. I do like my bed a little too much.” He helped Harriet into the saddle before mounting the gelding a groom had saddled for him. “He’s beautiful.”
“Yes, he is. That’s Thunder.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
Harriet nudged Meribelle out of the stables. “You’ll see. He runs like the wind, and his hoofs pound the ground. It’s definitely almost as loud as thunder.”
“Well, then. Let’s see how much noise we can make,” George said, urging Thunder into a gallop.
Harriet threw her head back and laughed. Lord Spenser was always a good sport, but there was no way she was going to let him beat her this morning. She leaned over Meribelle’s neck. “Come on, girl. Let’s show these boys what we can do.” The horse whinnied as she took off, racing for the tree line. Harriet loved the feel of the wind on her face. It was the most freeing sensation and for the time it took to gallop to the tree line, she had stopped worrying about the earl.
Lord Hartley wasn’t at the property line today, and though she was disappointed, Harriet was enjoying her time with Lord Spenser. Meribelle beat the gelding by a nose, and Harriet let out a cry of joy as she patted the horse’s neck. “Well done, girl.”
“That was exhilarating,” George said. “My dear, you ride very well. I’ve not seen your equal.”
“Thank you, Lord Spenser. I’ve been riding since I was three years old, when my Papa gave me my first pony.”
They walked the horses through the forest to the stream so they could drink after their gallop. George helped her dismount.
“So, did that convince you to ride out with me more often?” Harriet asked.
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I still like my warm, soft bed more,” he said with a chuckle.
“Very well. If you change your mind, I usually ride at the same time every morning.”
“About that, my lady…”
Harriet turned around to face him. “My lord, is something wrong?”
“That’s not for me to say. However, I am concerned about your growing attachment to Hartley.”
“Do you disapprove?”
“Not at all. But he’s a complicated man and may not be able to give you what you want.”
“I can be patient until he feels more comfortable around me.”
“And what if that never happens? What then?”
“Are you telling me that the earl is incapable of having a relationship with me?”
“I honestly don’t know,” George said, grasping her hand. “My lady, I care about your well-being, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”
