“No, thank you. I’m actually here to—” Harriet gestured vaguely toward Lord Alexander’s body.
“Yes, I assumed so. I heard you two had quite themeetingat the Dunley ball this evening.” Giuliana peered up over the rim of her brandy glass in a way that sent a thrill through Harriet. The womanwas clearly good at her job. The wordmeetingsounded positively filthy coming from her mouth.
“No, no, we didn’t—we just … His arms, mostly … And, well, my wrist. Someone saw, you see? Well, they didn’t see. But they thought they saw. Something. But nothing happened. So then he … Well, he didn’t offer, which I understand, but I have sisters. Younger ones. So, I’m here because my father is missing. Well, not missing. But gone. He gambles a lot. And goes off for months on end. So we have to marry, you understand …”
Despite her frenzied and nonsensical monologue, Giuliana nodded. “I do, in fact, although you’re going to have a devil of a time discussing such things with him tonight. He’s quite drunk, I’m afraid.”
“Typical, I suppose,” Harriet muttered. Giuliana seemed about to say something, but she held back. The weight of the evening’s events chose precisely then to settle on Harriet, and she felt suddenly on the verge of crying. Crying wasn’t an act Harriet was opposed to, but she didn’t particularly relish the idea of doing so in front of this goddess.
“So, what’s our plan, then?” Giuliana asked, a glint in her eye. For such a vexing, vain man, Alexander certainly surrounded himself with warm and welcoming people.
“Plan?”
“Certainly, you didn’t come all the way here to the house of a known Cyprian without a plan?”
“My plan got incapacitated,” Harriet said, gesturing vaguely once again in the direction of Lord Alexander, who she assumed was still slumped and softly snoring in his chair. No doubt his breecheswere still unfastened and halfway down his lap, but Harriet had been studiously avoiding checking on that.
“Your plan was to get him to agree, yes?”
“Yes …?” Harriet had no idea where this was going.
“Agree to what?”
“… To marriage,” Harriet said, wondering which of the two of them was the dimwit.
“Of course, dear, but what then? Was it to be a special license? Or banns to be read in hopes your father returned in time? Or an elopement? Come now, what did you have in mind?”
“Ideally … Well, I can’t wait for the banns to be read. My father is unlikely to return for an age. I certainly can’t procure a special license myself. Even if he were amenable, we’d need him awake for that. I supposed I hoped for, well, an elopement.” Harriet winced.
“Marvelous!” Giuliana said, clapping her hands together. The woman had a lot of faith in the blanket stretched across her bosom, petite though she was. “I must admit, I’m a sap when it comes to elopements! So romantic!” Every time Harriet felt she was getting somewhere in this conversation, it turned, and she was left wondering which of the two of them didn’t understand things. Nothing about this situation was romantic.
“He’s … well, he’s asleep, Miss Hightower,” she gingerly reminded the woman.
“I insist you call me Giuliana, and I fear he’s a little past asleep. The poor fellow has had enough brandy to kill every man in the House of Lords.”
“Even worse!” Harriet exclaimed, throwing up her hands and trying not to lose patience.
“Evenbetter,” Giuliana smirked, leaning back against the velvet divan, looking more regal, more divine than ever. Had Harriet any ounce of artistic ability she would have wanted to paint the scene. “Now, you needn’t waste your time getting Alexander to agree. You’ll find he’s quiteagreeableas he is.”
Harriet’s throat caught a bit at her casual use of his given name.
“Convenient, that,” Giuliana continued, “since he’s a stubborn bugger when awake; can’t convince the poor sod of anything unless he’s made to think it’s his idea.”
“I know the type well,” Harriet answered.
“Now that we have everything sorted, would you like any tea before you go?” Harriet wasn’t sure they hadanythingsorted, or where she was meant to go, but Giuliana appeared entirely serene as she rang a small brass bell sitting on her occasional table.
Within seconds, the doors to the sitting room opened and a strikingly handsome footman appeared. Harriet noted idly that she was in the presence of the three most beautiful people she’d ever seen. Not that she was looking at Lord Alexander; she was in fact studiouslynotlooking.
“Richard, darling, please tell Charleston to ready my carriage, and then pack a few of Lord Alexander’s things into a trunk. Pack warmly. He’ll be taking a short journey north. When you’re finished, do find Sanderson and have him help you assist Lord Alexander to my carriage. Oh, and tell Miss Temple to pack some food in a basket.”
The man nodded and left the room without comment or question; either these types of requests came frequently, or Miss Hightower took the training of her servants seriously. She turned back to Harriet, still with a gleeful energy about her as ifshewere the one kidnapping a peer and riding into the night with his body. And as if the idea were a thrilling one.
“Now then,” Giuliana said, standing. “What doyouneed? I can’t imagine you want to stop at home before leaving. Time is not your friend tonight. I was not gifted with your … ample blessings …” Giuliana gestured to Harriet’s breasts, still overexposed in Philippa’s gown. “So I don’t have much to share. But a comb? Hairpins? Tooth powder? I don’t wear night rails, but I have a chemise or two that might fit.”
Harriet had never met someone who took care of things like she herself did—someone who was prepared, uncowed, ready for action. It was rather surreal to be on the other side of the equation. For the first time in her life, Harriet let herself relax into the feeling of being managed by someone else. She followed Giuliana upstairs like a little duckling, ignoring as best as possible what would inevitably come after she left the woman’s care.
Oncehewas her only company.
