“Lucille!” Lord Holden admonished.
“Oh hush, you can see they’re perfectly respectable people. God-fearing, in love, and they like dogs, dear. No one can have a rotten soul if they like dogs. Clearly the rumors have been exaggerated.”
“Whoever conceals hatred with lying lips and spreads slander is a fool,” Harriet quoted, knowing that most rumors about her husband were true. In fact, perhaps the only false story Lady Holden had heard about him had come from her own mouth just moments ago. Though undoubtedly people had cited the Bible to justify worse.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Lady Holden said, as if gossip was suddenly beneath her. “It was lovely to make your acquaintance, Lady Alexander, I hope you get another doggy soon. That’s the only cure, really. Lawrence, I’m ready to go.”
With that, the couple stalked off. Alexander tugged Harriet along with him behind a large potted fern where they both dissolved into laughter.
“Doggy? Doggy!” Alexander repeated, in wonder. “I’ve never seen her like that. The woman positivelyloathesme, ordinarily.”
“I simply had to lie about every single thing about you.”
“Come now, that’s not fair. I miss Lexi acutely,” he deadpanned. Harriet let out a loud cackle of laughter and he clapped his hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.
Both of them jumped at the touch, as if struck by a thunderbolt. Alexander removed his hand slowly, but it was too late; Harriet’s entire body was ablaze. He broke eye contact first, clearing his throat and looking out at the crowd. It was a grounding reminder that they were in public.
“Is everything all right with your sister?” he asked.
Harriet’s heart began racing as she peeked around the potted plant to search the ball for Philippa’s chestnut hair, the mirror of her own. What the devil had she done now?
Alexander put a gentle hand on her arm, stilling her. “I saw you talking with her earlier and you seemed upset.” Harriet looked up, somewhat surprised to see genuine concern in his expression. She realized with a start that the surprise came entirely from her own experience of life andnotfrom her experience with him.
“She’s well enough, I think. Her estate …” Harriet wasn’t entirely sure if Alexander was supposed to know about the whole affair. Besides, that land had been her precious bargaining chip ingetting him to marry her. Was it something she might need in the future?
“Reverted to the crown, I heard.” He knew? How long had he known? “Please do offer her my support if she needs anything. You should invite her to dine with us sometime; the company would be good.”
“I’m sure she has plenty of plans. She’s always occupied with someone or other; she won’t be lonely.”
“I meant for you,” he said matter-of-factly. “You miss her.”
Unfortunately, at that moment, they were interrupted by the first notes of a waltz. Alexander cursed and then stepped away from her.
“Excuse me, I have to—I promised—I apologize. I’ll be right back.”
With that, Alexander left her again, only to end up back on the dance floor with another woman. This one was young and fresh-faced; she had the poise of a ballerina. Apparently, the man had no preferences whatsoever when it came to women.
“What kind of husband leaves his new wife all alone?” came an unfamiliar voice near her ear. So near that Harriet had to fight the unladylike urge to screech and jump away. Instead, she froze for a moment and then turned slowly to face an impeccably dressed older man. The dressing didn’t save his appearance. His face was florid and most of his hair had left his head, the rest being overworked in its absence. Worst of all, Harriet mused, was that his eyes were entirely blank. Her mind flashed to a cod dinner she’d had once, the way thefish stared up at her. Neither Harriet nor the man seemed to expect her to actually answer his opening salvo, so he simply began the conversation again.
“We haven’t been introduced—to Lord Stirling’s discredit. I figured a small break in propriety wouldn’t be undue; I’m the Duke of Belhaven.” Harriet could tell her father-in-law was put out by the fact she hadn’t recognized him. She bowed deeply and suggested it was an honor to make his acquaintance.
Harriet didn’t know much about the man other than that he was Alexander’s father. Alexander hadn’t mentioned him with any fondness, but Harriet had been trained well enough when it came to miserable fathers to turn her brightest personality on. Men loved it when you smiled up at them.
“I must say, I wasn’t apprised of my son’s intention to marry you,” the duke sneered. Harriet was shocked at his rudeness—although, with his fish-eyes, she shouldn’t have been. No one with that type of cold, blank expression ever turned out to be secretly friendly.
“I’m rather not the type of woman he usually goes for, am I?” Harriet demurred. And though she’d had the thought herself many times, she felt a sting of betrayal to share it with this man.
“Indeed, you are not,” the duke said, almost thoughtfully. As if it had just occurred to him. “I rather thought he might end up with someone more like”—he pretended to scan the room and then his gaze landed on Philippa, and her phalanx of fawning men—“your sister.” He cleared his throat in a grotesque way that gave Harriet the urge to clear her own, and then continued. “If he ended upwith someone at all, that is. He was so determined not to marry. He meant to anger me, which is why I suppose he chose you.” The duke cracked what, on a normal person, would be a friendly smile, but on him looked strained and snakelike. Harriet had thought herself somewhat immune to men’s ill-opinion of her, but his asperity was jarring.
Perhaps she had let her emotions show, because the duke continued: “I don’t mean to insult you—you’re quite clever, I concede. Howdoessuch a girl end up in line to be a duchess? You must admit it’s rather remarkable of you. A coup.”
“I assure you, Your Grace, I have no desire to be a duchess.”
He laughed, a brittle, unpleasant sound. “Oh, but you will! Not to fret, I’m not upset. Alexander has quite pigheaded ideas about what will anger me. Could he have made a better match? Perhaps. But with the proper tutors, we can shape you into an appropriate wife for him. You seem rather … malleable,” the duke hissed out, making it clear that he meant something entirely more insulting with the word. “Never fear, he has plenty of income; there will still be enough left over for a generous allowance.” He patted Harriet’s arm then, and she began to feel ill.
“Would you like to dance, Lady Alexander?” He once again employed his serpentine smile, not removing his hand from her arm. Never before had Harriet been so grateful for her inability to quadrille.
“I’m afraid I cannot dance, Your Grace, although I appreciate the invitation.”
