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“What’s this?” he asked, smiling. “My ears are all afire.”
“We were just discussing your recent acts of beneficence,” said Sandwich. “Is it possible you’ve at long last begun the process of reformation?”
“I shall leave that for others to decide,” said Manchester. His cool gaze lingered on her, and her heart began to beat faster. “The lady has likely made much of little.”
“Not at all, Your Grace,” she interjected. “I was simply stating the facts concerning your part in the current renovations.”
“Shame on you, Lady Harriett,” he chided. “You ought to be enjoying yourself, not talking of such sober matters during a time of revelry.” He turned back to Sandwich. “It’s been what, some two years since your return from the tour?” he said, changing the subject. “Your letters from Egypt were so very intriguing, but they left me curious. I wish I’d come to see you sooner. When you have time, you must visit and tell me all about your travels.”
He returned just after William died, thought Harriett. Manchester would have been in deep mourning, though Sandwich seemed not to remember it.
“Ah, yes!” said Sandwich with enthusiasm. “The temples of Greece, the palaces of Turkey, and the vast monuments of Egypt—all of them far more fascinating than can be described in any fusty old book, though I have considered writing on the subjects myself now I’ve seen them in person. I hope to go back and revisit them one day.” His voice grew wistful. “Once such places enter the soul of a man, they never truly leave.”
Harriett knew it would never happen. He had married Dorothy at the beginning of March and had many obligations to fulfill, not the least of which was getting an heir—which had thus far proven somewhat problematic. Dorothy had confided in her during lunch that her new husband was distinctly lacking in romance when it came to their marriage bed.
She eyed Sandwich with doubt. For a man rumored to be a member of the Hellfire Club and who openly kept none other than the infamous Fanny Murray for a mistress, such news was a surprise. Harriett prayed the cheerful degenerate didn’t give Dorothy the pox.
Her opinion of her host stayed well hidden, however, as she politely reinserted herself into the conversation. “My lord, I wonder that you have not written a dozen books by now, having seen such inspiring sights. I, who am likely never to leave England’s shores, would certainly delight in reading such exotic tales.”
Sandwich’s cheeks rounded and pinked at her flattery. “Perhaps I shall pen them, at that,” he murmured, his interest in her renewed. “One doesn’t often think of ladies as being adventurous, but you have a heart for it, I can tell.”
Meeting his gaze, she held it, giving him her most alluring smile. “I am far more adventurous than many might suppose.” She flicked a glance at Manchester. “Indeed, had I been born a man, I should have done a great many things forbidden to women.”
“Oho!” said Sandwich, his smile broadening to a grin as he bowed low before her. “Rebellion boils within your breast—a woman after my own heart! Let not your sex keep you from your desires, dear lady. There are women who pursue their dreams, who travel the world and follow the will o’ the wisp. It takes courage to do such things, courage that I deem you have in great abundance.”
It also takes a great deal of money. She bit her tongue and cast down her gaze. “Such encouragement invigorates me, my lord. Perhaps one day I shall follow my heart and see where it leads.”
“No doubt a great heart like yours will take you to some far horizon on the other side of the world,” he said, taking up one of her hands and kissing it. “Just be sure to come back and tell me of your adventures.” He released her. “Now I believe I hear the beginnings of a—”
“Lady Harriett, would you honor me with this dance?” cut in Manchester.
Harriett, shocked at his rudeness, glanced at Sandwich, expecting to see a frown of displeasure on his face. Instead, she saw gleeful speculation. She swallowed and turned back to Manchester. “I would be delighted, Your Grace.”
Without waiting, he swiftly appropriated her arm and led her away.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she hissed as he assumed the opening position.
“Doing what? Dancing with you?”
“Don’t mock me!”
“I? Mock you? I would never mock a lady. And a lady is what you are, no matter how you just tried to convince Sandwich otherwise.”
“I did no such thing!”
“You were flirting with him.”
“I was being polite to our host, which is more than I can say for you, his supposed friend.”
“You were being coy and inviting. Beware, for John is not a man for any woman to encourage—he has no morals or inhibitions to keep him from pursuing what he desires.”
“And you do?”
He stared down at her. “I have restrained myself a good deal more of late than I have in the whole of my life prior to meeting you.”
It was a moment before she remembered to breathe. “False flattery will get you nowhere, Your Grace. I know your opinion of me.”
“Is it false?” he asked, something flaring to life in his whiskey eyes. “If that is what you think, then allow me to prove to you otherwise.”
