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William had never belittled her, not even by exclusion. He’d asked her opinion about everything and he’d listened. Papa always said he’d spoiled her, and perhaps he had, but it stood to reason that if William could acknowledge her intellect, others could as well. Even his boorish brother, despite his many faults, respected her intelligence—once he’d gotten over the shock of discovering it, of course.
Unbidden, a smile formed on her lips. The look on Manchester’s face when Nurse Hayes had unwittingly exposed her would live in her memory forever.
Inwardly, she sighed as her father and her prospective husband began to discuss matters at Parliament. Matters that, although she was very well informed about them, she dare not speak of now. No indeed, she knew her “place” and held her tongue, telling herself to be more like Cat. Marry first, then inform.
It was a wearying prospect. If only she could be herself! Would Russell ever be able to accept the real Harriett? She had to hope he would. She looked at him, quashing a twinge of annoyance. It didn’t help that he was so dramatic in his mannerisms.
She’d felt the same way two years ago when he’d vied for her favor. William, on the other hand, had been like a cool bath of calm reason and even temperament. He’d never once raised his voice above a stern, quietly issued command. He’d never bawled out poorly composed toasts to her beauty at parties. He’d never cried or clung to her in public or threatened to jump off a bridge. He’d never once embarrassed her in any way.
Russell had embarrassed her, and she greatly feared he would do so again. He seemed incapable of containing himself. Every emotion the man possessed was worn openly. She’d heard it said that his tirades in Parliament were quite something to behold. He’d incurred the king’s wrath with one such display, and had only recently managed to work his way back into their monarch’s good graces. He lacked the prudence and self-control necessary to be successful at court.
Manchester on the other hand would no doubt excel at politics—provided he ever took an interest and stayed sober, that is. Though not without emotions of his own, he’d proven quite capable of controlling himsel
f when he wished. She sighed. He had such potential for greatness and could be so successful if he would only apply himself…
“I should like for you all to come and visit me there one day,” said Russell, interrupting her thoughts.
Thoughts I ought not to be having. She struggled to focus on the conversation at hand, knowing she’d missed more than half of what he’d said to her.
“Woburn is so very lovely in the summer,” he continued, not seeming to have noticed her lack of attention. “When you come, I’d like you to tell me what improvements you think ought to be first on the list for Messires Holland and Flitcroft.”
“I would be delighted. Provided you approve, Papa,” she said, looking to her father.
“I think it an excellent idea,” he agreed, beaming.
“Then I shall send an invitation as soon as may be arranged,” said Russell, rising. “And now I fear I must leave you, as my mother is expecting me for dinner this evening. She will no doubt be pleased to hear my news.”
Harriett refrained from groaning aloud. I’ll just bet she will. She’d almost forgotten about the Dowager Duchess of Russell. The woman would no doubt question her son’s sanity for attempting to woo the same woman again after having once been refused.
“It has been a pleasure, Lord Dunhaven, Lady Harriett, Lady Catherine,” said Russell, bowing to each of them. “I look forward to calling again soon.”
The gaze he leveled at Harriett made her stomach tighten, but not with desire. His eyes had taken on the same moon-addled look they’d had two years ago. She allowed him to lift her hand to his lips, steeling herself to have to pull it back if he did not behave appropriately. His hand shook a little, but he released her almost at once.
It was a good sign. A very good sign. Perhaps this time things would be different after all.
Saying his final goodbyes, Russell left.
“Not bad,” Papa muttered as they watched him walk down to his carriage, his step jaunty and light. “Definitely worth considering, although he could be a bit less effusive.” He turned to her and smiled. “Reserve will come with age, I suppose.”
Harriett held her tongue. “I’m sure it will, Papa.”
“Keep working on him, Harriett,” he told her. “I expect he’ll come to ask for your hand soon enough, but keep working on him. He’s a good catch.”
He’s the only catch—so far. The thought was dismal. But that would soon change if all went according to plan.
As she and Cat made their way upstairs, her sister began to chuckle.
“What?” Harriett at last asked.
“Do you really want to marry him?”
“He’s a duke,” she answered, shrugging. “He’s interested. And I am rather short on options at the moment.”
“You’ll have to have that Fitzholland fellow build you a separate house just to have some place to escape your lord and master every now and then. Or, like Lady Brockhurst, simply refuse to leave London.”
“He’s not that bad. And it’s Flitcroft and Holland,” corrected Harriett, unable to keep from smiling. “Russell can be quite pleasant, you know. As long as he’s happy I shouldn’t have any problem getting on with him just fine.”
“And when he’s not?”
