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Prologue
Kent 1814
“HASTEN YOUR STEP, HARRY, before someone discovers us,” Louisa Drake said with a giggle.
Harry, Marquess of Langport, smiled as he trailed the chestnut-haired beauty. Walking into Lord Huntley’s study, he locked the door, giving them privacy as the rest of the party played along with Lady Huntley’s treasure hunt. While ladies and gentlemen were not encouraged to work together, many of the guests had joined up to win the unknown prize.
Thankfully, Louisa had been standing near him when the announcement of the treasure hunt was made, allowing him to claim her before any unmarried ladies tried to accompany him. Lady Huntley’s country parties were typically strictly orchestrated, but after days of rain, she seemed to be running out of ideas to entertain everyone.
“Did you lock us in?” Louisa asked, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief.
“I did.”
“You are terribly wicked, Harry.”
“Thank you.”
“And now we are finally alone,” Louisa said with a sigh as she collapsed onto the sofa. “It has been far too long.”
Harry walked to the corner table where decanters sat, waiting for the attention they deserved. He picked one and lifted the top, only to determine it was port—not a favorite of either of them. The next bottle was precisely what he was looking for. With one whiff, his nose filled with various scents from figs to spicy vanilla.
“Stop smelling and pour.”
Glancing back, he smiled. Louisa lounged with her feet stretched across the pale green sofa as if she lived here. His heart pounded. He wanted to see her in that exact position on his sofa in Northwood Park. After pouring two snifters of brandy, he handed her a glass and then lifted her lower limbs to sit on the opposite end of the sofa with her. Lowering her feet to his lap, he released a long sigh.
“Harry, you are a rascal.” She tried to move into a more lady-like position, but he held her ankles in place.
“Yes, I am. Don’t forget wicked.” His thumb rubbed against the delicate bone of her stocking-covered ankle. No one need tell him how inappropriate it was to have his hand on her limbs, but he’d tried so many times to make her understand how he felt. Perhaps this would help her see him as something other than a friend.
“Did you read the article I slipped under your door?”
Harry smiled down into his brandy. “Yes, I did. Not the usual type of note I receive from a lady.”
A low giggle erupted from her. “I don’t believe I want to know what kind of missives you normally receive under your bedchamber door. But wasn’t the article fascinating? The military believes they will have this little war with the United States over in no time at all now that we have finished with Napoleon.”
“It would be lovely to be at peace for a while,” Harry responded, wishing she had asked him more about the letters he normally received from ladies. If only to spark a bit of jealousy in her. But that wasn’t what she wanted from him. “I heard they have forces heading toward Washington and the fleet up the Chesapeake toward Baltimore.”
“The capital? Oh, my,” she replied before sipping her brandy.
Harry wondered, not for the first time, how she always steered the conversation toward some news of the day or invention. He wanted to discuss something far more serious than wars and innovations. “I happened to notice you dancing with Blakely last night.”
Her giggle raised gooseflesh on his arms.
“I did. I will give you threes guesses what he spoke of most of the dance.”
“Having never danced with Blakely, I cannot fathom a guess.”
Louisa laughed as she shook her head. “Horses.” She sipped her brandy. “It is all he ever speaks of with me.”
“Hmm.” While Louisa could ride a horse tolerably well, she had no real interest in the animals. “Does that mean, should he ever get the idea to propose, you would reject him?”
