AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We have friends there,” she answered.
Who would make allowances for a clumsy earl, presumably. Jack nearly said as much but decided their prejudices didn’t matter.
“We can introduce you,” the duchess continued. “You will like…the Finches.”
And not Mr. Winstead, Jack concluded. He hadn’t expected to. But he had to pass the gateway of Harriet Finch’s grandfather to reach her. Once in the house, he would find a way to speak to her privately and mend the rift between them.
***
Harriet looked through the window of her mother’s private parlor at the lovely summer day. The morning sun poured rich, golden light over the garden. Dew still sparkled in shaded spots. Birds spread their wings and lifted their voices. Flowers created swaths of color and a symphony of scent. It was wrong to think life had lost its savor. Craven and silly and stupid. She didnotthink that. Her mother’s overspending and the reprehensible behavior of one deceitful man could not leach the joy from existence. Perish the thought!
“I believe I will finish this piece today,” said Harriet’s mother. She sat with her back to the window. A strip of embroidery lay over her knees, its colors echoing the bright outdoors. “You can read to me while I sew,” she added with a bright, brittle smile. “I know you don’t care for fancywork.”
As she was meant to, Harriet heard this as an order not to leave her mother alone for a moment. Mama’s spirits had not recovered. She left Harriet only to sleep, and last night she’d come into Harriet’s room in the small hours and stood over her, her candle dripping wax on the bed linens, her eyes wide and frightened. Startled and unnerved, Harriet had tried to comfort her, but words didn’t seem to reach Mama in the deep night. She’d had to escort her back to bed and sit with her for some time before Mama’s eyes closed.
They would walk together in the garden later, Harriet determined. She would insist. Exercise might clear some of the clouds from Mama’s brain. She had thought of sending for the doctor, but the suggestion had met with hysterical resistance. There was to be no hint of upset or illness in the household. Horace Winstead despised such weakness. He was not to know, not to hear…anything. Harriet sighed softly. The doctor would probably just prescribe a stronger dose of laudanum, and that did not seem advisable.
Her grandfather’s voice sounded in the corridor. Her mother’s head came up like a fox scenting a hunting pack. She crumpled her embroidery in spasmodic hands. The noise seemed to be approaching.
“Is he coming here? Why? He doesn’t come here in the morning. What have you done, Harriet?”
“Nothing, Mama. You know I have been with you.” But Harriet wondered if her grandfather had discovered her wanderings. She rose to go and intercept him.
Before she could, he entered, saying, “Here they are.” His tone was jovial, and Harriet could see the Duke and Duchess of Tereford behind him. Harriet stepped forward. Grandfather shouldn’t have brought callers here to this small chamber. He should have summoned Harriet and her mother to the drawing room. Indeed, she couldn’t understand why the servants hadn’t done so rather than involving the master of the house. But Grandfather went his own way, and he’d ignored this convention, or forgotten it. He was practically rubbing his hands together in glee over the noble visitors. Harriet prepared to greet them as they crowded in.
And then she saw the fourth member of their party, and the smile froze on her lips.
“Our new neighbor has arrived at last,” said her grandfather. “May I present my daughter, Mrs. Caroline Finch, and my granddaughter, Miss Harriet Finch. Harriet, Linny, the Earl of Ferrington.”
Jack the Rogue offered quite an elegant bow. His dark eyes met hers and held as if he would tell her something. As if she would listen!
His appearance was transformed. His dark hair had been cut in a fashionable style. His clothes were elegant. They must be borrowed. Harriet thought she’d seen the duke in a dark-blue coat with buttons very like that one. Didn’t he find this humiliating? Had he no shame whatsoever? No, he did not, she reminded herself.
In his new guise, he looked very like the young men she’d met during the season. Her heart sank. Their time in the Travelers’ camp faded. She dropped a small, cold curtsy.
“Papa,” twittered her mother. “So unusual…the drawing room.”
“Do sit down,” interrupted Harriet. If they were to be unconventional, then she would brazen it out. There were enough chairs. Just. She glimpsed the butler hovering in the corridor, looking distressed. She signaled for refreshments.
“A duke and an earl calling on me,” muttered her grandfather. His glee was obvious. “So, Lord Ferrington, are you settled in the neighborhood for the summer?” he asked.
“I expect so,” said Jack the…no, theearl. He was the sneaking, perfidious earl, and he was looking steadily at Harriet. How did he dare? Could he never behave properly? He was going to draw attention. Indeed, Cecelia had already noticed. She was clearly puzzled by Harriet’s manner and the fraught atmosphere.
“Good, good,” her grandfather said. His beady eyes sharpened. “You’re not married, are you?”
Harriet flushed and looked away.
“I am not,” he replied.
Grandfather’s gaze shifted from the newcomer to Harriet and back again. The idea taking root in his brain was so obvious that he might have been shouting it. Harriet longed to drag him from the room and shut him away until their guests were gone. Or longer.
“Such lovely weather we’re having,” said Cecelia.
Her husband gave her a sidelong glance. Harriet watched silent communications pass between them, as she’d seen before. “Positively balmy,” he replied.
“There is nothing like a fine day in the country.”
“To be sure.” The duke’s deep-blue eyes glinted. “Except perhaps a sunny morning by the sea. In Brighton, say. On the promenade, with all the fashionable world to observe.”
