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A child?
There was that to consider, to be discussed between them. For had she not sworn to him, vehemently so, after the trying birth and disheartening day that she had no interest in ever having a child of her own?
“Adding to your kiss tally?” Harriet accused with a gleeful smile, not missing the glove exchange nor Anne’s swiftly rising blush. “I suspect what you just told me was a whisker. Three kisses? Harumph.”
“You told her?” Disbelief painted his tone.
“Of course not. Well, yes. No. I…” Anne floundered. How to answer when they had only, just barely, begun to speak freely with each other again?
Laughing, Harriet spoke up. “Yes, she did. That you had already met and already kissed. I remain mum tonight and tomorrow, and she answers all my questions at nightfall.”
“Harriet.” The groan vibrated through her chest.
“My.” The deep sound surprised. It was not the sort of innocent syllable she was used to hearing from him.
“Your… What?” Harriet questioned brightly. “You, Lord Redford—I suppose I shan’t begin calling you brother till after the wedding. You promised answers as well, but to prolong my good first impression, I shall endeavor to be patient.”
“Will you now?” he mused, already sounding suspicious.
As well he should. “She wants something.”
“I know.” His astute gaze met hers, then veered toward Harri. “You will exhibit the utmost of patience in exchange for…?” he prompted.
“Next Christmas—no goose upon the table.” Harriet answered so swiftly, Anne suspected she’d been waiting for the opportunity to bargain thus. “You promise no Christmas goose; I promise no patter-clatter.”
“Goose?” His gaze bounced between hers and her sister’s.
“Later,” Anne assured. “I shall explain.”
“Ah, later bodes well. All right.” He turned to Harriet. “No Christmas goose served at Redford Manor for Christmas 1812. That I can promise. As to your home—”
“I shall wager with Papa.”
“Very good. And, Harriet…”
“Mmm?”
“Are you able to distract our parents? The mothers, especially? Give your sister and me another…fifteen minutes?”
“Make it twenty.” Anne suggested not quite ready to forgive the tardy lord as quickly as she had her gamekeeper. Not quite ready to relinquish her time with him either.
“Certainly. I excel at distractions. But not in here.” Harriet grasped their hands and tugged, walking backward. “Ladies have matters to tend. Private ones. Take your bussing selves off to Papa’s study—across the hall. He’s in the card room with Mr. Gregory and some other fellows; your friends, I believe, Lord Redford. Be in the ballroom in just over a quarter hour, and I will pretend to search valiantly for you until then.”
At the closed door, she paused and looked at the pair of hands she held. “Merry Anne—and you, with your glove off? Tut-tut.” Harri mashed their bare hands together and placed one of hers on the doorknob. “And you say you have exchanged only three kisses? Papa will ride on an elephant before I believe that!”
With a snap of skirts and a whirl of exuberance, she was gone.
“Blazes.”
“Quite.”
“A handful, you said?” His grip tightened upon hers. “She’s a spitfire and then some.”
He eased past the threshold and glanced both directions before urging Anne toward the study, but not before he turned to give her a look. “I hope we have ten just like her.”
Ten Harriets?
Anne shuddered. The thought didn’t bear thinking; one incorrigible, mettlesome, clever hoyden in her life was quite enough.
