Page 12 of Tempting Harriet
He clouded Harriet’s joy. Whenever he was in her sight—and he frequently was—she could concentrate on noone else. He was an extremely handsome man, of course,but it was not just that. There were other handsome men, afew of them even among what it amused Clive to call hercourt. He was attractive. He drew eyes wherever he went,not only hers. And it was not just his rank that caused himto be noticed, she felt. But of course she noticed him morethan anyone else. She had always loved him and still did.
She cried one night when she made the admission to herself. For if it was true, then she had loved him all during her marriage to Godfrey. But she dried her eyes determinedly. Her love for Lord Archibald Vinney had not diminished her feelings for Godfrey. It had been a differentkind of love she had felt for him, a deep and devoted affection, and she had always been true to it, even though shehad married him with a sore and despairing heart.
She was glad that the duke had accepted her tacit dismissal after their drive in the park. She had been disturbed by his open admission that he was going to choose a wifeof suitable rank within the next few months. An admissionhe had made while singling her out for attention and noteven trying to hide the admiration in his eyes. It had beenvery obvious what his interest in her was. If she was notwife material, then what was she? It was a rhetorical question, of course. And his actions had answered it even if shehad been obtuse enough to need an answer. He had kissedher mouth in a place where they might well have been seen,and caused a scandal.
Of course, she had lied to him. She really had come to town in the hope of finding herself another husband. Not inany cold-blooded way. She would never marry anyone justfor the sake of marrying or just because he was a rich man.She did not need riches. She had more than enough of herown. She would marry only for love. Or for deep affection,anyway. She had already proved to herself that affectionwas enough to make a successful marriage.
She did not know whether he had been serious in suggesting that perhaps she had come in search of a lover, of anaffaire de coeur.He had always delighted in teasing herand embarrassing her as much as possible. But suddenly,treacherously, his suggestion, combined with what Amandahad said about widows, had its attraction. Although hercheeks could grow hot at the very thought, she knew thatshe had felt stricken when he had reminded her that Godfrey had been gone for more than a year and she had realized with dreadful force how very much she did miss him.Him, yes. Andthattoo. She had not really expected it inher marriage and at first when she knew that it was to happen she had expected to have to endure it. But Godfrey hadalways worshiped her body, treating her in bed with gentleness and tenderness and respect. She had often wished thatit could happen more than its regular once a week. She hadliked it. It had made her feel cherished. Now she yearnedfor just once a week.
The idea that she could even be tempted by the thought of an affair alarmed her. And so she was very thankful thatthe Duke of Tenby had kept his distance since that afternoon. For she was not sure how she would react if he didnot. It was a shocking admission to make. What was evenmore shocking was the fact that she could not be sure thatshe was being honest with herself when she told herself thatshe was glad he did not come close. She was sure finally onthe evening of Lady Myder’s ball. Sure that she was notbeing honest with herself, that was.
Mr. Shaw had gone to fetch her a glass of lemonade and had got himself involved in a lengthy conversation with another gentleman over at the drink table. She was not desperate for the drink. Cool air would have felt even better.The Duke of Tenby had just finished his usual dance withLady Phyllis Reeder and Harriet had been denying to herself as usual that she was depressed and jealous. She didnot want him to see her standing alone. One could not verywell smile when alone, but she had made sure during thepast weeks that he had always seen her smiling and enjoying herself—without him. Although of course shehadbeenenjoying herself.
She wandered to the French windows and through them onto the balcony. And because that was crowded with couples, she went down the steep steps onto the small but verydark lawn. She leaned against a pillar of the balcony, closedher eyes, and drew in a breath of the deliciously cool air.
She could not see him clearly when he came down the steps a minute or so after her and stood silently in front ofher, looking at her—if he could see her. But she knew itwas he. Every nerve ending in her body told her that it washe.
It was a curious encounter. Neither of them spoke. They both stood still for an indeterminate length of time, andthen he leaned forward and downward until their mouthsmet. It was a warm, light embrace for a time until theirarms came about each other at the same moment and theirbodies fit against each other and their mouths opened. Reality intruded for Harriet only when his tongue, exploring herlips and the soft flesh behind, suddenly became more boldin its demands and pushed, hard and firm and deep into hermouth. She moaned her shock but arched further into him.
And then she was alone again against the pillar and he was standing silently before her again. Her eyes, more accustomed to the dark, could make out the outline of his features.
“This has to be settled, Harriet,” he said, his voice low, almost harsh, “this thing that is between us. Tomorrow.You will come driving with me? Not to the park. To Kew.Tomorrow afternoon?” The inflection of his voice suggested a question. But it was more a command than an invitation he was issuing.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He stood there a few moments longer and then turned and was gone.
This has to be settledthis thing that is between us.She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the pillar.She knew how it would be settled if it were settled on histerms.
And if it were settled on hers? What were her terms?
She did not know. But she was very frightened. And very excited. And strangely serene. Something that had beenstarted and never ended for her six years ago was to be settled tomorrow. And for him too. Obviously what had happened then—or not happened—had affected him deeplyalso, though she had not realized it at the time. It was goingto be settled tomorrow.
And yet if he offered and she refused again, nothing would have been settled after all, would it? If she refused.Would she? The very thought that perhaps she would notshould have terrified her but did not. It excited her. And—yes—terrified her too.
It was a long time before Harriet returned to the ballroom.
Chapter 5
If his valet had not had to wake him up when his shaving water was brought to his dressing room, the Duke of Tenbywould have sworn that he had not slept a wink all night. Hehad paced for hours, first in the library downstairs and thenin his bedchamber. Then he had lain down on his back, hisfingers laced behind his head, staring upward at the ornatecanopy of his bed.
He had known from earliest infancy that he would be a duke one day. During his boyhood he had known it evenmore fully. He had been eleven when his father died. Onlyhis grandfather’s life had stood between him and the title.He had been groomed by his grandfather, with whom heand his mother had been taken to live, and by his grandmother.
He had never rebelled. Not really, anyway. Not in essentials. He had always known what his duty was and had been ready to assume it whenever the time came. Not that he hadcraved it. He had been fond of his grandfather. It was truethat he had procrastinated about the performance of one ofhis primary duties. But his grandfather had not marrieduntil the age of thirty-four. His father had been thirty-six.So waiting until he was thirty-two had seemed no greatdereliction of duty despite the frequently expressed anxieties of his mother and grandmother.
He had not relished the thought of marriage. Not yet. But he had come up for the Season fully prepared to find himself a bride at last and a bride of whom his relatives couldbe proud. A Duke of Tenby had never married below therank of earl’s daughter. Most of them had done considerably better. His mother was herself a duke’s daughter.
He was not particularly fond of Lady Phyllis Reeder. But he felt no great aversion to her, either, and that was whatcounted. A man in his position could not expect to marryfor love. His parents’ and his grandparents’ marriages hadnot been love matches. He had taken all the right stepssince the beginning of the Season, singling her out regularly for attention while not making his attentions so particular as to lead to a rushed decision. He had by no meansreached a point from which he could not return, though hewas in no doubt that he had raised expectations in both thegirl’s family and in theton. It could be expected that in thecourse of time, probably before the Season ended, he wouldmake his offer and the betrothal would be announced. Thewedding would take place during the summer. She wouldbe rounding with his child by Christmas.
If only Harriet had not come, he had thought over and over again as he paced. She complicated everything. Shewas constantly in his thoughts, almost like a gnawingtoothache. And the sight of her almost wherever he wentwas a constant reminder that though he did not love LadyPhyllis, he did love another woman. He could not andwould not avoid the places where she might be. He hadtried very hard to be sensible, to treat her just like any otherattractive woman of his acquaintance. He deliberately hadnot avoided either meeting her or talking with her. Familiarity would breed indifference, he had persuaded himself.
But familiarity had bred only frustration and longing. He had settled with Bridget and sent her on her way, not just tobe fair to Lady Phyllis, as he had planned, but because hecould no longer bear the thought of going to her. SeeingHarriet became a torment to him. It was impossible toknow if she felt a like tension when she saw him. She wasalways surrounded by admiring escorts and was alwayssmiling and laughing. She appeared to be enjoying her Season with a carefree heart.
But then at Lady Myder’s ball temptation had presented itself and he had been quite unable to resist. Free of partners himself—he never danced more than one set in oneevening with Lady Phyllis and never lingered in her presence—he had watched what happened. Her partner had gone to fetch her a drink and had been detained by someone wanting to speak with him. She had stood alone, an unusual occurrence with Harriet. He had waited, trying to resist the urge to stroll across the room to her. He did notlike to be alone with her. And then she had looked at theFrench windows with obvious longing and had gonethrough them onto the balcony—alone.
He had gone after her to stroll there with her. It was not quite proper for a lady to go out of doors alone. But shewas not there. He knew she had not returned to the ballroom. She must have gone down the dark steps to the garden below. He went down after her. And there he had hadthe answer to one question that had been in his mind. Shehad been leaning against a pillar in the darkness, apparentlyenjoying the air. If she had felt nothing for him, none of thetensions he had been feeling for a number of weeks, shewould have said something, started some conversation. Instead she had stood still and quiet, waiting.
God, but he had not planned what followed. He had not gone out after her with even the hope of a stolen kiss on hismind. He had realized during that afternoon in Hyde Parkthefull danger of kissing her. If only she had said something or if only he had, what had happened would not havehappened. But it had. And what had happened had been farmore than a stolen kiss in a dark garden. Far more.
