Page 20 of Tempting Harriet
He looked extremely handsome and elegant and rather haughty, she thought. And of course she was not the onlyperson who had noticed his late arrival. The Duke of Tenbyhad a way of attracting general attention wherever he went,though she did not believe he did so deliberately. Everyonewas marvelously interested in his apparent courtship ofLady Phyllis. Harriet heard talk about it wherever she went.He would be married to Lady Phyllis before September.
Harriet kept her eyes off the two of them and listened to the music. And yet all the while she was aware of her bodyas she had never been during her marriage except perhapsthe day after her wedding night. She was aware of a newtenderness in her breasts, caused by his hands and fingers,by his mouth and tongue, by the press of his chest againsthers. And of a slight stiffness in her legs, which had beenheld wide by his for long stretches of time. And of a soreness that was not exactly painful and a deep throbbing inthe passage he had occupied and worked for several minutes three separate times.
Her body would become accustomed to the new facts, she told herself. But she felt amazed that other people didnot look at her and see her for what she was. She feltnaked. Her hand strayed to her bosom to check that herlow-cut gown covered her decently enough. She felt like ascarlet woman.
Yes, she now knew what her conscience was going to do to her.
After the interval, during which she allowed Mr. Hardinge to fetch her a drink without relinquishing her seat,the chair beside Lady Phyllis remained empty. Obviouslythe Duke of Tenby was pursuing his courtship with his customary caution. Harriet let out a silent sigh of relief andprepared to enjoy the violinist Mr. Hardinge had heard inVienna. She also felt unreasonably bereft. He had not evencrossed the room to bid her a good evening.
Lord Bruce Ingram paused on the threshold of the Duke of Tenby’s breakfast room on Monday morning andgrinned.
“You are looking thoroughly out of sorts, Archie,” he said. “Might I be permitted to say ‘I told you so’? Youwould not come to Annette’s last night even though youdismissed Bridget a few weeks ago. Annette’s girls were infine form—at least Elsie was. Celibacy never did suit you.”
“Have a beefsteak,” the duke said, waving his friend to achair at the table. “I had one cooked for you, knowing youwere coming. Thoughcookedseems an inappropriate wordto describe the way you like it. I believe my chef showed itto the fire and set it on the plate. Behold it swimming in its own juice. It is revolting.”
“Ah.” Lord Bruce rubbed his hands together in appreciation as his grace’s butler placed the beefsteak before him. “My compliments to your chef, Archie. It is just the way Ilike it. I had better haul you off to Annette’s tonight. Thereis a new girl I want to try. And you are looking green about the gills. A sure sign of sexual deprivation, old chap.”
The duke dragged his eyes away from the plate with its almost raw beefsteak and scowled down at the small pile ofletters beside his plate. “I am coming under inspection,” hesaid.
“Not a comfortable feeling,” Lord Bruce said sympathetically, tucking into his breakfast, "especially when one is a duke and should be a law unto oneself. Your mother iscoming to town?”
“Worse,” the duke said gloomily. “Ten times worse.”
Lord Bruce grimaced. “The duchess?” he said.
“My grandmother, yes,” the duke said. “She is not coming to keep an eye on me and press forward my nuptials, of course. She is coming because Aunt Sophie has arrivedfrom Bath and has taken it into her head that she wants toenjoy the pleasures of town one more time before the everlasting silence descends.”
Lord Bruce tittered.
“The woman must be a hundred if she is a day,” the duke said. “I can remember going to Bath with family greetingson the occasion of her eightieth or ninetieth birthday—Iwas never sure which. And that was when I discoveredFreddie Sullivan about to get married. Six years ago. Thatmakes my great aunt eighty-six or ninety-six now. Mygrandmother is eighty, or will be in August. And they arecoming to enjoy the Season, Bruce. Here. They are going tobe staying here.”
Lord Bruce threw back his head and roared with laughter, a dripping cube of steak pierced by his fork halfway between the plate and his mouth.
“All the ladies will expire from envy when you drive them in the park, Arch,” he said. “This is going to be priceless. You must warn me when you are to take them therefirst. I would not miss it for a hundred of Annette’s girls.”
“As far as that is concerned,” the duke said rather haughtily, “it is no great joke, Bruce, if you would care to stopguffawing and dripping blood over my tablecloth. Ladiesdo not become figures of fun merely because they havegrown old; I am fond of my grandmother and would be ofAunt Sophie if she were not as deaf as a post but quite insistent on being involved in everyone’s conversation. No,what concerns me is that I am going to be a dead duck.”
“Better than being a live one, old boy,” Lord Brace saidwith a chuckle. “You would not enjoy quacking your waythrough the rest of your life. I thought you had steeled yourwill to wedding and bedding the delectable Lady Phyllis.She is rather delectable, Arch. I have taken a good look ather since you began to lay siege.”
“I hate being rushed,” the duke said, scowling again. “I hate having my hand forced. I know just how it will be. Assoon as my grandmother finds out which way the wind isblowing, there will be teas for the countess and Lady Phyllis and picnics with them and visits to the theater with themand doubtless a visit to Vauxhall with them. And while weare there, Grandmama will doubtless send the two of usdown the darkest alley and stand guard at the end of it untilthe girl has been thoroughly kissed and proposed to. I’ll bebetrothed before the month is out, Bruce.”
Lord Bruce shrugged. “You have my deepest commiserations, Arch,” he said. “But it is going to come sooner or later, is it not? It might as well be sooner, I suppose.”
“Not until Season’s end,” the duke said. “I want to be free at least until Season’s end.”
His friend looked at him with some interest. “Indeed?” he said. “You dark horse, Arch. You did not tell me thatyou have someone else on the mount already. No wonderyou would not come to Annette’s. Who is she?”
“No one,” the duke said hastily. “You misunderstood me, Bruce.”
But his friend was grinning at him. “And you fear the old girls will stop you from enjoying her?” he said. “PoorArchie. But they cannot demand your company twenty-fourhours a day, can they? Don’t old girls nod off with pleasingregularity? When do you, ah, exert yourself with her, Arch?Morning, afternoon, or night?”
“I told you you had misunderstood, Bruce,” the duke said, looking his friend sternly in the eye.
But Lord Bruce Ingram was not easily cowed. “If it is night, she is resident,” he said, gazing musingly up to theceiling, the last piece of steak waving on his fork. “If it isdaytime, she is not. Is she resident, Archie?”
“You are in danger of finding that fork embedded between your eyes,” the duke said quietly. “Have done, old fellow.”
“No, she would not be,” Lord Bruce said. “You would be all eagerness to share the news of your latest conquest ifshe were a courtesan. If she is not resident, of course, thenshe must be someone respectable. Someone of goodton.Amarried lady. Arch, Arch, you could be getting yourselfinto deep waters, old boy. Is she good? Who is she?”
