Page 29 of Tempting Harriet
“We need one more lady,” his grandmother said. “I did not know if you would prefer Lady Trevor, Lady Howden,or Lady Pryde, Tenby. I waited to consult you.”
“Eh?” Lady Sophia demanded.
The duchess repeated her words.
“Is my dear Lady Wingham on that list, Archibald?” the old lady roared. “I told Sadie to put her there, but I do notknow if she heard me. Sometimes I think Sadie must begoing deaf.” She rumbled.
The duke forced his fingers not to tighten on the paper.
“Her name is not here, Aunt,” he said.
“Put it down, then, dear Archibald,” she said. “And seat her next to me at dinner. She is the only person willing tospeak loudly enough for me to hear. I would swear everyone else talks nothing but secrets all day long that theymust whisper so.”
“I believe, Sophie,” the duchess yelled, “that Lady Wingham might feel out of place in such company. Perhaps you could invite her to tea again one day next week.”
“You know I do not like to be difficult, Sadie,” Lady Sophia said. “I am the most agreeable of persons, am I not,Archibald? You need not answer, dear boy. But I will notsit through that dinner unless I have my little pet beside me.I have never forgiven Wingham for marrying the gel. I wasgoing to take her for my companion after her mother died.But there, he was good to her, so I must forgive him afterall. Put her name on the list, Archibald.”
“Well, Tenby?” The duchess looked at him steadily. “You have no objection to Lady Wingham as a guest?”
“None at all, Grandmama,” he said. “She seems genuinely fond of Aunt Sophie.”
“Eh?” his aunt asked.
He left his grandmother to repeat his words while he crossed the room to the desk and dipped a quill pen in theinkwell in order to add the name that would give even numbers to his guest list. For Monday evening.
He stayed at the desk rather longer than was necessary, his eyes reading the list, pausing at Lady Phyllis’s name,Lady Leila’s, Harriet’s. He was feeling utterly wretched.Under normal circumstances he would have dined privatelyin his own apartments tonight or, more probably, at one ofhis clubs. He would have sat and brooded afterward or, if atthe club, he would have found a noisy group of friends withwhom to carouse. He would have sought out a lively gameof cards. Perhaps he would even have persuaded Bruce orsome other friend to go to Annette’s with him. No. No, he would not have done that. But something like that. Instead of which, he was going to have to cross the room again soon and entertain his grandmother and his aunt for at leastanother hour before they retired to bed.
He wanted only to brood on what he had done.
He had made love to her. He had understood her need for tenderness as reassurance against the humiliation of histreatment of her—unpardonably, he had made her feel likea whore. And because he loved her, or perhaps because he had a conscience, he had decided to give her tenderness. Except that he had been unable to divorce tenderness fromlove and had given her love, though he had not called it thatand she had doubtless not recognized it as that.
God! All his defenses had come crashing down and he had made love to her. Something he had never done beforewith anyone and something that had frankly terrified him. Itwas not that he had lost control of himself. He had hadmore control than perhaps ever before. Every move, everytouch during what had remained of their hour and a halfafter they had finished quarreling, had been devoted tomaking her enjoy the bedding on her terms, not as a physical performance, but as an encounter between two personswith somewhat tender feelings for each other. He had keptan iron control over his body and yet had lost it completelyover his emotions. Every move, every touch, had beengiven with love.
He did not know if he would ever again be capable of coupling with a woman without the extra dimension thatmade all the difference. He had understood in a flash whythe act was called making love. He did not know how hewould be able to give her up at the end of July. Would it bepossible, he wondered, to persuade her to remain as hismistress even after his marriage during the summer? Hedoubted it. He very much doubted it. He had been surprised, even a little disappointed at first, to discover thatshe was willing to give him her virtue. He was quite sure,though, that she would be unwilling to be involved in anadulterous relationship.
And so the future yawned frightening and empty.
“You are satisfied with the guest list, Tenby?” He had not heard his grandmother come up behind him. She resteda hand on his shoulder.
“Yes, Grandmama,” he said. “I need not ask if you have the invitations ready to go out tomorrow, I suppose? Ofcourse you have them ready.”
“Of course,” she said. “You did not mind giving in to Sophie’s whim?”
“About Lady Wingham?” he said. “No, of course not. Why should I?”
“I just hope you are not too pleased,” she said. “She is an unusually lovely woman. And she has a freshness and acharm that are beyond the ordinary.”
“Yes.” he said.
“I could not fail to notice yesterday,” she said, “that you were taken with her, Tenby.”
“I?” He chuckled. “I am always taken with a lovely face, Grandmama. And half of London is taken with this particular one. You must have noticed in the park how large hercourt is.”
“Yes, dear,” she said. “But sometimes a man’s pride is challenged by such a fact. We shall consider her to be Sophie’s companion on Monday evening, shall we?”
“I doubt if Aunt Sophie would leave us any choice evenif we decided otherwise,” he said.
His grandmother patted his shoulder. “Come back to the fire,” she said, “or she will be thinking we are whisperingsecrets again. I expect great things of you before the summer is out, Tenby, and an heir on his way into this world byChristmas. You will not let me down, I know. You neverdo. Your grandfather trained you well.”
