Page 41 of Tempting Harriet
“One thing, Tenby,” his grandmother said, stopping him as his hand was on the handle of the door to open it. “Nothing is to mar the business of these next days. Nothing. Sophie has her companion. They may be safely left to amusethemselves.”
He inclined his head.
“If you feel the need for greater beauty than you will be getting in a wife,” she said, “or for greater—pleasure, thenyou may seek them out after your marriage, as all men do.Your intended wife is a woman of good breeding and willturn a blind eye. But these days are to be strictly for business.”
Poor Grandmama. He had seen her with new eyes since his brief talk with his aunt. She had once given up love andhad made an armor and a shield of duty ever since. She hadshielded herself from the humiliation of knowing that hisgrandfather kept mistresses.
The duke removed his hand from the doorknob and set it over hers. “Grandmama,” he said with unaccustomed gentleness, “soon I will present you with a granddaughter-in-law of whom you may be proud. By this time next year, if it is within my power, you will be able to hold my heir or my daughter in your arms. I’ll not let you down.”
“Certainly not a daughter, Tenby,” she said firmly. “You know my views on that.”
He bent his head and kissed her cheek before opening the door and escorting her from the room.
Harriet felt awkward. It had been made very obvious by the condescension with which she had been greeted on herarrival the day before and by the smallness of her bedchamber and its position overlooking the kitchen gardens at theback of the house that she had been invited solely for LadySophia’s sake. It was true that Viscount Sotheby had beenattentive to her, seating himself beside her at dinner, but almost all her attention had been taken by Lady Sophia onher other side. And the very young and shy Mr. Horn hadtried to engage her in conversation in the drawing room afterward but had been driven away by Lady Sophia’s insistence that he repeat everything he said. The poor boy hadbeen almost stammering by the time he had wandered awayto stand behind Lady Phyllis, who had been playing the pianoforte.
Harriet had not minded the evening before. But this morning Lady Sophia was still in bed and everyone elsehad plans for the morning. The duke and the Earl ofBarthorpe disappeared from the breakfast room early, and itwas obvious from the dignified look of triumph on theduchess’s face and the arch comments of the countess’swhy they had disappeared together. Lady Phyllis, Harrietsaw, was picking at the food on her plate with downcasteyes. The duchess, the countess, Lady Mingay, and LadyPhyllis were to pay some morning calls on neighbors.
“What a pity,” the countess said with a smile, “that there will be no room in the carriage for you, Lady Wingham.But I daresay you would prefer to be here when LadySophia wakes up anyway.”
“Yes, indeed, ma’am.” Harriet smiled back.
“Perhaps, Lady Wingham,” Viscount Sotheby suggested, “you would honor young Peter and me by joining us for aride.”
“I am quite sure, Marvin,” the countess said, “that Lady Wingham did not come prepared to ride. She may makefree with the morning room. There are a few books in thereand paper and ink and pens for the writing of letters. LadySophia will expect her to be on hand when she rises fromher bed.”
The viscount smiled ruefully at Harriet and shrugged. She was being very effectively put in her place, she realized. The countess was coming as close as good mannerswould allow to treating her as a servant. Harriet wonderedif the woman had been offended at the fact that the dukehad danced with her at his dinner the week before. Perhapsshe even remembered that at Lady Avingleigh’s ball, whenthe duke had made his first appearance in a ballroom for along time, it was with Harriet he had danced first.
The countess, Harriet guessed, must have been very annoyed with her husband for inviting her into the country to what was otherwise a gathering for the two families aboutto be linked by marriage. She escaped from the breakfastroom to her bedchamber, intending to stay there for awhile. She was missing Susan dreadfully. She should neverhave agreed to leave her for almost five days just becauseLady Sophia had sounded pathetically in need of her company. Susan would love the open spaces of this park, shethought with an ache of the heart as she gazed out acrossthe kitchen gardens to the tree-dotted lawns beyond.
She felt foolishly like crying. She really ought not to have come. Especially not at this particular time. Archiewas downstairs with the earl. She felt little doubt that theywere discussing a marriage contract. It was madness for herto have come.
And then she remembered the children. Three of them. She had caught only a glimpse of them the day before, butshe had asked Lady Mingay about them. There were twogirls and a boy. The youngest girl was five years old—onlya little older than Susan. She wondered if the children’snurse would consider her appearance in the nursery an intrusion, but decided that she would risk it anyway. Sheneed not stay long. But just seeing some children mightcheer her up.
The children’s nurse did not appear at all sorry to see her. She was shrieking at them when Harriet tapped on the doorand was blowing a painfully reddened nose when Harrietopened it. She looked ill and exasperated. The youngestchild was wailing, the older girl was loudly scolding, andthe boy was wagging his tongue and also his fingers fromhis ears into which he had stuck his thumbs.
“Oh, my lady,” the nurse said.
“Goodness,” Harriet said, but the commotion ended as the children looked at her with curiosity and interest. “Youhave a cold?”
“Oh, my lady,” the nurse said, “and I ache all over. You would think they would have pity, but they are naughtychildren. Just wait until I tell Lady Mingay.”
The little boy started dancing and wagging his fingers again. The older girl informed him that his father wouldgive him the cane when he knew.
“Goodness,” Harriet said again. “Such energy. But you are all using it so well that I daresay you do not wish to gooutdoors. It is a shame. It is such a lovely day out there andI am going out.”
There was an immediate hush, broken by the loud blowing of the nurse’s nose. “They are not allowed outside in the morning, my lady,” she said,
“Their nurse is ill this morning,” Harriet said briskly, “and must return to bed with a hot drink. It is not a morningfor rules. Of course, the children do not have enough energy left to go outside. I shall send up one of the footmen towatch after them. The one with thick black eyebrows thatmeet over his nose, I believe. The one who frowns all thetime. The one with arms like tree trunks.” She turned toward the door, but was stopped by a chorus of voices.
Five minutes later three wild and whooping children were racing across the back lawn while Harriet walkedbriskly after them. The nurse, amidst halfhearted protests,had retreated to her bed. They were not easy charges, Harriet discovered during the next hour. Neither eight-year-oldGeorge nor ten-year-old Sarah wanted to play with littleLaura, with the result that the child frequently opened hermouth wide and wailed in angry misery. Neither were theyparticularly eager to play with each other, the trouble beingthat everything George suggested was forbidden and drewscolds and threats from Sarah. It seemed the children werenot allowed to climb trees or sit down on the grass or gettheir hands dirty or even run. The two of them finally settled to throwing a ball back and forth to each other, thoughGeorge was contemptuous and called Sarah a stupid girlbecause she could not throw a ball properly.
Harriet missed Susan more than ever. But the little one at least became thoroughly happy when she discovered aplaymate in Harriet herself. Harriet allowed the child to runtoward her, despite Sarah’s protests, and then swung her upand around in circles. The little girl was soon flushed andgiggling. She wrapped her arms about Harriet’s neck afterthe dozenth repetition of the game had made them bothdizzy and breathless.
“I wish you would play with us all the time,” she said.
Harriet laughed and hugged her.
“Charming,” an aristocratic and familiar voice said, and Harriet turned to find herself being surveyed through thequizzing glass of the Duke of Tenby. “And considerably disheveled.”
