Page 45 of Tempting Harriet
Harriet sat with a bright smile on her face while Lady Sophia patted her hand.
The duke opened the dancing with Lady Phyllis and then danced with her mother. Harriet, seated beside LadySophia, kept her eyes away from him as she had done quitediligently for four days. She conversed with an elderly couple who had come to pay their respects to Lady Sophia. Butthen Viscount Sotheby was bowing over her hand and asking for the third set, a country dance.
“Lady Wingham,” he said when he had led her onto the floor, “I hesitated to accept my brother’s invitation into thecountry until I knew you were on his guest list. And yet Ifind your time has been almost totally monopolized, andmy sister-in-law has been determined to keep it that way. Ibelieve she is jealous of the fact that you are many timeslovelier than Phyllis, who was to be the focus of attentionduring these days.”
It was difficult to answer such words. Harriet chose to ignore the compliment. “It is only right that she should be,” she said. “Every woman deserves to be paid attention onthe occasion of her betrothal. It happens only once in life.”
“Except, perhaps,” he said, “when a woman is widowed young.”
Harriet was alerted by his tone. But the music began and the steps were intricate. There was no chance of furtherconversation. He was a distinguished-looking gentleman,she thought, and had been attentive in London during thepast few weeks. He was perhaps ten years her senior. A viscount in his own right, he was the heir to an earldom.Besensible, she told herself suddenly.Be sensible. He smiledat her as they came together after dancing a measure withother partners according to the pattern of the dance. Shesmiled back. But then they were separated again and shefound herself being twirled by the Duke of Tenby, his silver eyes watching her and jolting her into an awareness ofwhat she had determinedly ignored for the past four days.She had not realized that he and his partner were part of herset.
Be sensible, she told herself even more firmly when she and the viscount came together again. When he suggested astroll on the terrace after the set had finished, she smiledand agreed.
“Ah,” he said when they had stepped out through theopen French windows, “fresh air. And a terrace to ourselves. I hope you do not feel the need for a chaperone?”
“No, of course not, my lord,” she said. “Do I need one?”
He chuckled. “There is nothing like a betrothal to turnthe mind in the direction of romance, is there?” he said.“Though I would have to say that I have not always felt thatway.”
“I hope they will be happy together,” she said.
“Oh, Phyllis will be happy,” he said. “She has made the catch of the decade. He is a handsome devil too, is he not?”
“The Duke of Tenby?” she said. “Yes, indeed.”
He stopped walking when they had strolled along the terrace in one direction, and covered the hand she had rested on his sleeve. “May I kiss you?” he asked.
She looked up at him in some surprise.Be sensible, an inner voice told her quite distinctly. “Yes,” she whispered.
He kept his lips closed when he kissed, as Godfrey had always done. He pressed them warmly to her own and sethis hands lightly at her waist. It was an entirely unthreatening embrace. It was pleasant. She had that feeling of safetyshe had always had with Godfrey even though she wasalone with the viscount out-of-doors.
“Mm,” he said, lifting his head but keeping his hands at her waist. “As sweet as I expected. The rest of your sizablecourt of admirers in London would be green with envy ifthey knew I had you alone in the moonlight.”
“But I am sure you are a gentleman, my lord,” she said.
“If anyone could make a man forget his manners,” hesaid with a smile, “it is surely you, Lady Wingham. But Iassure you I mean honorably. Would you do me the greathonor of marrying me?”
She had suspected that it was coming. Even so, she was surprised when the words had actually been spoken. It hadbeen equally likely that he would have offered hercarteblanche. Be sensible,that inner voice warned. But althoughshe opened her mouth and drew breath, no words wouldcome.
“I have taken you by surprise?” he asked, releasing her waist in order to take one of her hands in both of his.
“Yes,” she said.
“Perhaps,” he said, “I speak too soon after your bereavement? Is this scene in poor taste? If so, I humbly beg your pardon, ma'am.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I loved my husband dearly, my lord, but I have done my grieving and life must continue. I have a daughter.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, “I remember hearing as much. I would still be honored to make you my wife.”
Say yes. Say yes. She could hardly do better. He was a man of rank and fortune and honor. He was willing to takeon her child. She had come to London in the hope of finding such a man. No, he went beyond her hopes.
“I have found myself quite enchanted with you,” he said. “With your beauty and your, your—” His free hand described a circle in the air. “What is it about you? Your innocence? Is that the right word? Whatever it is, youenchant me and make me eager to give up a bachelorhoodthat I have jealously guarded for thirty-nine years. Give mehope. Tell me you will think about my offer even if youcannot say yes now.”
Her innocence. Oh, God, her innocence. An image of the bedchamber in the duke's love nest and of herself nakedwith him on the bed there flashed unwillingly before hereyes.
“My lord,” she said, “I c-cannot. I am—I am unworthy of you.”
He possessed himself of her free hand and squeezed both of them. “Rumor has it,” he said, “that you were once companion to Freddie Sullivan's wife. And I suppose you areaware that I will be Barthorpe one day if I survive mybrother and that any son of mine almost certainly will. Thefact troubles you? It troubles me not at all, ma’am. Is thatyour only scruple?”
