Page 53 of Tempting Harriet
“Oh, oh,” Frederick said.
“You have produced a little blond and I did not know of it, Freddie?” the duke asked, reaching for his quizzing glassas he walked toward the children with his friend.
And then the little girl turned, a look of abject misery on her face, and gazed up imploringly at Freddie. “I can’t hitit,” she wailed. “It’s no good. I can’t hit it.”
Large green eyes. Rumpled golden-blond curls. A perfect little miniature of Harriet. Oh, God. The duke released hishold on the handle of his quizzing glass as Freddie stoopeddown on his haunches and ruffled the child’s hair with onehand. He suddenly felt a million miles away from Harriet.He had thought he knew her. He had thought so when hehad known nothing about a central—surelythecentral— fact of her life. Her marriage had been fruitful. She had thislittle child to give love and meaning to her life.
And then he saw from the corner of one eye that Freddie and these two children had not come out of doors alone. He turned to watch Clara Sullivan approach acrossthe lawn with Harriet, Freddie’s baby toddling along between them, holding to a hand of each. His heart feltrather as if it were trying to pound its way right out of hischest. He bowed to both ladies and took Clara’s hand toraise to his lips.
“I have come to impose upon your hospitality for a day or two, ma’am,” he said. “If you will have me.”
“If we will have you,” she said. “How foolish, your grace, when Freddie is forever inviting you here. You knowHarriet, Lady Wingham, of course.”
He looked into her eyes for the first time. “How are you, ma’am?” he asked. “You have a beautiful daughter. I didnot know of her existence.”
“It would be easy not to,” Clara said, “when one is in London and attending the activities of the Season. Childrentend to become confined to the nursery.”
“I always spent the mornings with Susan,” Harriet said quietly, “And an hour or more of the evenings. My daughter is more important than anyone else in my life.” Her facewas pale, her eyes and her voice defiant.
Their attention was distracted. Freddie was still murmuring comforting things to Susan and coaxing her to take the bat in her hands again. His son had other ideas.
“You take the bat, Papa,” he said. “It’s fun when you bat. Sendherinside to play with Kevin. She’s just a girl. Girlsare a nuisance and don’t know anything.”
“Oh,” Clara said as the duke reached for his quizzing glass again.
“I’ll take her for a walk,” Harriet said quickly. “I am quite sure she really is spoiling the game.”
Frederick had stood up. “Paul, my lad,” he said, beckoning with one finger, “you and I are going to take a little stroll together into the house before coming back to play—with Susan. Come along.” He reached out a hand, which his son took, looking considerably subdued.
Harriet was upset “What is he going to do?” she asked.
“Give Paul a spanking,” Clara said. “My heart bleeds a little every time it has to happen, but I no longer try to stopit as I did at first. Freddie gives our boys tons of love, butthey must learn not to be brats. No, Harriet you must notfeel responsible. Even my palm itched at that dreadful discourtesy. My son will not talk about other children in thatway—even at the age of five.”
The duke strolled toward the little girl, who was disconsolately scuffing the grass with one soiled shoe. “The bat won’t seem to hit the ball?” he asked.
“No. It’s a silly game anyway,” she said. “I don’t like it.”
“What I always found,” he said, “was that I had to stop thinking of the wickets behind my bat as simply pieces ofwood.”
She darted a look up at him with green eyes that seemed very familiar. “But theyarewood,” she said. “Look. Andthey keep falling down.”
He went down on his haunches before her. Before the child Harriet had borne. The child she loved more than anyone else in life. Susan. “Name someone you love,” he said.
She looked at him curiously. “Mama,” she said.
“Good,” he said. “Now someone else.”
She thought. “My new doll,” she said. “The one Aunt Amanda and Uncle Clive gave me.”
“And one more,” he said.
She thought for a while longer. “Uncle Freddie,” she said.
“Splendid.” He turned her, his hands on the tiny, fragile little waist, and indicated the wickets. “The middle one isMama. The one on this side is your doll and the one on theother side is Uncle Freddie.”
She giggled.
“Your job,” he said, “is to protect them with your bat so that they do not get hurt and fall over. It used to work wonderfully for me. My mama and my grandmama and my dograrely got hurt. I protected them.”
