Page 56 of Tempting Harriet
“He is splendid,” she said. “I am going to have one just like him when I grow up.”
“Are you?” he said. “All the young men will come flocking to see such a dashing horsewoman.”
But she was too young to be interested in the prospect. “Do the wolf again,” she said.
He tucked one arm about her as he guided his horse after the others with his free hand on the reins, and growled ferociously.
She laughed with delight. “Again,” she said.
“Actually,” he said, feeling anger bristle from every pore of Harriet’s body as she rode ahead of them, “I believewolves howl.” But he growled again into the little girl’sear. Freddie must have said something to amuse the baby.He was shrieking with laughter.
They rode for an hour. Harriet stayed ahead the whole time, talking determinedly first with Clara and then withFreddie. He had made a mistake, the duke thought again.He should have allowed her to take Susan, even though itwould have been awkward to do so when she was ridingsidesaddle.
By the time luncheon was finished the rain that had threatened all morning was coming down in a fine andgloomy drizzle. It was not a great atmosphere in which toforce the issue, the duke thought. He would have much preferred bright sunshine. But he could not put off the momentany longer. If he did, he might lose his nerve altogether. Orhe might feel obliged to leave. Now was the time. Later inthe afternoon they would be playing with the children againand taking tea with them.
But he could not find Harriet, though he wandered about the house and even tapped on her dressing-room door andpeered about the door of the nursery. Clara was in there,singing a lullaby to the baby, whose head was nestled onher shoulder, while the other two children were doingsomething at a table with the nurse. But there was no signof Harriet.
Freddie was in the library. “Ah, there you are,” he said when the duke appeared. “Do you fancy a game of billiards, Archie? It looks as if our spell of glorious weather isfinally over.”
“I am looking for Harriet,” the duke said.
“Are you?” Frederick said. “Harriet, Archie? Not Lady Wingham?”
“Have you seen her?” the duke asked.
“Yes, actually,” Frederick said.
The duke frowned. “Well?”
Frederick ran the fingers of one hand through his hair. “The thing is, Arch,” he said, “I have to ask you what yourintentions are.”
“What the devil are my intentions to you?’’ The duke’s frown had become thunderous.
“Clara will have my head if I allow you to harass her friend,” Frederick said. “Actually she would not be averseto my asking you to leave, old boy. For myself, I am Harriet’s host and owe her my protection.”
“Well, the devil,” the duke said. “You have grown damnably respectable, Freddie.”
“Guilty as charged,” his friend said. “The fact as I understand it, Arch, my boy, is that she gave you your walking papers sometime last week. I can’t have you propositioningher again on my property—or on Clara’s property, to bestrictly accurate.”
“Damn you, Freddie,” the duke said. “I am aiming for a leg shackle if it is any of your business. Where is she?”
Frederick grinned. “Under the circumstances,” he said, “Clara would kill me fornottelling you. Go to it, Arch. Areyou sure your grandmother won’t organize a firing squadwhen she finds out? Unclench those damned fists. Do youknow where the summerhouse is?”
“Yes,” the duke said.
“She was headed there,” Frederick said. “So that she would not accidentally run into you, Arch. So that shecould have some peace and quiet. Maybe she won’t mindbeing disturbed for a marriage offer, though.”
The door shut with a click before he had quite finishedthe last sentence. He chuckled and went upstairs to hiswife’s sitting room to await her return from the nursery.
The damp had not yet penetrated to the summerhouse. Or the chill, though she had brought a shawl with her and heldit about her shoulders now for comfort. The large glasswindows of the octagonal summerhouse seemed to havetrapped the heat of the sun for the last several weeks andhad not yet let it go.
She had brought a book with her, but it lay unopened on the bench beside her. She sat with closed eyes, her headback against the glass of one of the windows. The gloomand the drizzle were appropriate. They matched her mood.Susan was enjoying herself. She liked playing with Paul—most of the time—and she liked fussing over Kevin too.Freddie, who with his man’s energy was willing to playendless physical games, had become one of her favoritepeople. And someone else too since yesterday. Harriet swallowed. She hated him. If he had come by coincidence,he should have left as soon as he knew she was there too. Ifhe had come by design, he was despicable. Yet Susan likedhim.
She wished she could go back to just a week ago. A week and a day. Viscount Sotheby was a kind and courteous gentleman. He would have made a good father toSusan, and that was what Susan needed desperately. Sheneeded a father to give her a sense of total security. And hewould have made a good husband. He would have givencompanionship, affection, dependability—all those thingsshe had lost when Godfrey died and ached to have again.
“Godfrey.” She wiped away a tear with one hand.
Viscount Sotheby had said that he would remain one of her admirers, that perhaps at some future time he wouldrenew his offer. Perhaps if she went back to London now,he would renew it before the end of the Season. Perhaps hewould. But she let go of her plans before they could evenbegin to develop in her mind. She had been able to be agood wife to Godfrey even though she had never been ableto give him her whole heart, because she had had her honorto offer him. She no longer had that to offer any man.
