Page 63 of Earl on the Run (The Duke's Estates 2)

Out of the question!

And yet it would resolve many problems.

Nonsense!

It even had certain attractions.

Never!

No other possibility presented itself.

She could pull it back later, an insinuating inner voice suggested, after she’d had time to think of another plan. With a bit of peace and quiet, for Mama as well, surely she would be able to do so.

Harriet remembered her mother, sleeping so sonorously. Dead to the world, people called it. The phrase made her shudder. Would it be a fact, if Mama went on as she was?

She rose, went to the writing desk, jotted down a few lines, sealed the note, and took it downstairs to be sent off.

***

Jack read the note from Miss Finch with surprise and a surge of hope, particularly because she’d asked him to meet her in the garden as they used to do in better days. He sent her messenger back with an enthusiastic acceptance and set off not long after the lad in his best borrowed garb. The path through the woodland seemed a familiar friend, though he had to keep one hand on his hat to prevent the wind from snatching it.

He found her, as promised, in the shrubbery of the Winstead Hall garden, on a bench they had used before. The thick, evergreen hedges cut off most of the blustery gusts and made the spot feel quite private. Jack bowed over her hand. “I was so glad to receive your summons.” She gestured an invitation, and he sat down beside her.

There was a short silence, broken only by the rustle of the branches above their heads. Jack wondered if he should remark on the weather or some other bland topic. He hoped she didn’t expect it, because sitting so close to her, within reach of the sort of embraces they’d more than once shared, had tied his tongue. She looked so very lovely. He longed for her. “I do apologize once again for deceiving you.” He hadn’t meant to emphasizeonce again. That happened on its own. But hehadapologized several times already.

Miss Finch’s lips tightened. Her green eyes flashed over him and then fell.

She’d noticed the emphasis. Of course. She noticed everything. Her ardent intelligence was one of the things he admired about her. Along with her beauty and her quicksilver emotions and her adventurous spirit. He thought of her whirling in the dance around the Travelers’ fire and ached for that happier time. “Did you ever think that it was for the best we met as we did?”

“What?”

“If I’d been introduced to you as the Earl of Ferrington and you to me as the distinguished Miss Harriet Finch, in some stuffy London house or even here, we would never have become…friends.”

“Friends,” she repeated as if the word surprised her.

“But we met as…only ourselves. With no stifling conventions coming between us. No families hanging about to cause difficulties.”

Did she turn a little pale? She seemed so subdued today.

Jack went on, hoping to rouse her, even in argument. Also, he was more and more pleased with his theory. “The idea of an earl seemed to repel you, but I’m not really an earl. Nothing in my life made me so.”

“Youarethe Earl of Ferrington,” she replied.

“In name, perhaps. But actually, I am Jack, the man you called a rogue.” He tried a smile.

“You are not a rogue either.”

“I can’t help but think that fortunate,” he teased. “You would not wish to meet a true rogue, I promise you.”

Once, she might have laughed at this or disagreed. Now she just sat with folded hands.

“Is something wrong? You summoned me.” Why had she done so?

“I wished to speak to you about a…delicate matter,” she said.

She sounded prim and stiff, not like the forthright girl Jack had gotten to know. He could endure reproaches over his conduct, even anger. This stuffiness was worrisome.

“I must suppose you know what it is,” she went on.

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