Page 82 of Earl on the Run (The Duke's Estates 2)

Harriet’s two best friends focused their keenest gazes on her. There was no deceiving them. Harriet didn’t even want to. “It was Mama,” she said.

They looked skeptical, well aware of her mother’s gentleness.

And with that, the story of her mother’s trials and her grandfather’s meanness came pouring out. Every bit of it—the lost income, the threats, the laudanum, her rising anxiety, and her making the earl offer for her. “And so, I engaged myself to Lord Ferrington, and now everyone is happy,” she ended.

“Everyone,” said Sarah uncertainly.

“I don’t understand,” said Charlotte when she had finished. “Why should the earl give in to your urging?”

“We’d been alone so much,” Harriet murmured. “At the camp. Compromising.”

Her two friends gazed at her. It was very likely they saw more than Harriet wished.

“I’ve made a muddle of it. He had no thought of marriage. He is doing the honorable thing. I have to break it off before the first banns are called on Sunday. But then my grandfather will probably throw us out. And I fear Mama will break down completely.” Harriet bit her lip. She would also lose Jack the Rogue, which might be worse than all the rest.

Charlotte turned to Sarah. “Clearly we must get to work,” she said to her.

Sarah nodded. “The first thing is to meet this rogue person.”

“Lord Ferrington,” murmured Harriet. They ignored her.

“Undoubtedly,” said Charlotte. “We must examine him thoroughly, and then we will see.”

“Indeed,” replied Sarah.

“I don’t think—” began Harriet.

“There is no need for you to do so,” interrupted Charlotte. “We are here now.”

“You know we will take care of you,” said Sarah.

Harriet did, but this wasn’t some schoolgirl mishap, and she didn’t see what they could do.

***

Jack was glad to be invited to call at Winstead Hall. He’d begun to fear Harriet was avoiding him. The fact that he was to meet her visiting friends was a good sign. But also a challenge. The opinions of one’s friends could make a difference. “What if they take against me?” he asked the Duchess of Tereford as she approved the borrowed clothes he’d donned for the call.

“Why would they?”

“Lady Wilton said my manners were not fit for polite society. And presumably these young ladies are part of…”

“Iam an established member of thehaut ton,” interrupted the duchess. “And James—well, he is a nonpareil.”

Jack gazed at her. She looked back, as always the picture of blond perfection with the piercing eyes of a hunting hawk. Thehaut tonwas what the English called high society. They’d fought the French for years and yet, for some reason, they used their enemy’s language to describe elegance.

“Andwefind your manners perfectly acceptable,” added the duchess.

Indeed, he’d seen no sign of the contempt Lady Wilton had predicted. The Terefords hadn’t mocked him for his dress or his variable accent or a brief confusion over items of cutlery. And yet Lady Wilton’s rejection still rang louder in his consciousness than their cordial welcome. “You are unusual?” he suggested.

She smiled. “We are discerning and intelligent, with exquisite taste. You can rely on our judgment.”

“So Lady Wilton…”

“Is an antiquated relic.” There was a touch of impatience in her tone, as if she thought he should put this issue behind him.

Jack enjoyed hearing his great-grandmother criticized. He couldn’t help it after the way she’d treated him. But he wasn’t quite convinced. “Some probably agree with her, and these young ladies might be among them.”

“They are not. I am well acquainted with both of them, and they are clever and kind and curious.” She smiled again. “They like solving mysteries.”

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