Page 12 of The Duke of Scandal

Simon had become engaged in conversation with a gray-haired man in a military uniform. Harriet vaguely recognized him from hunts that Simon had hosted for the county gentry of Midwenshire but could not recall his name. She quietly slipped away, losing herself in the throng. As she moved through the crowd, exchanging smiles, nods, and polite pleasantries, she caught sight of Eleanor.

The young woman was hosting a court of entranced young men who smiled and postured around her.

Good for her and for Simon too. I am not in the least jealous that she finds it so easy. Not at all.

Harriet eventually found herself stepping free of the crowd at the end of the hall. This area was not lit by the chandeliers or the mirrors. Two suits of armor stood next to a grand staircase. Harriet stepped closer to one of them, drawn to its silent, hulking strength.

“My ancestor,” said a deep voice from behind her.

Harriet jumped. She had been lost in thought, staring into the visor of the armor’s helm, and imagining someone inside peering out. She turned, composing herself. Before her stood the most handsome man she had ever seen. A strong face framed by dark hair and eyes that were magnetic in their force of attraction.

“Your…ancestor?” Harriet repeated.

“Yes. Duke Ramsay Bolton wore both of these suits during his life. He fought alongside Henry Tudor and made the wealth of our family through his alliance. We were richly rewarded by Henry and other Tudor Kings.”

“Bolton?” Harriet asked. She was unable to tear her gaze away from those absorbing dark eyes.

“Forgive me. I am forgetting my manners. I am Edward Bolton. Welcome to Wrexham.”

He put out a hand and Harriet automatically placed hers within his. He bent low over it and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. For a moment he lingered there, fingers tightening imperceptibly. Harriet’s breath quickened at his touch.

“And you are?” he asked.

“Harriet,” she said finally, after a terrifying moment of complete blankness, as those dark eyes held her in their grasp.

“Harriet.” Edward smiled.

The sound of her name coming from his mouth felt like an intimacy that made her giddy.

This is the behavior of a foolish girl on her debut. I am a grown woman. Pull yourself together.

But those eyes and in such proximity were magnetic. She removed her hand from his, only realizing at that moment that he still held it in his own. Edward seemed to come to the same realization, starting as she withdrew her hand, clearing his throat and looking away at the suits of armor in question.

“If you are interested, I would be more than happy to show you some of the house. It is ancient and has many tales to tell.”

“Should I be monopolizing your time, Your Grace? All of these people are here for you,” Harriet replied.

Edward cast a look over the revelers who filled the rest of the room. Some cast envious looks at the young woman who was receiving a private audience with the Duke. He shrugged, then looked back at her, frowning.

“I was about to say that I do not care. But, that is not true, of course it isn’t. I have a duty as a host to my guests. But, you aroused my curiosity by removing yourself from the throng as you have. Is the music, food, and drink not to your liking?”

There was a light merriment in his voice that told her that he was not chiding her in any way. His eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement.

“It is all so simply beautiful,” Harriet said earnestly. “I just…well, I am not used to large crowds, Your Grace. I found it a little overwhelming and felt a need for some room to breathe.”

“I understand completely. I have done much the same. What part of the country do you hail from?”

“Midwenshire,” Harriet answered.

“Ah, a very rural, not to say wild part of England, is it not?” Edward said. “My father has some rather nice watercolors of Midwenshire by a painter from that very county. I’ve always been fond of them and wished to see the country that inspired them. Would you like to see?”

He gestured towards a doorway, leading away from the crowd and further into the house. Harriet’s heart raced at the prospect of spending time alone with this man, this handsome, charming man who, against all odds, seemed to have taken an interest in her.

What on earth is happening? Would he still be looking at me so, if Eleanor were standing next to me? Surely not. And yet he has forsaken every woman in the room in favor of me!

“I would love to. Perhaps I can recognize the place depicted and tell you something of it,” Harriet replied.

Edward beamed. It was a natural, easy, and boyish grin that Harriet found enticing. He offered her his arm and turned on his heel.

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