Page 12 of The Marquess and the Maiden

He crossed one arm over his chest and braced it on his other arm. “How is it that you know so much of what I do with my money? And why does it matter to you?”

“It is ostentatious, not to mention obnoxious. There are so many in the world who have nothing. For those of us who have been blessed with much, it is our duty, nay, responsibility, to share with those less fortunate.”

He tapped his cane on the ground lightly a few times, in essence applauding her. “Well done, Lady Harriet. Tell me, is that a rehearsed speech you give to all of the wealthy lords in town?”

Her eyes narrowed into a glare. “No. As best I can tell you are the only lord in town who wastes his money so flagrantly. Not to mention you are continually accruing more and more funds. When will it ever be enough?”

Insatiable. She wasn’t wrong. Her anger caused her breathing to speed up, which in turn made her bosom heave quite provocatively. Pink stained her cheeks and throat, and her rosebud lips parted in exasperation.

Her last question echoed through him. It would never be enough, he knew that. But there was no reason to inform her of that fact. His father had depleted their funds, had sold off two of the properties that had been in their family for generations, all to pay his damned gambling debts. His mother had had to wear old faded gowns that her friends had given her after they’d worn them for a season. Harriet’s mother being the most generous of them.

Harriet had never lacked for anything in her life. She did not know what it was like to wonder if there was enough money to pay for food, let alone new clothing or servants. She couldn’t possibly understand.

Besides, there were still a few remaining wrongs of his father’s that he had yet to right. “There must be something else you want from me.”

“Then you refuse to stop spending money on ridiculous luxuries?”

“I do.” He couldn’t deny that her righteous indignation was charming, not to mention entertaining. Or perhaps he’d stayed away from Society so long he’d forgotten how civilized interactions could be. He nearly laughed at that. No, this fascination was for her alone. The thought should have sent him bolting from the room. Yet, he found himself waiting for the next words that would pass from her beautiful mouth.

Her eyes narrowed in focus.

He’d offer something specific, but he doubted any of his skills would come to her aid. Unless she needed a room redesigned or something designed and built. But she lived in her brother’s townhome and his future wife would make such decisions.

“It would seem, my lord, that we are at an impasse. Do let me know if you change your mind.” She curtsied. “Good evening.” Then she strode away, leaving him to do nothing but watch her backside sway beneath the layers of her purple gown.

…

Harriet walked idly next to Agnes, along with two other members of the Ladies of Virtue, Justine and Matilda. The Crystal Palace had been open for nearly two months, and there had been a slight uptick in petty thievery. So the four of them were here to watch and see if they could catch any of the thieves in the process.

She had been here once before, the week it opened, and she’d been desperate to return. Trying to discover any would-be criminals here might prove an act in futility for her, as there was simply too much of interest to look upon. The building alone, all glass and iron, was mesmerizing and stunning.

Justine and Tilly made their way to the back of the palace to observe the displays there. A divide and conquer plan, Harriet supposed.

The Crystal Palace boasted so many exhibits and antiquities, it was difficult to know where to look first. Everything was divided up into “courts” and featured elements from different cultures and times in history. Harriet was fond of the Greek court as well as the Roman court, but everything was thrilling to look upon. Unfortunately, today she was here to work, and could not spend as much time devoted to exploring the varying types of architecture and art.

She caught sight of a familiar figure across the nave, and her heart stuttered. It had been more than a week since she’d last seen Lord Davenport, a week since he’d asked her to find him a wife, all the while seeming to flirt with her. A week since he had complimented her figure, even though she knew very well from their encounter years ago that he found her unappealing. Whatever had he meant by acting that way? The entire ordeal had been maddening.

She’d scarcely thought of anything else in the time between. The way his eyes had scorched over her skin, how he’d mentioned her curves. Even now, the memory of those words warmed her from the inside. He was here, standing not too far away from her. Thankfully, though, he hadn’t seen her yet.

She grabbed onto Agnes’s arm and pulled her inside one of the displays.

“Harriet,” Agnes said. “I was watching someone.”

“I want to look at this display.” But instead she peeked in between the shelves to see if the tall, imposing figure of Lord Davenport was still there. Thankfully he had moved elsewhere. She sagged in relief, turned swiftly, and fell straight into a hard wall of black wool. A large hand came up to grip her elbow and hold her steady.

“Lady Harriet,” he said, amusement etched in his voice.

She looked up at him, willing herself not to be affected by the wintery glint of his silver-blue eyes. It didn’t work. She sucked in a breath. And then realized both of her hands rested against his hard-as-marble chest. She stepped away.

“I see you still haven’t shaved,” she said.

Agnes appeared at her side. “Harriet, it is not becoming to mention such things to a gentleman.” She curtsied. “Lord Davenport.”

He inclined his head. “Lady Agnes, pleasure to see you again.” His eyes went back to Harriet.

She did her best to ignore the thundering in her chest, but his gaze was so unsettling. Her skin prickled beneath his assessment, and she was all too aware of the way her striped muslin day gown molded to her bodice.

His eyes took in the length of her. “You look—”

---