Page 31 of The Marquess and the Maiden

“You know if you keep coming here soliciting my advice, I might have to start charging you by the hour.” He nodded toward Oliver’s hand. “Or at least by the glass.”

…

“Lady Harriet, you have a caller in the front parlor,” the butler said. Harriet looked up from her book and eyed her mother.

Her mother set her embroidery aside and stood. “Shall we see who it is?”

Harriet had a sinking feeling she knew precisely who it was, but she smiled and nodded. Following her mother into the parlor proved her instinct right when she saw Oliver’s tall frame stand from one of the heavy buttoned chairs. He inclined his head.

“Lady Lockwood, Lady Harriet.” He brought his hand forward, revealing a cluster of purple, red, and white flowers. “These are for you.” His steel-blue eyes met hers.

Her cheeks warmed, and she took the flowers. “Thank you. I’ll have them put into water.”

“That’s not necessary, dear, I’ll do it,” her mother said. “I’ll ask for tea as well.”

Harriet stared after her mother, shocked and somewhat horrified that the woman left her alone with a gentleman. Granted, she’d return shortly, and she had left the door open. But, considering Oliver had already taken liberties with her, she best keep her distance. She took a seat as far away from him as possible.

“I was hoping you might ride with me in Hyde Park,” he said.

“Today?” she asked. Her heart thundered, and she wanted to swat at it. The silly thing seemed to have a mind of its own these days, reacting foolishly to his misguided courtship attempts. Thankfully, her actual mind was keen as ever, and she was on to him.

He gave her a lopsided grin. “That is the general idea, Harriet.”

She took a deep breath. “Lord Davenport.” She used his title to emphasize propriety. “Since we’re not actually in a courtship, going riding with you in Hyde Park would serve only to create rumors that would serve neither of our purposes. You are looking for a wife.”

“I have found her.”

She rolled her eyes. “Would you stop that?”

“The only reason we are not officially courting is because you refuse to allow me to do so,” he said. “It is a lovely afternoon. A ride would do you some good.”

“I must agree with his lordship,” her mother said, sweeping back into the room.

Harriet frowned. “I don’t think this is a good—”

“Nonsense,” her mother interrupted. “Go and change into your habit, Harriet. I shall entertain Lord Davenport while he waits.”

It was quite evident that she had lost this battle, and from the smug expression on Oliver’s face, he was relishing that fact. She left the room and childishly stomped up the stairs to her bedchamber. She didn’t want to do this. That wasn’t precisely the truth. She desperately wanted to; she enjoyed his company and his attention. Too much. That’s what was so bothersome about the entire ordeal.

She rang for Lottie and asked for her habit. “What am I to do, Lottie?”

“About what?” Lottie finished unbuttoning her dress and helped slide it off Harriet’s shoulders.

“Lord Davenport’s mockery of a courtship.”

“Perhaps he is serious.”

“Serious about tormenting me. It is as if he is exacting some manner of revenge against me, but I cannot fathom what for.”

“Perhaps he truly wants to marry you,” Lottie said.

“Pishposh.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later, Harriet. You’re a delightful person. Everyone likes you.” Lottie finished fastening the habit in place, then pinned on Harriet’s topper. “You look rather smart in this.”

Harriet glanced down at the dark sapphire habit. It was an attractive confection, she could agree with that. But it fit her too tightly, and she’d never found habits particularly comfortable. “I am not accustomed to going riding.”

“You are not accustomed to being properly courted, but it would seem his lordship is tenacious,” Lottie said.

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