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CHAPTER THREE

HARRIET AWOKE EARLY the next morning, eager for what the day would bring. She said a quick prayer first thing, as was her daily routine. “And Lord, please bless the duke and his grandmother, and keep them safe in your hands. Thank you for bringing them to me…or should I say, for delivering me to them .”

She then prepared herself for the day, taking more time than usual in washing up because for the next few days she was a woman of leisure.

Besides washing her body with one of the fragrant soaps provided to her, a lovely lemon-scented one that felt soft as cream on her skin, she also took a moment to wash her hair. The sun was up and the day was already warming, so she knew her hair would dry well before any of the guests awoke. This would give her the opportunity to explore Pendrake Hall’s magnificent grounds while the sunshine dried her unbound hair.

She donned the prettiest of her three gowns, a russet muslin that could never compare to the beautiful gowns worn by the ladies attending the duke’s house party, and then made her way down the servants stairs, intending to quietly walk out the back.

The stairs she chose led into the kitchen that was already bustling as the cook and her staff prepared the day’s meals.

The scullery maids paused in their duties to stare at her.

The cook frowned. “And who might ye be, young miss? Did ye lose yer way?”

“I do apologize for interrupting you,” Harriet said with a smile. “My, that smells delicious. And may I mention that your meal last night was the best I have ever tasted in my entire life? I can see why His Grace speaks so highly of you. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Paltry. I am Miss Harriet Comeford.”

The cook blushed, obviously not expecting any compliments. Nor did she expect to be called by name, but seemed quite pleased that Harriet knew it.

“She’s the young lady His Grace settled in the Blue Room,” said one of the footmen seated at a long table along with several others on the duke’s staff who were obviously being served their breakfast.

Others began to whisper, and Harriet heard her assigned bedchamber mentioned in awe several times, as though this was the room reserved for royalty.

“Do forgive me, m’lady,” the cook said with a reverence Harriet found most amusing, and gave a quick curtsy.

“Nothing at all to forgive,” Harriet assured the woman who looked very much as she imagined a cook ought to look despite the ironic coincidence of her name. Paltry denoted something small or meager, but this cook was plump and ruddy-cheeked, had beefy hands, and a no-nonsense attitude. “I am the trespasser here, Mrs. Paltry. I was merely hoping to slip out of the house unnoticed so that I might explore the beautiful grounds. I have a view of the garden and the meadow beyond from my windows and was eager to see them up close. These grounds are obviously well thought out and maintained with love.”

Two men at the table stood up, one an older gentleman with a lanky build and a younger fellow who was probably his son due to the resemblance. The older man confirmed it not a moment later. “I’m the head gardener, Alfred Blunt, and this is my son, Herbert. We will gladly show you around, m’lady…that is, if you have any interest in—”

“I would be most grateful, Mr. Blunt,” Harriet said with a nod. “I had a small garden in my prior home that I enjoyed tending, but I never got my roses to bloom as yours do. I would love to learn your secret.”

It was not long before young Herbert and his father, Alfred, were leading her about the formal grounds, discussing every plant and its care. “Good placement in the sun is important for roses, m’lady. But other flowers require more shade. We’re fortunate to have steady rainfall to feed these plants, but not all can endure too much water.”

“So you’ve selected the hardier blooms for this portion of the garden?” Harried asked.

“Aye, Miss Comeford, because they can withstand the more drastic changes nature throws at them. Take these flowers along the border of each planting bed…”

Harriet listened in fascination as Alfred revealed the tricks he used to create his splendid blooms. “When the weather turns cold, we cut the rose stalks down to here,” he said, showing her how far down he cut the branches to strengthen them for the next year’s bloom. “But anything we plant also needs to be fed, just as any of us require nourishment to thrive.”

“What do you mean?” Harriet watched as he picked up a handful of soil to show her. “How does one feed a plant?”

“We add certain things to the soil in the spring and at times throughout the planting season. Herbert here has been experimenting with various natural elements.”

“Natural? Such as?” Harriet was truly engrossed even though she no longer had a garden of her own and would likely never have another.

“Some crops seem to invigorate the soil. Beans and turnips do wonders. Orange peels are my latest discovery,” Herbert said with obvious pride.

“Where would you get oranges? They are quite the delicacy.”

“The duke has us grow them in his orangery,” Alfred said. “I’m sure he would show you if you asked him.”

“I would, Miss Comeford,” a voice she recognized as belonging to the duke said jovially from behind her.

She had been so caught up in studying the soil, she had not heard his approach.

“Oh.” She turned in dismay, for her hair was still damp and unbound, and she never meant for him to see her like this. “Good morning, Your Grace. I did not expect you to be up at this hour.”

He looked extraordinarily handsome in his casual clothing that consisted of buff breeches, a coarse linen shirt, and scuffed brown boots. Of course, those boots were of the finest leather. “I’m usually an early riser. By this time in my normal routine, I would have just returned from my morning ride. But I skipped it today to steal a few hours of sleep. Perhaps you’ll join me when I ride tomorrow.”

She laughed lightly. “Oh, no. I do not know the first thing about horses. Nor do I have the proper outfit for it, even if I knew how to sit astride one.”

“I do apologize. I just assumed…” His expression turned to one of dismay.

“Because my brother was an excellent rider?” She nodded, realizing he must have been thinking of him and their years together in battle. “He tried to teach me once, but I was quite hopeless. An utter dunce on horseback.”

This explanation seemed to assuage him, as did her smile, for she heard him let out a soft breath and then he smiled at her in return. “Would you care for a tour of the orangery?”

“Yes, I would love it.”

He surprised her by holding out his arm to her, as though she were a fine lady to be escorted.

She rested her hand in the crook of his arm, and tried to appear unaffected by their nearness or the fact she was touching him. But this was an impossibility, for the duke was a handsome man with a rugged build and her hand rested on solid muscle.

She thanked Herbert and Alfred, and then felt her heart beat faster as she walked off with the duke.

“I watched you for a while as you walked around the flower beds with my gardeners,” he admitted. “You appeared to be so fascinated with what they were telling you.”

She nodded. “I was. Those two are quite clever and know so much about how to breathe life into everything they plant. They are as much scientists as they are gardeners, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes. I am fully aware of their capabilities.”

She glanced up at him as they strolled toward the orangery. “I am not surprised. You seem to notice everything. This helps me to understand how you view your responsibilities as duke.”

“How do you think I view them?”

“Similar to those of a gardener,” she said, knowing he would not expect her answer.

He laughed. “How so?”

“You make it your duty to nourish the people around you. Like plants, we all need food and light to flourish.”

“And you think I provide it?” he asked as they approached the side of the house that held a glass structure connected to an outer stone wall.

“Yes, I know it for a fact.”

He shrugged, but he seemed pleased by the remark.

“In my own small way,” she said, now musing about her role in the convent school these past few years, “I hoped to do the same with my students. I think this is why I enjoyed teaching so much. It gave me the ability to guide their young minds.”

Having said that, she frowned lightly because she could have done so much more had she been permitted to encourage her students to the extent she wished. Apparently, those above her did not consider it wise to educate the girls under her tutelage to think for themselves and explore the things they loved.

“You are frowning, Harriet. Why?”

“I had to follow a strict curriculum. The abbess was not as encouraging as I would have liked.”

“Ah, I see. She did not want the children laughing or asking too many questions.”

She winced. “Quite so. I did not see the harm in it, but I was overruled. Still, I did what I could to instill curiosity and enthusiasm in my students. But I never ignored the basic teaching regimen because how are they ever to get on in the world if they cannot read or do sums?”

She brushed back a curl that insisted on sticking to her cheek because of the light breeze blowing her hair around as it was drying.

The duke paused to watch her fuss with it. “Here, you need to tuck it more securely behind your ear.”

He did it for her, grinning as he did so. “No wonder George often referred to you as an imp. You have the look of one. Big eyes. Little ears that stick out.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I was hoping to present myself as refined and elegant.”

“No, you mustn’t try to blend in with all the other young ladies. Be your natural self.”

“Unrefined and inelegant?” Was this what he was suggesting about her? Yet, he did not appear to be rude or insulting to her.

“Not at all.” He led her into what turned out to be a large conservatory that held many plants along with orange trees and lemon trees. “To me, refined and elegant suggests fakery. People pretending to be something they are not. It is all surface. No inner depth.”

“Is this not being overly harsh on the young ladies visiting you? They are probably scared to make a wrong step and ruin their chances with you.”

“Are you going to lecture me again on being kinder to them and getting to know them better?”

She blushed. “No, Your Grace. It is merely a suggestion because I understand how they must feel. But I would never presume…well, I apologize if I offended you. Truly, I did not mean to chide you. Would you mind if I remained in the conservatory a while longer? What you have done here is incredible. I fully understand if you no longer have the patience for me.”

He arched an eyebrow. “What makes you think I wish to leave you?”

Her blush deepened as she stared up at him. “I thought I had irritated you.”

“You must think I am a very delicate creature who easily takes offense. Believe me, I am not. My hide is quite thick. You have not said anything wrong, Harry. Let me show you around, and then I shall give you a taste of my oranges. Have you ever tried one?”

“No, never.” She breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at him with heartfelt gratitude.

Nor could she stop smiling as he led her from plant to plant, explaining what each one was and why Herbert and Alfred were assisting him in growing them. She walked among herbs, spices, cabbages, and cucumbers, to name a few, never once uttering a complaint that it was too hot or humid in here.

Indeed, the conservatory had heated considerably as the sun beat down on the glass. Alfred and his son must have been in here first thing this morning to water all the plants because the floors were wet in spots and moisture filled the air.

By the end of the duke’s tour, both of them were perspiring.

Harriet also found it a little uncomfortable to breathe, but there was plenty of air once the duke opened a few windows to allow the morning breeze to filter in.

Even if he had not opened them, she would have said nothing because she did not want to cut short her time with him.

He was so knowledgeable and she enjoyed listening to him.

“And here is my pride and joy,” he said as they came upon the orange trees that lined the south wall of the glass enclosure. “Took us a while to get them right. But my gardeners know what they are doing.”

“You needn’t convince me. You came upon us just as Alfred Blunt was about to explain the value of orange peels and how he applied them to the soil. I’ll ask him about this tomorrow.”

“Why wait? I can tell you.”

She inhaled lightly. “You?”

He tweaked her chin. “Yes, me. Why do you think I would not know the answer?”

“You have a lot to occupy your time and could not possibly keep a house this well maintained unless you delegated duties to your excellent staff. An efficient housekeeper to keep the house clean and well stocked. A talented cook to prepare your meals. Do you know how to cook and clean?”

He laughed. “No.”

“See? So why should you know all there is to know about gardening?”

“Because it is of scientific interest to me. Why would I not? I am an attentive owner and want my farms and the cattle I raise to be productive.”

“That is most important, obviously. And you are not only attentive, but caring and appreciative. This was the first thing I noticed when arriving here, how proud everyone is of their role in making this estate function, and their pride in service to you. The fact that you know what your gardeners do with the orange peels says a lot about you, and I do mean that as a compliment. So, what do they do with the orange peels?”

“Grind them up lightly and mix them in with the soil.”

“And this is how they get their lush growths? Yes, it makes sense. The peels must absorb the rainwater and release it as the soil dries. There must be other properties to these peels that encourage healthy blossoms. Quite fascinating, really.”

“I think so,” he said, and she noted his chest puff up a little with pride. “I doubt any of the other ladies would think so, however.”

She regarded him with exasperation. “You are doing it again, making assumptions about these ladies without giving them the chance to prove you wrong.”

He once again arched an eyebrow, an appealing quirk that he did whenever challenged. “Do you truly believe any of them will care about orange peels as you do?”

She laughed, knowing the notion was absurd when put that way.

The ladies would probably think him touched in the head. But one or two might understand the value of this knowledge and listen with interest. Was it not worth testing out? She decided to goad him into a wager. “Oh, I think most of them will.”

She was not goading him for the purpose of exchanging money since she had none to exchange and would not be tossing it on a wager even if she had enough to spend on such frivolities.

He shook his head as though not hearing her right. “What?”

“I think most of them will be fascinated by the use you put to those orange peels.”

He laughed heartily. “Harry, are you having me on? None of them will care a whit about their agricultural efficiency. Shall we place a wager on it?”

She nodded. “Yes, I am all in. However, I haven’t anything to wager. You know I came to you penniless.”

“That’s right. I’m sorry. I was not thinking.” He cast her a remorseful look. “It needn’t be a money wager, Harry. If you win, I shall help you clean the little chapel in the woods.”

She inhaled lightly in surprise, for this was a better outcome than she thought possible. “And if you win?”

“You must let me teach you to ride. My grandmother has several old riding habits that you can easily alter to fit you, so you have no reason to decline this bet.”

“Frankly, I do not see any risk to me. I would love to learn how to ride, but…” She cast him an impish smile. “I would love even more to see you scrubbing the chapel floor. Are we agreed that you must do it and not merely assign it to your scullery maids?”

“Hah! I knew there was a cruel streak in you,” he teased.

“Oh, do not say that. I will be on my knees scrubbing right alongside you,” she assured him because she wasn’t really going to make him do it all on his own.

He would not have to do it at all if he won the bet.

“You would work alongside me?”

She nodded.

His smile was tender as he held out his hand, expecting her to shake it. “Are we agreed then?”

She placed her hand in his, denying the tingles that shot through her as he closed his hand around hers. His were not the hands of a gentleman but a laborer, slightly roughened. Big hands that were firm but gentle in their grip. “Agreed. Get out your bucket and scrub brush, Your Grace.”

“Oh, no,” he said, his grin wide. “It is you who must get out your needle and thread to alter the old riding habit.”

They both had a chuckle over the wager before moving on to the lemon trees. The duke surprised her by leaning close, so that his nose was inches from her neck, and breathing in the scent of her skin. “That’s what I noticed on you. Lemon.”

She nodded. “It’s in the elegant Farthingale soap Mrs. Watkins provided for me. Isn’t it a lovely fragrance?”

He nodded. “Smells nice on you.”

She had purchased one of those luxurious soaps years ago while on a visit to Oxford with her brother, but that was in happier times when he was healthy and they could afford an occasional frivolity.

There was more to peruse in the conservatory, but the duke cut short their tour because his guests would soon be rising and he had to ready himself for the day. “I wish I could spend more time with you, Harry. But duty calls.”

“Of course. You have been quite generous with me.”

“A pleasure, I assure you. What do you plan to do today? Would you like me to include you in any—”

“Oh, not yet. Please, I am in no way ready to be introduced to anyone. I’ll have plenty to do sewing hems and taking in seams on the gowns your grandmother will lend to me.”

“Not lend, they shall be yours to keep. Ah, now you look pained.”

“Because it is unnecessarily generous,” she explained.

“And I have now made you feel like a charity case,” he muttered. “It isn’t my intention. In truth, it is very little to give you. How else am I to repay your brother for saving my life? Being brothers in arms has a meaning, Harry. It makes you a part of my family. And should a man not look after his family?”

She nodded.

Still, it felt all to her advantage.

“Join us for tea this afternoon if you feel daring enough to meet my guests.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” She did not think she would have any of his grandmother’s gowns altered in time today. Not to mention, she was too cowardly to attempt mingling with this Upper Crust set and had avoided them for the past two days now.

She intended this to be the third day of avoiding that crowd.

He cast her an affectionate smile. “All right. At your own snail’s pace.”

She thought he would now leave her, but he walked over to one of the orange trees instead and plucked an orange off one of the lower branches. He then withdrew a knife from the lip of his boot and began to peel it.

When pieces of the rind fell to the floor, Harriet bent to pick them up.

The duke stopped her. “The gardeners will collect it later. Here, have a taste of this and tell me what you think.”

Harriet had never tasted an orange before and was not certain what to expect, but it was never this sweet, juicy marvel.

Her eyes widened as she swallowed a slice. “It is delicious. I have never tasted anything so good.”

“I know.” He grinned and popped a piece into his mouth, then gave her the next piece.

Before she knew it, they had eaten the entire orange.

“Did you enjoy it?” He rubbed his thumb along her chin to wipe off a dribble of juice.

She laughed. “Immensely.”

“Good.” He dropped his hand to his side, and regarded her a long moment before speaking again. “I really need to see to my guests now.”

“Oh, yes. Please do not let me delay you. May I stay here a little while longer?”

“Stay as long as you wish.”

“I won’t linger since I have quite a bit of sewing to do. But thank you for a most enjoyable tour.”

He nodded. “I’ll look in on you later.”

He then strode off, leaving her to wander about the conservatory on her own.

Harriet did not stay long after him.

Not only did she have sewing to do, but she did not want to be seen by any of his guests yet since her hair was undone, and her hands and face were sticky from the juice squirting out whenever she bit into the orange flesh.

Feeling exhilarated by the morning’s adventure and the upcoming wager made with the duke, she took a moment to wash her hands and face in the kitchen spout, and then sprinted up the servants stairs to her bedchamber.

She entered only to find the dowager duchess and several maids already there. “Oh, I hope I did not keep you waiting, Your Grace.”

She had no idea the dowager was also an early riser.

Well, it was already mid-morning but still long before noon when most others would begin to stir.

“Not at all, my dear. You are right on time. I’ve chosen several old gowns of mine and those of Pendrake’s mother, as well. I think these will suit you quite nicely and can be more easily altered than most.”

“They are beautiful,” Harriet murmured, running her hands lightly over the delicate silks and sturdier muslins that had been finely crafted.

“The lace trim on some of them is showing age, but those are easily replaced with fresh trimmings,” the dowager remarked, turning to one of the maids. “Alice, fetch me the lace basket.”

The girl bobbed a curtsy and hurried off.

The dowager then pointed to a basket perched on the small table where Harriet had eaten her meal last night. “You’ll find needles and all the threads you might need in this basket. Measuring tape, pins, and scissors, too.”

Harriet crossed to the table and opened the lid, eager to inspect its contents. “Goodness, this is perfect.”

“If you do not like these choices in gowns, just let Alice know and she will fetch more. I’ll leave her with you to help you out for the day. However, I must warn you that she is a most pleasant girl but cannot sew to save her life.”

Harriet laughed. “I shall keep that in mind.”

“And now you must allow Millie,” the dowager said, nodding to the woman beside her who appeared to be in her early forties, “to properly style your hair. She is my own maid, but will also attend you for this week. Listen to whatever Millie recommends. She may look old and dour, but her sense of fashion is impeccable.”

“Gladly.” She cast Millie a welcoming smile, and Millie—who did not look to be ancient at all or dour—smiled back. Harriet saw at once that the woman carried herself with the confidence and authority of an experienced lady’s maid.

Harriet knew they would get along well because Millie had kind eyes.

Mrs. Watkins bustled in next, carrying a large tray. “Your breakfast, Miss Harriet.”

Harriet raised the lid on the silver salver to reveal its contents, poached eggs, kippers, and bread to sop up the runny yolks. Also on the tray was a teacup and small teapot. “Thank you. Oh, that smells delicious. I shall be fat as a goose by the time I leave here,” she said with a trill of laughter.

The dowager shook her head. “You are a slender, little thing. You could do with some meat on your bones.”

Alice returned with the basket of laces, and set the basket beside the tray. “There, you’ll find everything you’ll need in here, Miss Harriet.”

Harriet thanked the young maid.

The dowager gave a nod of approval. “Enjoy your day, Harriet. I shall stop by later to see how you are getting on. But do not feel you are a prisoner here. The day looks to be quite pleasant, so wander around, as you like.”

“That is most gracious of you, Your Grace.”

The dowager left to join her grandson and the earlier rising guests in the dining room. Mrs. Watkins also bustled off to attend to her duties, but Alice and Millie remained to assist her. “Have your breakfast first, Miss Harriet,” Millie said. “Wouldn’t want it to get cold.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes,” Millie assured her. “We get an early start in this household, as you must have noticed. Even Her Grace is an early riser, just like her grandson.”

“Which means we must all be up and about, dressed and having eaten by seven o’clock sharp,” Alice added.

Harriet ate while the maids set the gowns out on her bed.

“Which one will you work on first?” Millie asked.

“The emerald green is quite nice, but which one would you suggest?”

“The ivory muslin with the floral embroidery, without question. I recommend adding a little silk trim here to accentuate the graceful line of your collar, and some lace here and there, but not too much because you do not want to overwhelm the design. As for the emerald gown, it is too bold a color for your complexion and will make your skin look sallow.”

Harriet laughed. “The ivory, it is. Thank you, Millie.”

When she finished her breakfast, Millie styled her hair and then left her and Alice to manage the alterations to this first gown.

Alice helped her to pin it, and then left to attend to her regular chores.

Harriet did not mind being left on her own since she had plenty to do to occupy her time. She settled on the window seat, enjoying the sunlight streaming in through the window to provide ample illumination while she sewed.

She also liked that she had a view of the garden, and it was not long before she noticed the duke strolling along the flower beds with a young lady on his arm.

Harriet felt a slight pang of sadness, for she wished to be the one beside him. Of course, it could never be so. And did she not have the pleasure of a walk with him earlier this morning? So what did she have to complain about?

She paused in her sewing and watched him as he bent down to pick up something amid one of the flower beds. “An orange peel,” she said, chuckling.

Oh, she had to watch this now.

He held it out to the young lady who took a step back as he did so.

Harriet was too far away to hear him and could not read his lips, but he appeared to be explaining the properties of the orange peel.

The young lady simply looked horrified.

Shrugging, he tossed the peel back into the flower bed. But just before walking off with the young lady, who looked ready to bolt from the garden, he looked up at Harriet’s window, grinned, and arched an eyebrow to indicate he had won this first round.

Harriet could not help laughing.

She nodded to acknowledge his minor victory.

Well, not everyone adored gardening.

Not an hour later, he strolled out with another young lady on his arm.

Harriet started laughing again as he bent down at the same flower bed and retrieved the same orange peel. The young lady’s response was similar to the first. “Oh, Max,” Harriet said, unable to stifle her amusement. “You dog, don’t you dare win this bet.”

He looked up at her window, that smug grin back on his face as he tossed the peel back in the flower bed.

There were four more ladies to go.

Surely, one of them would come through for her.

As it turned out, two of them did. Not that they embraced that orange peel with full vigor, but they showed sufficient interest that the duke could not claim his victory.

She had just finished her afternoon tea when she heard a knock at her door. It could have been anyone, but she knew it was the Duke of Pendrake himself, and hastened to open the door. “Victory is mine,” she laughingly teased as he strode in.

“You got lucky, Harry.” But he chuckled, so she knew he was not angry.

“Not at all. You were too quick to dismiss all of these ladies without truly getting to know them. But are you not pleased that two of them found the orange peel story fascinating?”

He chuckled again. “They were hardly that. Mildly interested, perhaps. Tolerant. Willing to endure and feign interest because they had their eye firmly fixed on the prize…my dukedom.”

“Honestly, Your Grace. You are the prize.”

“Harriet, have you learned nothing yet? They would not look at me twice if I were other than the duke. Were I a second or third son, they would be pushing me out of the way and never looking back.”

“I hope this is not true. But the fact remains that…” She broke into a silly victory dance, hopping up and down while singing, “I won. I won.”

He folded his arms across his chest and watched her with a gleam in his eyes and a wide grin. “Never let it be said that the Duke of Pendrake is a sore loser. Be ready at eight o’clock sharp tomorrow morning. We’re going to scrub that little chapel in the woods to a dazzling shine.”