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CHAPTER FIVE

HARRIET HAD TAKEN several hours to finish altering two of the dowager duchess’s gowns. The work was detailed and left her stiff while hunched over her sewing, so she decided to take a moment to stroll to the pond for a much needed stretch of her legs and ease of her aching back.

Since the duke and his guests were on the terrace enjoying the light breeze as they had their afternoon tea and cakes, she avoided them by darting through the conservatory and onto a nearby wooded lane. She hadn’t walked far before the duke caught up to her. “Is something wrong, Your Grace?”

He was frowning. “No, but I have a favor to ask of you.”

She tried not to wince as she smiled at him. “Of course, if I can help.”

“Before you berate me, Harry…let me just say that I have tried my best to like these ladies.”

Dear heaven.

Now she tried not to burst out laughing.

He seemed so painfully sincere.

“I see,” she said, coaxing him to continue. “You have tried, and?”

The sun shone down on them and felt quite strong even while they stood under the artfully designed row of shade trees that protected the lane from the relentless afternoon heat.

She resumed her walk to the pond, knowing they could talk while strolling.

He appeared lost in his thoughts as he strode beside her. “I have ruled them all out save for Lady Beatrice. But…there is something not quite right about her, Harry. She is hiding something from me.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “It is in her eyes and in her smile, you see. She looks at me, but does not see me . She smiles at me, but it is forced.”

He paused and raked a hand through his hair. “No, not forced but…secretive. That’s a better word for it. Her smile is not one of pleasure but more of a smirk, as though she knows a secret that I do not.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, quite. I know you think I am behaving like a boor toward those ladies, but I assure you that I am not. I have been politeness itself.”

She guffawed.

He wasn’t angry and joined her in a quiet laugh. “Do not chide me, Harry. I am doing the best I can. But it all feels so unnatural with these ladies, even Beatrice. I want to like them, truly I do.”

“What are you asking of me?”

“I am taking them on a picnic tomorrow and would like you to join us. I expect you have altered one or two suitable gowns by now. No subterfuge necessary. You shall be exactly who you are, the sister of one of my dearest friends, George Comeford. I’ll introduce you around, including to Beatrice. It is past time that I did. They must have seen this mysterious lady lingering in the shadows and been wondering about you. Hopefully, you can get more information out of her.”

Harriet had been concerned it would come down to this, that he would use her as a spy. But how could she refuse him after he and his grandmother had been so generous with her? The young lady was probably too smart to spill anything important to her, a stranger, anyway. Nor was he asking her to sneak into Beatrice’s room and rifle through her belongings.

It was just a conversation or two he was asking of her. “Will I be expected to participate in your house party activities after this?”

“And not remain cloistered in your bedchamber?”

She nodded. “Dining with you and your guests. Participating in lawn games and taking tea with all of you. Joining in the evening entertainments.”

“I hadn’t thought much about it…but yes, I suppose. Once you are introduced to everyone, would it not appear odd if you returned to hiding in your room? Others might think I am holding you captive.”

She laughed. “It is quite the loveliest prison to be held in captivity. Soft bed, silk coverlets, excellent food, maids to attend to all my needs, and the loveliest grounds filled with excellent walking paths. Who would ever want to leave?”

He grinned. “Glad you are enjoying your stay.”

“Seriously, Your Grace. You and your grandmother have been so generous with me. I do not know how I will ever repay your kindness. This is why I worry about disappointing you or ever embarrassing you. I am so ignorant about your rules since I do not go about in Society. I do not know your dances or your card games. I do not know how to make flirtatious conversation.”

“Nor do you need to know any of it,” he insisted. “My grandmother and I will teach you anything we deem important. In truth, I do not see any obvious lack in you that requires improvement. You will enchant everyone just by being yourself.”

Harriet thought that was quite an exaggeration.

He was only saying this to allay her fears.

“Then there is the matter of my gowns, Your Grace. I have altered two of them so far and can quickly finish a third. But this would only get me through one day of activities.”

“All right, I see your point,” the duke replied. “We shall deal with this problem later. Right now, all I need is for you to gather as much information as you can from Beatrice during tomorrow’s picnic excursion.”

“Do you really believe she will confide anything in me upon a few minutes of acquaintance? It would probably take several days before Beatrice and I conversed about anything more serious than the weather.”

“I beg to differ. You have an engaging way about you, Harriet. People immediately take to you and trust you.”

“Which makes it more awful that I would betray their trust,” she muttered, not eager to leap into this favor.

Yet, she felt even more awful about spurning his generosity. “All right, I will try.”

“Thank you.” He glanced toward the distant terrace. “I had better return before my guests wonder about me. Until tomorrow then.”

She watched him walk off, his stride purposeful as he marched back to his friends.

Would they all see through her? Snub her?

It did not matter since she was never going to be friends with any of them. Her fate was to be a governess to children or companion to elderly ladies. It wasn’t a terrible fate, although perhaps giving her some moments of embarrassment if she were later to encounter any of these guests at another party while serving as the hired help.

She was not ashamed of her reduced circumstances and could bear any ridicule, assuming anyone even bothered to notice her.

After a lengthy walk around the pond, she started back toward the house to finish her sewing. She would have to work into the night to complete the alterations on a third gown that was fancier than the others and suitable for evening wear.

Her only break would be for supper, but that was hours away. It would only be a short reprieve and then it was back to her task.

Since darkness fell late in the summers, she knew she would be able to work until ten o’clock in the evening and get much accomplished. In addition to the lovely ivory muslin with the floral embroidery suitable for teatime, and the charming pale rose muslin that would be perfect for tomorrow’s picnic, she could also finish her current project, the exquisite ecru silk evening gown designed for formal wear.

As she reached the house, slipping in through the conservatory and breathing in the lovely scent of oranges, lemons, and limes, she also realized there was another problem.

She had those lovely gowns but needed their accompanying accessories.

Had the dowager duchess, Millie, or Mrs. Watkins thought of this? No matter, she would bring it up to them when she saw them next.

After all, what a pity if she had to miss the picnic and an introduction to Lady Beatrice because she had no proper shoes to wear.

The duke might be frustrated, but how was this her fault?

He would know she had worked into the night to complete her sewing.

But every lady present at his party would notice immediately if she wore her old boots beneath these beautiful gowns. Not to mention the bigger problem of having to wear an outfit twice, which she would have to do because she was never going to alter twelve gowns in a matter of days even if she worked through the night every night.

And the guests would all be gone soon anyway.

But right now, shoes were the most obvious problem.

She tried not to reveal her dismay when Mrs. Watkins came striding in with a bag full of shoes the dowager no longer wore. “Here, Miss Harriet. Try these on.”

It turned out the dowager’s feet were the same size as hers. “Oh, what a fortunate coincidence,” she remarked with some dismay.

Mrs. Watkins laughed. “And now you have no excuse to beg out of tomorrow’s picnic.”

Harriet smiled at her, knowing she had been caught. “I should have known you were too clever to overlook any detail of my wardrobe.”

“Take a moment to enjoy your supper while I sort through this collection of shoes and buckles. Some are a little out of style, but nothing that a shiny new buckle cannot not mask.”

Most of the shoes looked as though they had never been worn.

Mrs. Watkins was still digging through the bag when she pulled out the prettiest pair of walking boots that buttoned at the ankles and were of the softest leather. “Aha! You are going to love these, Miss Harriet.”

Harriet ran her hands over the soft leather. “They are beautiful. It is a treasure trove, Mrs. Watkins.”

She went to bed quite pleased with her haul of stylish footwear and three fashionable gowns. But her trepidation returned the following morning while she ate her breakfast in her chamber. Millie scurried in shortly after Harriet had washed up and readied herself for the picnic. “Oh, Miss Harriet,” she said with a shake of her head.

“What is wrong?”

“Your hair…sit back down and let me do it up in a more artful manner.”

“Is it necessary?” Harriet honestly thought she looked quite suitably made up and could pass as someone who traveled in elite circles.

Apparently not, if she read Millie’s expression accurately.

But she had to agree the wise woman was right.

Harriet smiled when looking at herself in the mirror and viewing the end result. In truth, the changes were subtle but important. Her hair was no longer simply pulled back but had a gentle wave to it and a few curls placed to frame her face and show its heart shape to greatest advantage.

Her hair even looked more lustrous, and Harriet had no idea how such a thing was possible. “You are a wonder, Millie. A genuine miracle worker.”

Millie smiled in approval. “Not at all, Miss Harriet. It is all you, and you look so beautiful.”

Harriet laughed. “Now all I have to do is keep my mouth shut and not embarrass the duke and his grandmother.”

Millie gave her hand a gentle pat. “You could never embarrass them. You are too kind and clever.”

Once more left alone, Harriet debated whether to walk downstairs or wait for the duke or his grandmother to escort her to the waiting carriages. Upon glancing out the window, she could see several young men and ladies gathered by a row of carts and more stylish open carriages.

A moment later, someone knocked at her door.

She rushed to open it and found the dowager duchess standing on the other side of the threshold. “Are you ready, Harriet?”

“Yes.” She nodded with enthusiasm even though she dreaded meeting everyone. Still, it was an adventure. When would she ever have such an opportunity?

They walked downstairs arm in arm.

Harriet was more concerned with the duke’s response than that of any of his guests.

Would her supposedly stylish appearance meet with his approval?

Everyone turned their gazes on her when she walked out beside the dowager duchess. The duke strode toward them, his smile noticeable as he approached. “Harry, you look like a princess,” he whispered.

She blushed. “Do not study me too closely or you will see me for who I truly am, a mere schoolteacher.”

“No,” he insisted. “You are a princess.”

“One in disguise,” his grandmother added in jest.

But the words ‘princess’ and ‘disguise’ must have been overheard and obviously misconstrued because the duke’s guests suddenly began to whisper among themselves.

Oh, dear.

They could not possibly believe she was a member of the royal family here incognito. But it seemed they did, for several gentlemen suddenly approached to assist her into one of the open carriages. “We have all been wondering who is this vision Pendrake has kept hidden,” one of the men said.

The ladies looked on curiously.

Some smiled and some frowned, depending on whether they regarded her as a good connection to have at the royal court or competition for the duke’s affections.

“I shall properly introduce all of you to this young lady of mystery upon our arrival at the picnic grounds,” the duke announced, and then hopped in the lead carriage with his grandmother, Lady Philomena, and the young lady’s father.

Harriet was not greatly surprised to find herself seated beside Lady Beatrice and across from two gentlemen who introduced themselves as the Duke of Folkstone and the Duke of Ware. When one of them referred to her as Lady Harriet, she quickly corrected them. “Oh, I am merely Miss Comeford,” she assured.

Lord Folkstone then cracked a jest about his companion. “He is Ware, but we call him the Duke of Beware or simply Beware because he is a shameless womanizer.”

“Indeed, beware of him,” Beatrice intoned, “for his smile is quite dangerous.”

They grinned, and Ware turned the force of his rakish gaze on Harriet.

Uncertain what to do, she simply smiled back.

“Ah, will you look at that? The princess smiles at me.” He was obviously willing to play along with what he believed was her ruse. After all, if this princess wished to pretend she was a commoner, who were they to deny her?

Harriet would discuss this misunderstanding with the duke after the picnic, assuming they could manage a moment alone during this busy day. Ware was a handsome man, but he was being solicitous of her because he thought she was related to the royal family.

Ugh , he kept looking at her and smiling.

He thought she was one of their ilk and perhaps a marriage prospect for the Duke of Pendrake like these other young ladies.

She resolved to remain polite but distant with him and Folkstone who was also being quite attentive to her.

What would happen once they realized she was a person of no consequence?

The carriage ride provided Harriet with an opportunity to converse with Beatrice. They chatted about harmless topics, namely the weather and the day’s planned activities since Harriet did not want to ask anything personal while the two dukes were listening to her with rapt attention and tossing inane compliments.

Her opportunity to converse more seriously with Lady Beatrice arose while the duke’s footmen set up their tables and food under several shade trees in a meadow bordered by a gentle stream. After the duke and dowager duchess had introduced her all around, Beatrice took her arm in hers and suggested they take a walk while the picnic tables were being set up.

“Yes, a lovely idea.”

“Good, come with me,” Beatrice said, quickly leading her away while Ware and Folkstone were waylaid talking to Lady Philomina, Lady Annalise, and several others.

Harriet was surprised by Beatrice’s friendly gesture and further surprised when Beatrice was the one to begin a more serious discussion. “Miss Comeford, am I to assume you have been added to Pendrake’s list of potential wives?”

Harriet shook her head. “No, not at all. I am decidedly not a marriage prospect for him. I hope he makes that clear, for many of the ladies are now scowling at me. Not that I blame them, for my appearance must have come as a surprise.”

A light wind blew across the meadow and wafted over the stream, causing the crystal waters to ripple as they flowed in a southward current. The sun was at its height, but both she and Beatrice had parasols to shade them and the air to cool them as they walked along the bank of the stream.

This was another thing Mrs. Watkins had thought to provide, a lovely parasol that matched the pale pink of her gown.

“Your arrival was a surprise to us all.” Beatrice pursed her lips. “But you say that you are not for Pendrake? Does this mean you are betrothed to another?”

Harriet stifled a lilt of laughter. “No, no betrothal.”

“Are you already married?”

Harriet shook her head. “Not married either.”

This appeared to confuse Beatrice. “Then you are not attached at all?”

“Nor do I expect to be any time soon,” she admitted, or not ever since her fate was to be a governess or companion. “So, you needn’t worry about my designs on the duke since I have none. What about you, Lady Beatrice? What do you think of him?”

She shrugged.

This was not quite the informative answer Harriet had hoped for.

“I sense you are his favorite,” Harriet prodded, hoping Beatrice might open up to her just a little. There was no deceit in making the comment since she was only stating the truth. Pendrake did like Beatrice best of all.

“His favorite?” Beatrice laughed wryly at the remark.

“Yes, I am serious. You do not seem pleased. Do you find something lacking in him?” Who, unless they were in complete loss of their senses, would ever find the duke lacking in any regard? The man was obviously perfect. Perfectly handsome, perfectly clever, kind, and witty. Perfectly wealthy and titled.

How could any woman not fall in love with him?

Unless… “Lady Beatrice, has someone else already claimed your heart?”

Beatrice paused in their walk and turned to her with a guilty blush. “Why would it matter whether my heart lay elsewhere? My father will never approve of any man while Pendrake is on the marriage hunt.”

“Pendrake has also invited his two friends, Ware and Folkstone.”

“Yes, they are also dukes and marriageable. I suppose my father would not mind if one of them proposed to me, either. So, these three are the ones I am expected to enthrall in the hope I will gain an offer of marriage.”

“Of the three, which would you prefer?”

She arched an eyebrow as though the answer were obvious. “Pendrake. He is the best of this lot.”

Harriet would agree.

All were excellent matches, worthy of better than being described as ‘this lot’.

Certainly, there was something about the Duke of Pendrake that elevated him above the others. Perhaps having fought in the war gave him that gravitas , a dignity and solemnity of manner the other men lacked.

No one could question his bravery or valor.

He also had a protective nature.

Harriet melted every time he asked her how she was doing or whether she needed anything.

But she shook out of the thought and pressed on because Beatrice was obviously holding back something more.

“I am hoping to eventually make a love match for myself,” Harried remarked, “but circumstances might never allow for it. I am probably better off not wishing for love.”

Beatrice laughed softly as they resumed their walk, but her gentle trill was tinged with bitterness. “Oh, I do not wish love on you. Not when such a union would never be permitted. It can only lead to heartbreak.”

“Not permitted?” Had Beatrice been denied a love match? If so, Harriet truly felt sorry for this diamond. It had to be awful to be caught up in a love match that would never be fulfilled.

Harriet knew better than to ever allow herself to fall in love with such a man.

Was not the Duke of Pendrake just this man for her?

She would love him wholly and completely if she ever gave her heart free rein.

But she wouldn’t.

As for Beatrice, how cruel to find one’s true and perfect mate and then be denied him for the rest of one’s life. And would it not be the most terrible fate if the man who had won Beatrice’s heart worked for her father and she had to see him every day?

“Lady Beatrice, if you ever wish to talk or ever need a shoulder to cry upon, I am a willing listener. I assure you, it is no trick. I am not in contention as a marriage prospect for the duke and only wish to see him happily settled. He is a very good man and deserves to have a wife who will treat him with kindness and respect.”

Beatrice cast her a smile that was almost genuine, but not quite. “I fear that will rule me out, Miss Comeford. He does deserve such a wife, and I can never be that for him. In truth, I would be more inclined to pursue him if he were a hound such as Ware. My conscience would not bother me when betraying my marriage vows because Ware would never honor them himself.”

Oh, dear.

This was turning quite serious.

“Then you would refuse the Duke of Pendrake if he proposed to you?”

“He must not propose to me,” Beatrice said, now sounding a bit agitated.

“All right, understood.” Harriet frowned. “Do you wish me to convey your feelings to the duke?”

Beatrice cast her a cynical look. “Are you not going to do it anyway? Is this not why he has set you upon me?”

Harriet blushed. “I would not betray our conversation unless you wished me to do it.”

“Then I forbid you to tell him anything of our discussion.”

“As you wish.” The duke would not be pleased, but Harriet could quietly steer him toward another prospect without revealing Beatrice’s love for another man.

Beatrice’s eyes widened. “You surprise me, Miss Comeford. Would you not report this conversation to him the moment we are done walking?”

“I would never tell him anything unless I had your permission,” she reiterated.

She sighed. “Then you may tell him, but not before tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow night?

What was so important about that particular evening?

Dear heaven .

Was Beatrice planning to elope with the fellow who had captured her heart? Or was she merely playing games and making up lies to tease her? In truth, Harriet hoped it was just a game, for an elopement was a very serious thing. What if Beatrice’s father disowned her? She and her true love might be left penniless.

Well, she did not think Beatrice would fall in love with a man of no account. She seemed too sensible for that. But Beatrice had been raised in splendor, having servants to attend to her every need, governesses and tutors, finest clothes, never a lack of food, and the most magnificent shelters.

She might have no understanding of how difficult an impoverished existence could be.

Would she know how to cook or shop or wash her own clothes, assuming this man she adored could not afford servants?

Harriet took a deep breath, knowing what she would say next might give away her own plight and subject her to ridicule. “Lady Beatrice, before you make any move to irrevocably set the course of your life, please consider what I am about to tell you. I do not mean to dismiss your love for another as foolish. But have you considered what might happen if you eloped with him? Does he have the means to support you?”

Beatrice laughed but made no comment, so Harriet continued. “Can he afford to provide a servant for you? Because if he cannot, then you will be the one to do all the housework.”

“You assume my father would disown me.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Harriet asked. “Do you really think you would survive a year of hard work running a household? Assuming your gentleman had the means to provide you with a proper house. And what if he got you with child? You would then have the housework and an infant to care for.”

“Do you really believe I would run off with a wastrel?”

“No, you seem too intelligent for that. But I have had to face being suddenly alone in the world without anything to my name or anyone to turn to for support. It can happen quite quickly, the loss of an entire family and all your possessions, and you are suddenly alone in the world. It is terrifying. Were it not for the Duke of Pendrake and the dowager duchess, I do not know what would have become of me,” she said with heartfelt sincerity.

“Surely, you would have found some royal court to welcome you.”

“No, Lady Beatrice. I would not, for I am not a princess.”

Beatrice cast her an indulgent smile. “That your father was overthrown as king does not make you less of a princess. I am sure our royal family would recognize your status even if your own country has rejected its monarchy.”

Oh, gad.

“Truly, you are mistaken,” Harriet insisted. “And you must not repeat this to anyone.”

Beatrice smiled again. “If you say so.”

If Beatrice still believed that nonsense about her being a secret princess, then everyone at the duke’s party would believe the same, no matter how vehemently she denied it. Unfortunately, it was also possible that the more she denied it, the more the idea would embed in their heads because was it not more exciting to accept she was a fabled princess hiding out with the duke after the downfall of her family?

And all of this came about because of some misconstrued words.

She sighed and gave up her protest. “All I am saying is that life can be very harsh when you do not have the means to feed and clothe yourself.”

“Miss Comeford ,” Beatrice said, stating her name as though it was wholly made up, “let us get serious now.”

Weren’t they being serious during this entire walk?

“You strike me as the perfect match for Pendrake,” Beatrice said, now taking it upon herself to dish out advice. “May I ask, why would you not be in contention?”

“As a prospect for marriage?”

“Yes, I saw the way he looked at you while helping you into the carriage. Even now, he keeps looking your way. Ah, he is now coming toward us. And he is smiling. Tell me, Miss Comeford, is he smiling for me…or you?”