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CHAPTER SIX

MAX STIFLED HIS concern when he saw Harriet’s distress.

What had she and Beatrice said to each other? And why in heaven’s name had he been so arrogant as to put poor Harriet in this position?

The grass was soft beneath his feet as he strode toward them. There was a gentle breeze to cool the air, and he heard the gentle rush of water as he reached them where they stood beside the stream. “Miss Comeford, are you all right?”

“See, he is asking for you ,” Beatrice said and laughingly skittered off.

“What is she talking about?” Max muttered.

Harriet sighed. “She noticed you were smiling as you approached us, and questioned whether the smile was for her or for me.”

“And she thinks I smiled because of you?”

Harried nodded. “I tried to tell her this was ridiculous.”

“But she did not believe you,” Max added knowingly, concerned that his attraction to Harriet was obvious.

He needed to exercise more care when around her.

She was not one of his marriage prospects.

Nor would he ever be so disrespectful as to take her on as a mistress.

That was completely out of the question, and not only because it would betray the friendship he’d had with her brother. Harriet herself was lovely and decent, and deserved better than to become some man’s convenient bed partner.

“The two of you were talking for some time. What did Lady Beatrice say to you?”

The question seemed to add to Harriet’s distress. “How were the other ladies?” she asked in response, her own smile too bright as she purposely diverted his attention. “You rode in the lead carriage with Lady Philomena. Was she pleasant and entrancing?”

“No, the girl has not a drop of brain matter between her ears. She also has the most irritating giggle. But we were not talking about Philomena. I asked you about Beatrice and you immediately changed the subject to the other ladies. Is this your polite way of telling me Beatrice has no interest in me?”

“I think you are better served looking elsewhere, Your Grace.”

“All right,” he said, surprised he was not more put out.

But Harriet still looked quite pained.

“Harriet, is there something more going on that I should know?”

“I cannot say.” She released a heavy breath. “Perhaps you ought to talk to Lady Beatrice yourself and…”

Why had her voice just trailed off?

“Harry, you are worrying me.” Something was amiss. “Is it that you cannot say…or will not say?”

“Both.”

“You’ve promised to keep a confidence? Then Beatrice has something to hide? I knew it.” But he did not feel triumphant about the revelation. “Is she going to do something foolish?”

“I don’t know. Please talk to her,” Harriet said and ran off toward his grandmother who was ensconced in a chair under a shade tree with several of their elderly guests.

Sighing, Max approached Beatrice. “Come walk with me.”

She cast him a sardonic smile as he did not await her reply but simply placed her arm in his and led her away from the others. “Why the interest in me, Pendrake? Has your little spy told you all about our conversation?”

“She has told me nothing, but she is obviously overset. What did you say to her?”

“I did not insult her, if this is what has you concerned.”

“I never considered that you would say anything cruel to her. My concern is for you since she is obviously worried about you, and yet, will not betray your confidence.”

“That speaks well of her,” Beatrice remarked, her manner still irking him because she would not simply tell him what was wrong.

“She is a very decent person.”

“A secret princess,” she said with a nod. “Her English accent is perfect, no doubt acquired at one of those fancy boarding schools on the Continent. Or did she have tutors at court? Was her father deposed and this is why she came to you?”

Max laughed.

By heaven, is this what all his guests thought?

“Miss Comeford vehemently denied any royal blood, of course. But one cannot hide quality.”

“She is quality,” Max admitted. “But I wish to know more about you , Lady Beatrice.”

She paused when they had walked past shade trees and beyond the carriages. “No, you really ought not get to know me better.”

“I see.”

She hurried back to the others.

Max watched her put a cheerful mask on her face as she took Harriet by the hand and led her to the young ladies and bachelors now taking seats around the long tables. With Beatrice having befriended Harriet, the sweet girl with a genuine sunbeam smile was assured acceptance by the others.

Still, he did not wish to stay too far from Harriet.

It might take only an instant for something to go wrong. Should he not remain close to protect her? As everyone well knew, marriage was a cutthroat business, and any missteps were to be pounced upon in order to destroy competitors.

These diamonds would view Harriet as a competitor no matter how loudly she proclaimed otherwise.

The elders settled around one table while the bachelors and diamonds occupied the other. Were it just him and Harriet, he would have brought her out here alone and simply set out a blanket for them to sit upon while they dug into a basket of cold chicken, cheeses, and fruits prepared by his cook to be eaten with their fingers.

But this excursion was more of an outdoor dining affair rather than a true picnic that he knew Harriet would prefer. Odd that he knew this about Harriet, but she took delight in all things natural. Sticking china plates, crystal glasses, and silverware on a lace tablecloth, and having servants run back and forth to fetch their elaborate menu of dishes, was never going to impress her.

He assumed his seat at the head of the table, enduring the chatter of Lady Marianne and Lady Winifred, both of whom were once again making improper advances toward him. At one point, both of them happened to slide their feet up along his legs, one on the right leg and the other on the left.

Blessed saints.

He considered moving his legs back and letting them flirt with each other. How long before they realized they were not playing with him but with each other?

Lady Philomena did not stop giggling.

Lady Annalise did not stop complaining.

Lady Rose appeared to be sensitive to grasses and sneezed continually.

Actually, he felt bad about that.

Lady Beatrice sat beside Harriet, perhaps having taken a liking to her and wanting to protect her just as he did. But that mocking expression of hers truly irked him.

Harriet sat quietly and said very little, but her smile was quite radiant, and the men at the table were easily enchanted by her.

The rest of the afternoon passed enjoyably and uneventfully, save for Harriet’s quiet distress.

Max finally had a moment alone with her once they returned to the manor and the others retired to their bedchambers to prepare for the evening’s entertainments. “Harriet,” he said, knowing he should not have followed her into her bedchamber or shut the door behind them for privacy, but this was gnawing at him, “what is really going on? You have been pale and distracted since you and Beatrice took that walk.”

“Did she not tell you anything?”

“Other than to tell me to get lost? No.”

She sank onto one of the chairs by her small table and let out a breath. “She hasn’t told me anything, either. However…”

“What, Harriet?”

“That’s just it…I don’t know what she means to do. Probably nothing and she was just toying with me because she thinks I am your spy. I am not suited for these ton games. I do not know how to play them. I rather like her, but felt completely manipulated by her.”

“It is that smug look she has had all day. It irked me, too.”

“But what does it mean, Your Grace?”

They had no chance to discuss it further before there was a knock at her door.

Harriet’s eyes widened in panic. “You cannot be found in here.”

He put a finger to her lips to motion for her to be quiet, and then he stepped through the servants door, giving her a nod to allow the person in.

Harriet’s heart was beating fast as she opened the door to find Beatrice’s maid with a note in hand. “For you, Miss Comeford.”

She placed the note in Harriet’s hand and then scurried back to Beatrice’s chamber.

Harriet closed her door and stared at the neatly folded missive.

Max stepped out from his hiding place. “Open it, Harriet.”

She nodded and unsealed it. “She wants me to meet her by the stable at six o’clock.”

“That’s two hours from now. Does she give a reason?”

“No, this is all she wrote. It doesn’t make sense.” She handed the parchment to him for his perusal.

Max did not like this one bit.

Was this another game to be played, an attempt to ruin Harriet by having her found with Ware or Folkstone in the stable? Had Beatrice forged a note to one of them pretending the writer was Harriet and she wished for an assignation?

Surely, Ware or Folkstone would know it was a trick. Harriet was not the sort to steal into a stable for a quick tumble in the hay.

“I’ll go in your place,” he said, still staring at the note as possibilities jumbled in his brain. “I want you to stay here and prepare yourself for tonight’s supper and entertainments.”

“I think I would rather be in the kitchen assisting Mrs. Paltry.”

Max laughed. “You shall be the brightest star of the evening. You charmed everyone at the picnic.”

“Because I kept my mouth shut and smiled like a simpleton. One cannot get in trouble when one says nothing. But I shall be found out the moment I mix up my forks at supper or when the dancing starts and I do not know any of the steps.”

“I’ll get you through the evening, Harriet. Never you worry.”

“And this six o’clock clandestine meeting? I ought to go with you.”

“Absolutely not. What if she plans to have you abducted?”

Harriet’s eyes widened once more. “Why ever would she do such a thing? I have made it quite clear I am not competing for your affections and that I have nothing to my name. Of course, she thinks I am an exiled princess…they all do…but the point is, I’ve made clear I am penniless. Why would you have an interest in a penniless exile?”

“I wouldn’t.” But he knew it was a lie. He did not need an heiress’s coffers to save an estate since his holdings were all profitable and he was a wealthy man. He had the luxury of marrying for love.

But he dared not admit his growing affection for Harriet.

Blessed saints.

What he felt for her was more than mere affection.

He could not get her out of his thoughts, day or night.

Especially night, for his dreams were all about her and the improper things he wished to do to her.

She would dump her ewer of water over his head if he ever gave her the specifics.

All this, and he hardly knew her.

But he knew her skin was soft and lovely.

That her smile lightened his heart and her body made him ache in places…

Best left at that.

He needed to figure out what game Lady Beatrice was playing.

Once again, he studied the missive in his hand. “Harriet, this is not open for discussion. You are to stay here and I shall have Mrs. Watkins sit with you until I return from this supposed meeting.”

“Then take a footman with you, especially if you think something nefarious is going on. In fact, take two.”

“It is not necessary.”

“This is not open for discussion, Your Grace,” she said, frowning at him as she tossed his words back at him. “You are taking those men with you for your protection.”

“Are you giving me orders, Harry?”

She tipped her chin up, looking quite defiant. “I would never presume to order you around. No, this is purely concern for your safety.”

He placed a hand over his heart. “I am touched. Or is it that you are just protecting your investment?”

“What do you mean?”

“You need me to get you settled in a secure position, do you not?” And what would be more secure than as his wife? Too soon to make mention of it, he once again reminded himself.

Harriet was on her feet with her hands curled into fists at her sides. “How could you think I would be so heartless as to worry for your safety only for that reason? It is not a consideration for me at all. I am worried about your safety because I want you to be safe .”

She held out her hand. “Give me that note.”

He tucked it in the breast pocket of his jacket.

She gasped. “Your Grace, it is mine and I want it back.”

“No.”

He noticed the rise and fall of her nicely shaped bosom as she grew irritated with him. What would she do if he kissed her now?

Gad, no.

What was he thinking?

Well, he was obviously thinking that she had the sweetest lips he ached to taste and an even sweeter body that he would very much like to explore.

But exploring the reason for this note came first.

“Harriet, I’m going to do a little investigating beforehand, talk to Ware and Folkstone to see if one of them received a missive they believed came from you.”

“And if they deny receiving anything?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. I’ll bring them to the stable with me for protection whether they received a note or not. They are trusted friends and good fighters. I can count on them to watch my back. This is what we do for each other.”

“Some unwritten duke code? Or secret club that only wayward dukes may join? I noticed the three of you have similar signet rings. Is this by purposeful design?”

He smiled. “Something like that.”

“All right. That is acceptable.”

He gave an exaggerated bow. “I am glad to have Her Highness’s permission.”

She let out a breath. “Please, Your Grace. Do be careful. I shall never forgive myself if you come to harm.”

“I will be, Harriet.” He groaned. “Are you crying?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, but the thought of your getting hurt truly terrifies me, and it is not because you think I have some vested interest in keeping you alive. Can I not worry because you are a good man and I am afraid you might get hurt?”

She looked as though she wanted to throw her arms around him, so he opened his arms to her in encouragement.

She flew into them.

He hugged her, loving the way she melted against him and into him. “Oh, Harry. I shall use all caution.”

He loved the way she sincerely cared for him.

This was her nature, was it not?

Softhearted to a fault.

George had always said this about his sister.

“It is likely nothing at all, Harry. Beatrice may just want to show you one of my horses. I keep several fine racers here.”

She leaned her head against his chest and nodded. “I hope this is all it is.”

He kissed her on the forehead, afraid to kiss her as he truly wished.

The hallway clock bonged to mark the five o’clock hour. Had he been with Harriet almost an hour? It felt like only minutes. “I had better go.”

He would take her in his arms again tonight.

Why not?

And kiss her tonight…really kiss her with scorching heat and passion.

Why not that, too?

And why not ask her to marry him?

Was she not the obviously right choice?