Page 1 of A Virgin for the Rakish Duke (Romancing a Rake #3)

CHAPTER ONE

Oaksgrove, London

H arriet stood before her full-length dress mirror.

The afternoon sunlight bathed her in a warm glow.

Her dress was resplendent purple and dark blue, glittering in the sunlight with lighter shades that mirrored the sky.

Her long hair was black, and her slightly tilted eyes, green.

A smile played across her lips, lifting her rosebud cheeks.

The mask that accompanied the dress sat on the dressing table beside her, a black raven—emblem of the Earls of Oaksgrove.

If only Mama and Papa could see me. Would they be proud? I hope so.

For a moment, behind her in the mirror, she could see the tall, slender woman with flowing black locks and the green, tilted eyes that her daughter had inherited; sitting on the bed and watching her with a proud smile.

“ You are beautiful, Harriet. Enjoy this moment. A ball is a celebration of beauty and you will be the center of attention .”

“ And who knows, perhaps you will meet your husband this evening? He had better be worthy of you .”

That was the deep voice of her father, with his long, shaggy light-colored mane and square-jawed face. Sitting next to her mother, one strong arm protectively around her, as Harriet had seen many times when they were alive.

“Who knows indeed,” Harriet whispered, letting the memory of her parents fade.

She could not think of them without some sadness, even today when she was at her happiest. They had been taken so suddenly from her and Ralph. Neither of them had been given the chance to say goodbye.

Ralph copes by throwing himself into the role of Earl. Master of the house and my guardian. Perhaps a little too zealously, but I must forgive him for that. He only wants to protect me. As Mama and Papa did.

And this evening, Ralph would escort her to the masquerade ball of the Duke and Duchess of Chelmsford.

She snatched up her mask, affixed it to her face, and dashed from her rooms. Along the carpeted hallway past the many landscape paintings created by her father, down the stairs to the second floor, and along the hallway there to her grandmother's rooms.

She knocked quickly and opened the door. In the sitting room with its south-facing windows, she saw her grandmother sitting in her favorite seat, looking out over the gardens planted by her daughter-in-law, Harriet's mother.

“No, child,” Agnes Tisdale, Dowager Countess of Danbury, began, “I was not in conference.”

“I did knock, grandmama,” Harriet grimaced.

“Barely,” Agnes replied with a pointed chin.

She had a croquet hoop on her lap and wore her customary black, mourning that had begun for her husband and continued for her son and his wife. She had a strong jaw and the Tisdale's fair hair, though the only color remaining was white.

“What do you think?” Charlotte asked, turning in a circle with arms widespread.

“A truly beautiful example of Corvus Corax ,” Agnes noted.

Harriet tilted her head, a birdlike gesture, confused. Agnes rolled her eyes expressively.

“Child, your parents should have paid more attention to your tutors. It is the Latin name for the raven.”

Harriet smiled, removing the mask and shaking her raven-dark hair loose.

“Ah, Latin was never my strong suit, though I did love my natural history studies.”

“They gave you and your brother a great deal too much leeway when it came to choosing your studies. He wanted to do nothing but ride and shoot, and you wanted to run wild in the woods. Your parents would not be told. They were too keen to see the pair of you happy, even if unhappiness was in your own best interests.”

Harriet gave her grandmother a level look, taking a seat opposite her.

“You do not fool me, grandmama. I remember the stories Papa told me about his upbringing. I think you indulged him as much as he indulged Ralph and me.”

“I did. I was foolish. And look what happened, child.”

She wagged a stern finger at Harriet, who took it and kissed it. Agnes allowed a rueful smile to break through her customary stern expression, drew her granddaughter to her, and kissed the top of her head.

“I am glad that Ralph has overcome his usual excessive protectiveness and is taking you to the Chelmsfords’ ball this evening. A bird should be free, not cooped up in a cage. Even one as gilded as Oaksgrove.”

Harriet rocked. “I am so excited I could barely sleep! I am sure that by the end of this evening, I will be asleep before my head hits the pillow,” she laughed, “I have not been to a ball since my debut. Not to a luncheon or a promenade in Chelmsford. This estate has felt like a prison at times.”

She looked out of the window at the gardens that her mother had loved so much; at the woods beyond which clustered thickly around the southern end of the Oaksgrove estate and included the ancient grove that the estate took its name from.

Though she had the freedom of the grounds and the woods, it felt limiting to know that she was not permitted to go beyond without either Ralph or her grandmother as escort.

Not permitted to ride or be carried by carriage alone, either, and never to travel in any carriage that did not belong to Ralph and, therefore, was kept in a state of meticulously good repair.

“Your brother bears the weight of an Earl. Guardian of this house, these lands, his sister and aged grandmother both. It is a heavy burden, and he does the best that any man can,” Agnes remarked somberly, her voice dry with age.

“Of course he does,” Harriet murmured, “and I am one year away from my majority. Then I shall be able to carry some of that weight myself.”

A knock at the door was followed by the door opening, almost before the sound of the knock had reached them.

A tall young man with long legs and a shock of coal black hair stepped into the room.

He wore an overcoat and carried a top hat.

Behind him was a groom carrying two suitcases as well as Oakgrove's butler, Mr. Beecham.

“Ah, you're both here. How fortuitous! I just wanted to say goodbye. I received a letter this morning and must bring forward my plans to travel to Bristol. I shall be away for about a month, I should think.”

He spoke in a clipped voice, ever efficient when talking of business. He had the same green eyes as Harriet, his prominent jaw looked out of place with his lean physique, the former from his father; the latter from his mother. Harriet felt a cold chill run through her.

“But this evening is the Chelmsford ball, Ralph... You were to escort me,” she reminded, rising from her seat.

He clapped his hands by his chest. “Ah, yes, I appreciate you must be disappointed, Hattie. But there is nothing for it. I must be in Bristol by daybreak to catch the tide. My ship is due to sail, and I must speak to her captain regarding his trading instructions. There will be other balls.”

It was put in dismissively, as though this occasion were of no consequence.

To him, it quite possibly isn't. He has the freedom to come and go as he pleases. It does not matter to him that he will not attend the ball. But to me, it is the first time in more than a year that he has agreed to allow me to leave Oaksgrove!

“But Ralph, I have been so looking forward to...”

He looked at her tolerantly and crossed the room to take her hands. There was a kindly look on his face, but also a resolute expression.

“Dear Harriet, I assure you there will be other occasions, but no other chance for me to conduct the business arrangements that are for the good of us all. Please don't make a fuss.”

Agnes frowned. “No, Ralph, your sister has gone to a great deal of trouble for this evening. Surely, she can be accompanied by—”

“No,” Ralph snapped, “she will not attend alone. Under no circumstances!”

“I am a grown woman...” Harriet protested weakly.

“Only just, and with no experience of the world,” Ralph added.

“But how am I to gain experience of the world if I am locked away here!” Harriet cried.

“Hardly locked away. You have the run of the estate. I am merely saying that you cannot attend the Duke of Chelmsford's ball,” Ralph said patiently, “come to think of it, Beecham, I would like you to keep a close eye on my sister.”

He directed this last to the butler who stood behind him. The man was shorter than his master and stocky with close-cropped red hair and a freckled, pale-skinned face with blue eyes. He nodded sharply.

“As you say, milord,” he said in a steely tone, glancing once at Harriet.

“And I will hear no more on the subject from you, Hattie. It is for your own good. Perhaps I will find a suitable husband for you during my time in Bristol, think on that.”

He kissed her forehead and gave her hands a squeeze. He smiled benevolently, and Harriet returned the smile weakly.

The house was a prison once more.

“If you will excuse me, I think I will take the air for a while,” she breathed shakily.

Without waiting, she left the room, heading downstairs and for the nearest door that would let her out into the grounds. The hallways and rooms of Oaksgrove seemed smaller all of a sudden, and she felt a craving for fresh open air.

“Psst! Harriet, are you alone?”

Harriet was startled out of a reverie that had engulfed her as she walked through the gardens of Oaksgrove. Beside her was a low wall of stone that separated the gardens from the woods beyond. A head of fiery, gold hair was peeking above that wall, framing pale blue eyes.

Harriet looked around. Not for Ralph, he would have left without a second thought. But for Beecham. A very loyal servant and one who took his instructions very seriously .

There was no sign of the butler in the gardens, but Harriet could not be certain that the man was not watching her from one of the house's windows.

“I think so, Jane. I will meet you at the gate,” she whispered back.

The gate that allowed access to the grove and the woods beyond was a quarter mile along the wall.

“That is far too far! I will meet you at the arbor over there. The wall is not high.”

The head disappeared behind the wall. Harriet hurried along the path to the rose arbor that was a few yards away.

She walked under the bright red and white flowers, breathing in their heady aroma.

Jane Sullivan appeared atop the wall, scrambled over it to drop to the other side before carefully sidestepping her way through the clutching rose thorns.

She grinned at Harriet, who could not help laughing at her friend's brazen daring.

“What would happen if you fell and twisted an ankle?” Harriet chided gently, “Or tore your dress on a rose thorn?”

Jane shrugged. “I would get the dress repaired, and as to the ankle, Papa is frequently hobbling about on crutches with gout. I should pretend the same.”

The idea of the slender, quick-footed young girl being afflicted with an illness that struck down old men was comical. Harriet laughed despite the sadness that threatened to drag her down into a pit of despair.

“I know you well enough, Harriet, to see through that smile. I arrived just in the nick of time. Whatever is the matter?”

She threaded her hands through Harriet's arm, hanging on tightly. They walked through the rose arbor.

“Ralph has been called away on business. I will not be attending the Chelmsford ball after all,” Harriet said despondently.

“What rot!” Jane exclaimed. “I am being escorted by my cousin Phillip Hamilton of Heybridge. He is entirely respectable and would gladly provide an escort for you from among his brothers. I think his next younger brother, Edmund, is to take clerical orders. You cannot get more respectable than that.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Harriet sighed. “It is not the lack of an escort that prevents me from attending, but that Ralph himself cannot be there. He is very protective, as you know, ever since…”

They reached the end of the arbor, and Harriet stopped. She looked back over her shoulder at the house. In one of the windows on the second floor, she thought she saw movement, as of a figure standing at the window, watching.

“Let's stay here for the moment. Where we cannot be seen,” she murmured.

Jane peered through the interlaced roses at the house.

“Is your brother spying on you?” she demanded, sounding outraged at the notion.

“Not personally. He asked Beecham to keep an eye on me, and the man takes his orders far too literally.”

“The man is a servant! And you are the lady of the house now. You can order him not to.”

“He will not take my orders where they contradict his master's.”

Jane frowned, stroking her chin as she always did when thinking.

“And will he bar you from leaving the house?” she asked.

Harriet nodded.

“Then we must sneak you out. I have sneaked myself out of the house enough times,” Jane said.

Harriet laughed in astonishment.

Sneak out against Ralph's orders? The very idea is... well, it is quite preposterous. I could not... could I?

“Beecham will be fully occupied around dinner time with preparation for dinner. And I will be expected to be in my room dressing. He will not know if I dress for the ball instead,” Harriet began, excitement at the plan growing within her.

“Exactly! If you send a note down to Beecham telling him that you feel unwell and will take a light supper in your rooms, then you will not be missed for hours!” Jane encouraged.

“I could even instruct that my meal be left for me in the sitting room while I rest in my bedroom. He would not dare put his head in there unless I gave leave. Which I will not!”

Harriet giggled, and Jane echoed her. It was mad and reckless, but it was also exciting, both the idea of attending the ball alone and disobeying Ralph.

“So? Are we going to defy your brother and go to the ball?” Jane asked.

“Yes!” Harriet said emphatically.