Page 10 of A Virgin for the Rakish Duke (Romancing a Rake #3)

CHAPTER TEN

H arriet watched Penhaligon Manor emerge in the distance as the carriage rounded a bend in the road.

“Oh my, it is quite the grand house,” she had murmured to herself. “A mirror to its master's personality, perhaps.”

It was of dark stone and had an antique appearance.

Crenelations along its rooftops suggested a martial function, as did the solid brick buttresses that supported towers that rose from four points around the house.

It looked like a medieval castle that had been transformed to suit the needs of a lord who had no need to defend against enemies any longer.

Trees surrounded it and obscured her view as they climbed the slope atop which the house sat. The woods were dark, deep shadows making them seem foreboding. Harriet shivered.

I must get a grip of myself. Woods are dark, and old stone is always dark. It does not signify anything. I know where I am going and who I am going to.

The carriage passed through a tall gate of iron-banded wood and stopped before an imposing stone portico. Ivy clambered over the walls around it and even across some of the windows. As Harriet alighted, Jeremy emerged. His eyes went over her critically.

“It is hardly the garment I would have chosen for such an evening,” he muttered.

“And a good evening to you, too, Your Grace,” she smiled drily. “This is a perfectly fine dress. Well made by an excellent seamstress.”

“It is not a patch on the gown you wore to the Chelmsford ball. I had something like that in mind. Not the same garment, obviously. Lady Margaret has already seen you in that one, it would not do to wear the same again.”

“Do you think that every family has the means to buy expensive ball gowns and then wear them once?” Harriet demanded, planting her fists on her hips.

He frowned, as though that was exactly what he had been thinking.

“I am here, and this is the best gown that I have,” she finished swiftly.

Jeremy reached into his waistcoat pocket and took out a fobwatch, consulted it for a moment, and then shrugged.

“We have an hour before the Winchesters arrive. I have a solution, I believe. Follow me.”

She bit her tongue as she followed him into the house, wanting to give him a good piece of her mind for his insolence.

I hope that my agreeing to this secret arrangement will not mean that he now rides roughshod over my feelings, believing me to be trapped. I would rather risk Ralph's ire by telling him I disobeyed first.

Penhaligon Manor was a brooding place of dark wood and sullen portraits.

Dusty swords hung on the walls as they ascended the stairs with battered suits of armor on the landings.

Sunlight filtered through the ivy that seemed to be trying to encapsulate the building, adding to the feeling of glowering age.

Jeremy led her to the second floor and along a passageway, opening a door at the end.

Harriet found herself in a room that was empty except for a large wardrobe and a dressing table. A row of windows looked out over a tumbling arrangement of gardens bordered by the dark woods.

Jeremy swung open the wardrobe doors, and Harriet gasped as she saw that it was stuffed with glittering gowns in a rainbow of colors.

“Oh my, I have never seen such a collection,” she gasped.

He shrugged. “I fancy that they should fit you, and at least they are of the correct standard. I will send up a maid to help you dress.”

He turned on his heel, and without thinking, Harriet caught his arm.

“Have I done something to offend? Besides my terrible dress sense?” she smiled, trying to make light.

Jeremy glanced down at her, and she thought she saw a softening in his face, just for a moment.

“No, you have not. It is merely the weight of the occasion,” he said after a moment's hesitation.

That hesitation was enough to tell Harriet that he was not being completely honest with her. She could not think what it was she had done or said that could have put him out of sorts, though.

Why am I worrying so much over it? If he has decided to take offense because I wore a dress that he did not think grand enough, then it should be no concern of mine. Does he not need me more than I need him?

“I am sorry that I did not quite grasp the etiquette of the situation. I am unused to social occasions such as these. My brother rarely let me attend them,” she said, swallowing her irritation and trying to keep the peace.

Jeremy bowed his head, but she could spot the tension that kept his neck and shoulders rigid.

She felt an urge to reach out to him, to work her fingers into the knots of tension in his muscles and try to caress them away.

That led her to imagine him with his shirt off, again.

The fact that she knew what he looked like bare from the waist up was thrilling.

She felt her cheeks heat, and she turned away at once before she could go too far down the road of remembering what had happened between them just the day before.

We made an agreement. I insisted upon it. I will not be used by a rake as an object of his pleasure!

That thought had to be dismissed immediately, too, for the notion of being his plaything—something she already, in a sense, was —sent shivers up and down her spine. Her breath caught in her throat, and she tried to conceal the fact by coughing delicately.

“Excuse me, this room is rather dusty.”

The sentiment was true; of this floor and this room. The duke scanned about guiltily.

“The dining room has been the focus of my staff. This floor is little used, and this room, never.”

“But these gowns are not old. By the style and the condition, I should say just a few weeks. Whom did they belong to?”

“They belong to me. I bought them,” he answered with a snap, “and they have been here for six months if you must know.”

Harriet thinned her lips. “I was asking out of curiosity only. For a man who must playact at being affianced, you have a well-stocked lady's wardrobe. As a married man would. It is natural that I would ask.”

He held up his left hand to show the absence of a wedding band.

“Unmarried and with no interest in entering such a state. I will let you choose a suitable dress now. I have matters to attend to.”

With that, he strode from the room. Harriet stamped her foot and stuck out her tongue at his back.

“ I will not put up with his prickly demeanor. Freedom is not worth it! ”

With an infuriated sigh, she began taking out the dresses, laying them over the dressing table, one atop the other. The fabrics felt soft and supple under her fingers, and the colors were radiant. The truth was that deep down, she felt that freedom was worth it.

When did Ralph ever treat me to a new dress? Twice since my debut. When have I been privileged with the opportunity to wear a new gown? I cannot even recall for certain…

A knock came at the door then, and a young maid stepped inside. Dark hair framed a round, dimpled face, wide eyes the same deep shade. Harriet judged her no more than eighteen—perhaps younger by a year or two.

“His Grace sent me to help you dress, milady,” she said, somewhat breathlessly.

“Yes, I must find something more suitable than this before dinner,” Harriet groused back. “Oh, and please, let us not partake in honorifics during my short stay here. My name is Harriet Tisdale. What is your name?”

“…Oh! Dorothy, milady,” the girl curtsied clumsily.

“Right, Dorothy. I have narrowed down my choices, but would welcome your thoughts.”

“Well... Harriet ,” the maid began tentatively, skimming the fabrics over with a critical eye. “I was a dressmaker's apprentice before I entered service, and I think the first two would flatter your figure far less than the third.”

Harriet considered the two dresses that Dorothy had identified. She had liked the look of both based on their colors, but Dorothy went on to point out how the woman they had been crafted for had a fuller bust than Harriet, with a touch more accentuated hips.

“Whereas this one,” the girl continued, gaining confidence, “has a more forgiving cut. It will disguise those differences and look as though it were crafted for you alone.” She drew the gown from the wardrobe, holding it up for inspection.

It was plainer than the other two Harriet had selected, but with her mundane knowledge on fashion, she rather trusted the confidence in the maid’s manner.

“Very well. I shall choose this one,” she finally declared.

“I think the dark green would complement your eyes.”

Harriet smiled brightly. “Done. I feel fortunate that the Duke employs such an expert to furnish his wardrobes.”

Dorothy blushed. “I was employed because His Grace wished to flatter a lady who preferred lovely gowns. He learned that my employer had gone out of business and that I needed employment.”

“That was kind of him. Who was this busty, hippy lady?” Harriet asked, keeping her tone light but actually keen to know.

It should not matter to me. It does not matter to me. I shall be Jeremy's fiancée for a month, and after that shall probably never see him again.

That thought brought a pang to her that she tried to ignore, dismissing it as pure foolishness.

“They were engaged… I think. Leastways, that’s the feeling I got. Why else buy so many gowns? Oh—heavens, I’m running my mouth again. Please excuse me, milady—um, Harriet . I always speak before I think, and I’d hate for you to think me a gossip.”

Harriet had turned to let the maid unbutton her dress and now looked back over her shoulder at the tone of panic that suddenly filled the young girl’s voice.

“Do not worry. You’ve not overstepped, and I’ll not breathe a word of it to the Duke,” she said gently.

“Thank you. That is kind of you.”

Harriet found herself wanting to learn more of this woman that Jeremy had been enamored with six months before, but she would not upset Dorothy further. She pushed her bodice down to her waist as the maid began to undo her corset.

Just then, the door of the room burst open, and Jeremy swept in like a gale.

“They’re early! Damnation, but they’re early! Dorothy, go and find Mr. Atkins and inform him that our guests are arriving imminently. Now!”

Dorothy all but bolted as the duke crossed to the window, slamming his fist against the stone sill in frustration.

“It was sheer luck I happened to be in the north tower with a clear view of the road. I saw their carriage approaching. Who in this county attends an occasion early for heaven's sake?”

He turned back to Harriet and faltered at her state of undress. She had calmly continued to remove her dress and was now folding it neatly. His eyes widened.

“You are not dressed?”

“Evidently,” she returned. “Only just noticed, have you?”

She stood in corset and petticoat, which under his gaze felt far more indecent than bare skin. Heat flared in her cheeks. The cool air ghosting over her body made her feel completely nude before his penetrating eyes.

“Harriet,” he began, stepping closer, “I needn’t remind you of the importance of this evening.”

There was such intensity in his eyes that Harriet felt the urge to step away, as though that fire might burn her.

God’s grace, what can be so important about a property? There are many, if they do not wish to sell to you, then buy another!

Steeling herself, she stood firm.

“All I understand is what you have told me. Now, if you wish me to hurry, then bring back Dorothy; else help me yourself.”

For the briefest of seconds, she braved his gaze and felt as though she were fighting a war. Finally, he nodded once, and she turned her back to him, lifting her tresses from the nape of her neck.

“I must replace this corset with the one designed for the dress I have chosen. Could you finish undoing it for me?”

The back of her neck tingled, bare to him.

Could she feel the heat of his nearness on her skin?

Did his fingers just graze her hair? Was that a slow breath, drawn as if to taste her?

Dozens of thoughts sent her heartbeat skittering.

Her pulse thudded in her ears, and she forced herself to hold her composure—breathing slow, even.

Determined to betray nothing of the thrill coiling low in her belly.

The old corset came away, and she reached for the one meant for her new gown, wrapping it around herself.

“Tie it tight,” she instructed, acutely aware of his cool hands against her back.

She stood stock still as he drew the laces in.

“This would take some time to undo,” he whispered wryly. “A man might lose his ardor and fall asleep.”

Harriet laughed despite herself. “Not a problem you and I shall face.”

There was a moment of silence, and in that flicker, she heard the unintentional double edge to her words. She kept her gaze lowered, finishing the rest of her dressing without comment. Jeremy stepped back once the corset was secured, only to move in again to fasten the buttons of her gown.

Those fractals of silent contact sent thrills through Harriet's body. She finally examined herself in the mirror above the dressing table, admiring the fine fabric and its color.

“The lady this was made for was extremely lucky,” she whispered.

Her eyes met Jeremy's in the mirror. The question hung between them unspoken. From somewhere below came the rumble of a carriage.

“The Winchesters have arrived. We must go down and greet them,” he uttered, offering his arm.