Page 12 of A Virgin for the Rakish Duke (Romancing a Rake #3)
CHAPTER TWELVE
“ W hy, what a pleasant surprise to see you again, Penhaligon!”
Jeremy turned in surprise at the sound of Simon Winchester's voice.
He had assumed that the son would be with the parents, at their home, not here in London.
Then, through his surprise, he registered the term of address that Winchester had used.
Jeremy bit back a hard response, which would have reminded Simon Winchester that he was not yet an Earl and only his father had the right to use such a familiar term with Jeremy.
He smiled tightly instead.
Harriet had walked on a few paces but now paused, smiling politely as Simon approached.
“Winchester, it is indeed unexpected ,” Jeremy greeted, baring teeth in his bright, welcoming smile.
“And Lady Harriet. Your fiancée, I take it,” Simon added, bowing to Harriet, who inclined her head in response.
“Your father gave no inclination of returning so soon to town the other evening,” Jeremy noted innocently. “Else, I’d have extended an invitation myself.”
Simon grinned wickedly. “He did not. My mother and father remain in Essex at their illustrious abode. I arrived alone to meet someone. What a coincidence that I chose today and Hyde Park of all places for my meeting. As did you.”
Jeremy suddenly wondered if it was a coincidence at all.
Simon had already made it clear that he did not wish his parents to sell the Opera House.
Was this part of some ploy to undermine Jeremy and his bid?
So preoccupied was he trying to uncover Simon's motive that he did not notice when the young man approached Harriet and offered his arm.
“I noticed that you walk in company with your betrothed, but not on his arm. May I offer mine, at least until my companion makes her appearance?” Simon said, warmly.
Harriet blinked, glanced at Jeremy, and then smiled, accepting the gesture.
“Are you joining us, Penhaligon?” Simon asked.
Jeremy suddenly realized what he had just allowed to happen and found himself trapped.
He could insist that Harriet release Simon's arm, but that would cause a scene—at best, he would look foolish, at worst, he would look like an insecure suitor.
There was no reason why the young man could not offer his arm to support Harriet when Jeremy had not.
“Of course, forgive me, I was woolgathering,” he muttered, forcing the scowl from his face.
He walked on Harriet's other side as she held Simon's left arm. Ahead of them, Jane Sullivan and her companion approached, a broad-shouldered Scotsman with the sound of Oxford underlying his Scottish brogue. He and Jane had been introduced to Jeremy when they had arrived at Hyde Park earlier.
“Have we acquired a new member for our band, then?” Philip Hamilton howled in a loud, friendly voice.
“We have! May I introduce Simon Winchester,” Harriet chimed.
There were introductions all around, and a look passed between Harriet and Jane that Jeremy caught. Jane pointedly avoided looking at Jeremy, and Harriet was trying to conceal flushed cheeks. Philip and Jane walked on ahead while Simon followed with Harriet.
He was chattering away, and Jeremy, distracted, was not following the conversation until he heard, “Of course I think the French are marvelous people! Their former Emperor and his dictatorial ambitions should not reflect badly on them. A good friend of mine happens to be French, if you must know.”
As he spoke, Simon peeped over Harriet's head and caught Jeremy's eye. The mention of the French caught Jeremy's attention.
“French, did you say?” Harriet spoke before Jeremy could.
“Why, yes, and a resident not far from your own home, I believe. Mademoiselle Eloise de Rouvroy . Residing at Bynacre Priory. Have you met?”
“Why, yes… I have met her,” Harriet said quietly.
Jeremy looked at her sharply.
“You have?”
“Indeed. While Jane and I were walking last week. She was coming the other way on her way to Oaksgrove.”
“For what purpose?”
“I do not know. I think to simply make the acquaintance of my brother and grandmother,” Harriet shrugged.
“I am surprised you aren’t familiar with her, Penhaligon,” Simon probed with bonhomie that made Jeremy's blood boil, “considering your reputation.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Jeremy demanded, coming to a halt.
There are plots at work here. Simon Winchester and Eloise de Rouvroy are certainly in league. Can Harriet be involved as well?
“Only that you and your confederates are well known for your love of the sporting life,” Simon answered, feigning confusion, “…in all the forms that sport takes for a gentleman.”
Jeremy resumed his walking, clenching his fists behind his back and gritting his teeth behind a smile that was merely a movement of facial muscles.
That alone is grounds for me calling him out, but I cannot, and he knows it. Now I look weak in front of Harriet. Not that it matters. I am not trying to win her.
Ahead, Philip and Jane walked with their heads together, laughing and talking.
They walked in an entirely proper way, arm in arm, but displayed to the world that their closeness was the result of love.
As he watched, Philip disengaged an arm and touched Jane at the small of her back.
It was a gentle, subtle, and brief touch, enough to let her know his feelings while remaining so small that it was simple for an observer to miss.
Glancing to the side, he felt an unexpected pang of jealousy which he repressed brutally.
I have nothing to feel jealous over. I care nothing for Harriet except as a means to an end. Anything else is simply a complication.
But the jealousy grew in ardor, like a surging river that would not be diverted.
He watched Harriet laughing at a comment Simon made and gritted his teeth.
He saw Simon's head lean towards her, and Jeremy's fingernails bit into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fists tighter.
Was she leaning her head towards Simon, the better to share a conspiratorial whisper? Or even a kiss?
Harriet raised a dainty hand to fan herself; the sun was directly overhead, hot in a cloudless July sky. She was tossing her hair, revealing her swan-like neck to Simon.
Jeremy's control snapped.
It is not jealousy but a matter of pride! I am supposed to be pretending at being betrothed to her. And she to me. This is destroying my plan and breaking our agreement!
He told himself that was the sole reason for his anger. Jealousy had nothing to do with it. Nothing. He opened his mouth to speak, but at that very moment, Harriet cried out, dancing away from Simon, waving her arms as though to ward him away.
Has the blackguard taken advantage and touched her inappropriately?
Protective anger surged in Jeremy at once, and he stepped between Harriet and Simon, taking her firmly by her upper arms and pulling her close.
“Harriet! You are quite safe. What has happened?” he demanded even as Simon attempted to intervene.
Jeremy fought the urge to burn his entire plan and strike Simon on the nose, horrified that he knew he would actually do it if it turned out he had overstepped the mark.
“A bee!” Harriet cried, “I saw it coming, and I think it went into my hair.”
Simon burst out laughing. Jeremy glared at him over his shoulder before turning back to Harriet.
“A bee cannot hurt you with its sting. It would kill itself and it knows it,” he said calmly.
“No!” Harriet cried, “you don't understand. I was stung once as a girl. I am susceptible to the venom. Even one sting could leave me unable to breathe.”
Jeremy frowned, never having heard the like but believing the sincerity in Harriet's voice.
He looked over her hair, then moved it aside to look beneath, studying her pale neck and delicate ears.
He ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, as though tenderly searching for an injury, taking care not to press too heavily.
Harriet stood still, but her eyes were wide and her breathing hard.
He reached her hands, running his fingers over hers and then running his hands up the inside of her arms and down her sides, searching for any sign of a small, shuffling insect.
With the measured movement of his hands over her body, Harriet seemed to calm, and her trembling eased. Finally, Jeremy's hands reached her waist. He held her there for a moment, tightly enough that she would feel the pressure of his hands and hopefully be comforted.
“There is no sign of a bee. It must have been frightened and flown off,” he said at last.
She nodded, eyes still flicking side to side with every breath of air. Then they rose to meet Jeremy's. He smiled at her, and she smiled hesitantly in return.
“For the second time today, you come to my rescue,” she whispered.
Jeremy was dimly aware of Simon shifting behind him, clearing his throat as though searching for a way to interrupt.
“Ah, speak of the devil! I believe you know the Mademoiselle de Rouvroy ?” Simon finally chirped with a tone of triumph.
Jeremy began to turn in the direction that he was now looking, but at that moment, Harriet cried out. She slapped a hand to her neck, and Jeremy saw something small and black fall to the ground.
A bee.
She met his eyes. Her face went white, and her eyes as wide as saucers. Her terror was contagious. Jeremy's skin crawled, and his stomach turned to ice.
“I say, Penhaligon, you do know the...” Simon was saying, actually putting a hand to Jeremy's arm to get his attention.
Jeremy shrugged him off, never taking his eyes from Harriet.
“You will be fine, Harriet,” he said, “it is just a bee, and you are much older than you were then. You were probably vulnerable as a child because...”
But he could see the redness at her throat, the swelling which had started there and was spreading. Harriet knew it too. Her breathing was growing labored.
She needs to be seen by a doctor. Immediately!