Page 17 of A Virgin for the Rakish Duke (Romancing a Rake #3)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

H arriet was a prisoner once more. Oaksgrove had shrunk since her trip to London. As she meandered through its gardens, it felt as though she were a wild bird that had suddenly found itself in a very tiny cage. She so desperately wanted to stretch out her wings.

“Penny for them?” Jane asked.

Harriet looked at her friend blankly for a moment, then realized that Jane had been talking and she had heard nothing.

“I'm terribly sorry, Jane, I was wool-gathering. What was it you were saying?”

“I was telling you about my day in Hyde Park with Viscount Heybridge, Phillip, as he is to me. After the drama of your exit, he was very gallant and concerned for your well-being, and for me, given how worried I was.”

Harriet blushed, embarrassed by her own self-centredness.

Jane is courting after all, and friends should share in each other's happiness. I must be more present for her sake and not dwell too much on the fact that I have been at Oaksgrove for almost a week with no word from Jeremy.

“He seemed a very nice man,” Harriet nodded, “I look forward to meeting him again and getting to know him more. Is he a future husband?”

Now, Jane blushed, smiling prettily.

“I think he might be. He is certainly making all the right noises.”

“And does your mother approve? What of Nash?”

“Mother does, very much. Nash is not Ralph. If he did not approve, it would not concern me overmuch. He does not rule me and, in fact, will approve of any man who will join him at the card table,” Jane shrugged.

“Ralph does not rule me,” Harriet muttered, irritation flashing through her.

Her friend looked at her askance. “I do not criticize. But I would be remiss if I did not point it out—look at the lengths you had to go to for a simple promenade in Hyde Park. The lies that had to be told.”

“And yet I was there, wasn’t I? Quite against my brother’s wishes,” Harriet pointed out. “He tries to control me, I grant you as much. But I will thwart him.”

And I will be free… though perhaps I took my freedom much too far a week ago. The things I allowed Jeremy to do should not have been done. Not when our betrothal is false and possibly not even if it were genuine. I allowed him to seduce me… Or did I seduce him?

They turned in their circuit of the gardens so that they were walking towards the house.

Mr. Beecham was standing on the veranda with one of the groundsmen.

He seemed to be pointing out work that he wanted the man to do, but appeared to be looking in Harriet's direction rather frequently. She sighed in frustration.

“I feel like a fish in a too-small pond. Swimming round and round and constantly gawked at. I want to swim in the ocean!”

Jane put a comforting hand to her arm. “You will. Has the Duke not yet arranged for your next adventure?”

“Not a word, even after we...” Harriet clamped her teeth shut around the confession. Even to Jane, she could not speak aloud what she and Jeremy had done.

In public. On my back with my skirts around my waist and my stockings on the floor. Was I taken advantage of? Now that he has had me, has he lost interest?

That new thought struck her like a hammer.

It tightened her stomach and left her feeling an emptiness within that made her want to cry.

She thought of his cruel, handsome, savage face.

Of his strength. Of how it felt to be held tightly in his arms. The thought of some other woman experiencing that was torture.

The thought of being left to rot in the gilded cage of Oaksgrove was almost worse!

Do I miss him , or the freedom he gave me?

She and Jeremy had waited together in Mrs. Painter's dressing room while Ralph and his lady friend discussed dresses for an hour.

Eventually, they had slipped away through Mrs. Painter's private apartment above the shop, descending a staircase at the rear of the building and running through narrow back streets and alleys to put distance between themselves and her brother.

They had laughed as they ran, and Harriet had never felt so liberated.

Jeremy had later admitted he had no concept of where he was, having taken turns and streets at random in their flight. It had amplified Harriet's sense of freedom. They had been running into the unknown. Maybe they would collide with the river. Or straight into a band of footpads!

“After you…?” Jane prompted.

Harriet slammed back to the present. “After my recovery, we walked for a while. Took a tour of Oxford Street and then a jumble of places that I cannot even remember. We talked and turned at random. I could not tell you where we ended up.”

“That sounds almost romantic. Phillip is very much more conventional. His brother Edmund is a priest. My dear Phillip also trained for the clergy before he inherited his title and decided against the priesthood, but he still behaves very much as though he is a man of the cloth. It would be nice to have a bit of unconventional excitement as you have found.”

“ Briefly . Remember, my excitement is only a temporary thing until Jeremy secures his property. Then he will move on, doubtless.”

Harriet wondered at the sadness such a thought provoked in her, and again, wondered if it was grief for the loss of a man or the loss of her freedom.

Abruptly, she found herself growing bitter. Jeremy had abandoned her! Jane was preparing to settle down with a husband who sounded not too far removed from monkhood, and Beecham was still finding reasons to be outside watching over her. His eyes were as galling as sand under her dress.

“Mr Beecham!” she called out, “Are there no duties requiring your attention? You seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time standing about watching me.”

Jane squeezed her arm, doubtless concerned about the angry tone in her friend's voice. Beecham inclined his head gravely.

“Many duties within and without the house, Lady Harriet. I assure you that I do not watch you, merely occasionally look in your direction.”

“Kindly confine yourself to duties within the house for a while, then. And to the rooms that don’t happen to possess south-facing windows,” Harriet snapped wryly.

It was the south aspect of the house that faced the gardens, and she would not have Beecham withdraw into the house only to stand at a south-facing window, watching her.

“I will do my duty as specified by His Lordship, Lady Harriet,” Beecham intoned.

The emphasis on her title of Lady contrasted with her brother's Lordship irritated her. It was a clear rebuke to her for daring to give him orders. Harriet's frustration boiled over. She smiled tightly and then snatched her friend’s arm.

“Come, Jane, let me show you the stables. Ralph has acquired some fine new animals since you last saw them.”

Without allowing her friend or the butler a chance to protest, she marched off around the house towards the stable yard. Harriet had a plan. It was reckless, but she could not bear to be cooped up for another minute, wondering if she had been used and abandoned.

As soon as they were out of earshot, she whispered, “Jane, do you know how to get to Penhaligon Manor?”

Her friend frowned. “Why, yes. It is not far. An hour's drive in the carriage, I believe. Harriet, do not tell me you are thinking of going there! That would let the cat out of the bag, wouldn't it?”

“I can prepare the trap myself, and I will not tell Beecham where I am going. If asked, I simply drove you home.”

Jane laughed. “You are becoming quite the rebel. And to think that I had to persuade you to sneak away to the Duke of Chelmsford's ball a fortnight ago!”

“And to think that you are courting a monk! We seem to have switched roles,” Harriet giggled.

Now that she was planning an escape, her mood had considerably lightened. The prospect of escaping Oaksgrove was like a stiff draught of brandy, leaving her heady, even giddy.

Jane stood by as Harriet harnessed two horses to the trap.

She had watched the stable hands do it often enough.

They watched while forking hay and currying the other horses.

She would not ask them to do it lest they incur the wrath of Beecham for aiding her escape.

After the work was done, she checked and then rechecked.

One of the older lads gave her a nod as he walked past with a bucket of oats, giving his approval of the job she had done.

That is good. If he thinks it a job well done, then I have done it right. There is no danger.

“Shall we go?” she asked Jane, who laughed again.

“Indeed. I shall try and direct us, but do not blame me if we end up in Yorkshire. I am no navigator!”

“So, you see, Penhaligon, we must be certain of your character before we can consider selling such a dear property to you. The Opera House is the apple of my dear wife's eye and very precious to us both.”

“I quite understand,” Jeremy replied to the Earl of Sutton.

The men stood facing each other across the billiards table, each holding a cue. Alfred Winchester, the Earl of Sutton, was taking careful aim as he spoke, before releasing his shot and sending a ball careering into a pocket. He chuckled to himself, looking around the table for the next shot.

Jeremy smiled as he gripped his own cue with white knuckles. The smile concealed gritted teeth. He glanced across the room at Simon Winchester, who sat across a table from his mother, a tea set between them.

“Young Simon's concerns are, we have decided, to be taken seriously,” Lady Margaret said, sipping delicately.

The young Simon concerned, was lounging in his chair as though at home. He grinned at Jeremy, who retained a fixed smile lest he scowl.

He conspires against me. And who has aided him in that? He did not do this alone. Not unless he has been camped out, spying on me.

“The allegation—which it is noted that you strenuously deny—that you have been romantically involved with a divorcee and a French divorcee at that,” Lady Margaret chirped with her chin raised high, “it is an indication of character, and a man of low moral fiber cannot be a suitable owner for a palace of the arts.”

“Though I should emphasize,” Sutton lined up for his next shot, before potting another ball, “we do believe you.

“But the fact that such allegations can be made must be taken as a judgment of character. After all, the Archbishop of Canterbury would never be linked to a French divorcee, would he?” the Earl chuckled. “Pass the chalk, would you, old chap?”

Jeremy did so, all the while thinking of the time he had seen the Archbishop at Medmenham Abbey, the last time he had attended a meeting of the Hellfire Club. If only the sanctimonious pair knew.

“I understand,” Jeremy gritted, staring at the table. He was losing at that game and the one that really mattered.

He kept his eyes away from Simon, doubting his ability to control his temper if Simon smirked at him again.

Is it Harriet? She has met Eloise by her own admission.

We have clashed since we met. I did put her in an invidious position and then essentially blackmailed her with the knowledge that she should not have been at the Chelmsford Ball.

Is this her revenge? Or has she been offered something in return?

The idea that she was his betrayer cut at him, leaving a yawning void within him.

Such a rare beauty she was. So keen to experience and so savoring of those experiences.

Her innocence, combined with her wanton passion, was a heady brew.

Being in her company was like a stiff swallow of potent, vintage brandy.

She made his head buzz with reckless abandon.

By God, but I was intimate with her in a changing room in an Oxford Street draper's with her brother a few yards away. That was reckless even for me.

The Winchesters had appeared at Penhaligon after writing to him three days prior.

That letter had expressed the desire for a meeting to address concerns that had arisen about his proposed purchase of the Opera House.

He had thought about nothing else in the meantime.

And after enduring a late breakfast with them, in which the conversation remained steadfastly mundane until they retired to the billiard room, Lady Margaret had accompanied the men, unusually, and that had told Jeremy all he needed to know about the nature of the conversation that would be had.

Simon had convinced his parents to think twice. Had his appearance at Hyde Park been an attempt to separate him from Harriet, presenting Eloise to Harriet, and perhaps forcing her to reject Jeremy out of jealousy? Jeremy's head spun. He needed time to regroup and think.

“But all is not lost, old man,” Sutton said as he potted his third ball in a row.

“Prove to us your character, and the deal is done, to use a current vulgarity,” Lady Margaret added. “Your lovely fiancée is an excellent start, but many rogues have been engaged to upstanding young women. Alone, it is not enough.”

“I shall endeavor to show you that you are dealing with a Penhaligon worthy of the title,” Jeremy said earnestly and with a broad smile that he hoped looked genuine. Inside, his stomach churned.

How do I dispel a reputation for being a rake that has been thoroughly well-earned?