Page 18 of A Virgin for the Rakish Duke (Romancing a Rake #3)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

J ane proved an effective navigator, steering Harriet towards Penhaligon Manor with only a couple of wrong turns.

Harriet reveled in the feel of the wind in her hair and the liberty to take them wherever she chose.

A turning could be taken or ignored, and their destination would be changed.

Driving the trap gave her the thrill of freedom that she was craving.

As they drew within sight of the dark, brooding shape of Penhaligon Manor, Harriet felt a tightness in her chest, an anxiety that she had not felt earlier.

“Lovely place,” Jane commented with a grimace.

“I think it wears its history on its walls,” Harriet protested, “an old house will always have a lot of dark stories to tell.”

“Well defended, Harriet,” her friend added with a wry smile, “I must remember that you are firmly in the Penhaligon court next time I make a blithe comment.”

That comment struck Harriet; she had not thought she was being defensive, but the instinct to justify the way Jeremy's home looked was strong. She brought the trap to a halt in the courtyard before the entrance.

The house seemed silent; even the crows she could see atop the roof were hushed. Jane laughed nervously, licking her lips.

To show her own confidence, Harriet leaped down and then offered a hand to her friend.

They approached the front door, arm in arm, and Harriet rapped with the ancient, iron knocker.

She recognized the butler who appeared moments later, Atkins , and introduced herself and Jane.

They were shown into the entrance hall and through to a sitting room.

“A lot of ominous-looking portraits of stern men,” Jane whispered as they arrived at the place.

“Yes, they have Jeremy's look. I think they must be ancestors. They are all over the house,” Harriet replied.

“My ancestors are part of a proud lineage. All have left the Penhaligon name more famous than they found it,” Jeremy remarked, sweeping into the room through a door in the corner.

He swung it shut behind him with enough force that it slammed, reverberating through the house. Harriet smiled at the sight of him, but it faded away as she saw the thunder on his face.

“Have we caught you at a bad time?” she asked, feeling anxious while telling herself there was no need.

Except for the fact that he may yet reject me. Having enjoyed me first. But then I always knew that this was a temporary affair. No, not an affair. That was the one thing it was not supposed to be!

“Not at all. I am open to visitors today,” he grinned wolfishly. “I have to be, it seems. I am not surprised to see you after my earlier guests. I should have expected that you would be on their heels.”

Jeremy sat in a chair beside the fire, hands hanging over the arms and legs crossed in front of him. He looked like a Viking Earl, at his ease in his mead hall.

“And who were your earlier guests, Your Grace?” Jane asked.

Jeremy glared at her, making her shift in her seat uncomfortably. Harriet bristled at the Duke’s hostile attitude.

“An honest question, since you volunteered that you have had visitors today,” she defended pointedly. “If you would prefer we did not ask, then—”

“The Earl and Countess of Sutton, and their fine son, Simon. Apologies, I do not recall his courtesy title,” Jeremy interrupted with an insolent smile.

“Ah, a successful meeting, I hope. For your plans?”

Now, the glare was turned on her, but the intensity behind it was stronger. Harriet glared back, refusing to be intimidated. Inside, though, she shriveled at the notion that Jeremy now disliked her for some reason.

Is he really nothing but a vacuous rake? Using women and discarding them? Have I surrendered my honor for this man in vain?

“It was not,” Jeremy snapped, “do you not know?”

“How could I? I have only just arrived.”

“One does not need to be present if one has already been briefed as to the outcome of a meeting. I imagine the Winchesters are familiar with Oaksgrove.”

Harriet clutched at the arms of her chair to keep from surging to her feet or even wagging a finger at Jeremy.

He accuses me of going behind his back? Of conspiring against him over his wretched business?

“They have never visited us at Oaksgrove, and I have not been... briefed, as you say. I know nothing of their intentions. How could I? You never cared to disclose them.” She tried to keep her voice reasonable, but knew that she was glaring and could not help it.

“My, it is such a lovely day, I should love to take a look at the gardens,” Jane interjected, standing.

Jeremy also stood, followed by Harriet.

“Of course, I should be glad to give you a tour of the grounds,” Jeremy muttered.

“I will not hear of it, Your Grace. It seems the two of you have much to discuss, and I suddenly feel the need for open spaces and fresh air. Now, if you will excuse me.”

Jeremy bowed, and Jane took her leave. Harriet caught her arm as she reached the door.

“I'm sorry. We should leave. I did not expect this,” she whispered.

“Not a bit of it. There is some kind of a bee in his bonnet, though. I think you are best placed remaining here and seeing if you can't dislodge it, Hattie.”

She left the room, and Harriet immediately rounded on Jeremy.

“That was rude,” she shot.

“I did not invite either of you,” he pointed out.

“You did not, and I did not invite you under my skirts that I can recall,” she hissed back.

He strode towards her. “Did you not? Was it not you then who was reaching through the curtain and fondling my buttocks?”

Harriet flushed bright red, remembering her own reckless passion.

“Well… I suppose I did at that. I do not mind admitting it, though I increasingly regret even letting you kiss me. Is this how a rake divests himself of an unwanted female after he has tired of her? You ignore me for a week and then treat me like a beggar at your door!”

She strode away from him, folding her arms tightly. She looked out of the window, seeing Jane walking away from the house along a gravel path.

Poor Jane. Caught between us. She does not want to be here. She has her beau to think about, not my ridiculous mess…

“You deny knowing Simon Winchester?” Jeremy said.

“I do!” Harriet replied, turning away from the window to confront him.

“Then how did he know of Eloise de Rouvroy? You cannot deny knowing her .”

“I wish I could! She threatened me and my brother. As to how Simon Winchester knew of her... how am I to know!”

“Because only two other people knew of Eloise, and I trust both.”

“Then perhaps your trust is misplaced,” she snapped.

They had come together again, standing almost toe to toe as they argued. Jeremy's eyes blazed, and he towered over her, but she did not care. She was incensed that she was being accused of betrayal. Of lying and conspiring to... to do what? Poison a business arrangement? Why should she care enough?

“Ah, I see,” Jeremy laughed with a tone of triumph, “you sow seeds of distrust concerning my friends. The tactic of a spy.”

Harriet was left gaping at the accusation.

“Or of an innocent woman defending her honor. I am no spy. What do I have to gain from betraying you to this Simon Winchester?” she asked.

Jeremy stared at her for a long moment and then turned away with a grimace. He tugged sharply on a bell-pull and threw himself into an armchair.

“Contrast that to the question of what I have to lose,” Harriet said, “my freedom. If this arrangement of ours ends, I go back to being a virtual prisoner of my brother. And whether you believe me or not, that is the very last thing I want.”

With the next to last being losing the attentions of this infuriating but exciting man! How can I still want him after his maddening accusations? He is prickly. Too prickly to touch, let alone embrace. He is arrogant. He is... is... infuriating!

Jeremy ran his hands through his hair, leaning forward to sit with his elbows on his knees. He stared broodingly into the fireplace. A knock came at the door.

“Come in!” he barked.

When the door opened to admit the butler, Jeremy snapped.

“Brandy!”

Atkins bowed and withdrew without missing a beat, closing the door quietly behind him. Jeremy glared at Harriet.

“It is too much. They told me that my character was in question because of my association with a French divorcee. I do not deny that I have been a rake. That my morality has been questionable in the past. But it is the past. How did they know?”

Harriet paced the room.

“I do not know, but the fact that you can so readily accuse me is concerning. There must be trust between us for this arrangement to work. I am beginning to think it is over almost before it began.”

Jeremy growled, putting his chin atop his fist. He watched her from beneath lidded eyes.

“Why would you want to continue after the way I have spoken to you? Knowing of my distrust?”

Harriet stopped abruptly, and surprised herself that she could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

She blinked them away rapidly, turning her head.

But then the door opened to admit Atkins, and she had to turn away again.

This brought her into the sight of Jeremy, so she threw a hand over her face and fled the room.

What am I doing? Why am I crying? Why do I feel so bereft, so devastated? I should be glad to be free of such a suspicious, objectionable man. I am not some empty-headed, silly girl to be so giddy over a handsome face.

She was dimly aware of her name being called, but it only spurred her to run harder.

A staircase appeared in front of her, and she took the stairs two at a time, lifting her skirts as she dashed.

Heavy footsteps were following her, pounding on the creaking wood of the staircase below her heels.

She rushed along a hallway and then a crossing passage.

A door selected at random led her into a dusty storeroom filled with wooden shelves.

Another door beyond led to a narrow way of stone that smelled of must and age.