Page 6 of A Virgin for the Rakish Duke (Romancing a Rake #3)
CHAPTER SIX
“ W hat in heavens became of you the other night, Harriet? I looked for you but could not find you anywhere,” Jane Sullivan whispered.
They walked on Danbury Common, preceded by Jane's mother, Lady Elizabeth Sullivan, and by Harriet's grandmother. Three days had passed since the ball. A train of servants followed with wicker hampers carrying the picnic that the Sullivans and Tisdales would enjoy at the Sandon Brook. This was the limit of Harriet’s world and permitted by Ralph only if she were accompanied by her grandmother.
“I retired early,” Harriet lied.
“How? Our carriage had not moved an inch when I eventually left.”
“I walked home, though none but you know it,” she quickly said.
Jane gaped. “Harriet, I do declare that you have gone from sheltered and innocent to daring beyond belief. It is five miles from Oaksgrove to Chelmsford, and at night too!”
Harriet's grandmother glanced back over her shoulder, smiling benevolently at her granddaughter. Harriet smiled back.
“Please keep your voice down, Jane,” she bit through her smile, “Grandmama does not know, obviously.”
“Your brother would have a fit if he knew. Very well, I will not be critical of you for doing what I have been urging you to do,” Jane giggled.
“Ralph will never know. He is away for the best part of a month and will not hear of anything that goes on in Essex,” Harriet said firmly.
They followed a path beaten by many feet out of the long grass of the common. To one side, sheep calmly grazed, used to sharing the site of their meals with humans and barely twitching an ear as they passed.
“Lady Sullivan tells me that the Duke of Chelmsford's ball was a very enjoyable occasion,” Agnes said, turning to address Jane.
“Indeed, it was. And there is already talk of it becoming annual. A fixture in the Essex social calendar,” Jane replied.
“Such a shame that you were not able to attend, Harriet. But good that you will surely have another chance next year,” Lady Sullivan, Jane’s mother, said.
“Oh! And did I tell you, Agnes, that someone broke a priceless vase in His Grace's library? Over a thousand years old and shattered into as many pieces.”
Harriet felt her blood run cold. Jane looked at her curiously as Agnes turned to Lady Sullivan with a scandalized expression.
“Does he have any idea who did it?” she asked.
“The Duke of Penhaligon...” Lady Sullivan began, “and his betrothed...”
Harriet's heart stopped. Her mouth went dry. Jane was trying to get her attention by tugging on her sleeve, but she could not divert her focus.
“...were both present in the library. Duke Penhaligon claims a gentleman much the worse for wear from drink stumbled in and broke the vase in his staggering,” Lady Sullivan added.
“And his betrothed?” Agnes arched a brow, “Who is she, and what does she say? I have heard many tales of the Duke of Penhaligon, and he does not strike me as the most reliable of witnesses.”
Lady Sullivan slowed mid-stride, eyeing her companion oddly, then glancing back at Harriet.
“Why, his betrothed is your granddaughter,” she stated, frowning.
Jane gaped at Harriet, whose face had flamed into a bright blush.
“I did not think that I would be the one to tell you, Agnes,” Lady Sullivan said gently.
Agnes looked confused for a moment and then put a hand to her forehead as though suffering a moment's memory lapse.
“Sorry, Elizabeth. Did you say the Duke of Penhaligon? I must have utterly misheard and thought you were talking of a different gentleman entirely. Yes, of course, Harriet is currently engaged to him.”
Her eyes were sharp on Harriet's face. All eyes were on Harriet.
“Though, now that I think on it, I do find it curious why you claimed you were unable to attend, Harriet,” Lady Sullivan continued, more curious than suspicious.
“I—I attended briefly but saw none of the dancing and left early. A touch of mal de tete,” Harriet said, “apologies, I thought Jane had told you.”
“I'm sure I did, Mama,” Jane protested, coming immediately to Harriet's aid.
Her mother rolled her eyes and turned away, resuming her promenade through the waving grass.
“Doubtless it was delivered in the usual breathless jumble, and I have misunderstood,” Lady Sullivan murmured. “So, how long have you been engaged to the Duke, Harriet? I was surprised to learn it has been kept neatly under wraps.”
“Not for very long. Very recently, in fact,” Harriet muttered, faintly.
This is beyond all tolerance! I refused to go along with his harebrained scheme, but find myself embroiled in it anyway. He has allowed people to believe the lie he told!
“Oh, you know how our Ralph can be,” Agnes said as though she were talking of something of no consequence at all. “I did not speak on it as Ralph has not made the official announcement yet. It seems that Penhaligon has preempted him. Though I suppose that is his prerogative.”
They resumed their meandering, eventually reaching a place near the gently babbling stream that bordered the village of Danbury to the south. The servants laid out a blanket and opened hampers to produce plates and cutlery as well as an assortment of cold cuts of meat, bread, cheese, and jam.
“I think Hattie and I will walk further on across the Overshot Bridge to work up more of an appetite,” Jane announced as the two older ladies were settling themselves on cushions.
Harriet caught her grandmother's eye as she followed Jane.
Though Agnes could not speak freely in front of Lady Sullivan, Harriet knew that an explanation would be required very, very soon.
She and Jane walked on, along the stream and towards the little stone bridge that carried the Priory road south to Bynacre Priory, just visible a mile in the distance.
Oh, Jeremy Cavendish! You have landed me in a pot of boiling water!
“Do not even think of telling me that you left the ball because you were fatigued or feeling unwell,” Jane hissed in a fierce whisper, “now that I know you became engaged that night. And to what a man! Handsome, yes. But reliable? Faithful? The man is a notorious rake, Hattie! What were you thinking!”
“I did not become engaged, and I will tell grandmama as such,” Harriet protested. “I pretended to be in order to avoid a scandalous situation."
“What could possibly be so scandalous to require that of you!” her friend demanded.
“I… I was...” Harriet blushed even deeper, hiding her face behind her hand, “I… was shackled to him,” she whispered, finally.
Jane looked at her blankly. Harriet held up her hand.
“I was quite literally chained to him, and before we could untether ourselves, we were discovered by our hosts and the Earl and Countess of Sutton,” Harriet explained.
Jane's jaw dropped and she laughed in disbelief.
“The priggish Winchesters ? They must have been abed after witnessing such a sight! And how did you come to be chained to Penhaligon?”
They had reached and crossed the ancient stone bridge, passing a couple of village boys who were dropping twigs into the stream and loudly trying to predict which twig would float furthest and fastest.
“A case of mistaken identity. He mistook me for a lady who, according to him, would have deeply loved this particular… game .”
Jane tilted her head as if considering. “There are worse men to be chained to, I suppose. Purely in terms of looks and physical stature anyway.”
Now, it was Harriet's turn to gape.
“You are incorrigible!” she protested.
But she found herself reminded of the feel of his body pressed hard against hers.
Of his fierce embrace, exploring hands, and heated kisses.
Jane was watching her, and she cleared her throat, looking away.
They descended to the far side of the bridge and followed the road, which meandered between clumps of trees to the old priory building beyond.
It was no longer a house of worship but instead was a residence belonging to an absent landlord and periodically rented out.
A woman was walking down the road in the opposite direction, but was far enough away that she could not overhear their conversation.
“It sounds like you had quite the adventure. Well, that was the reason for sneaking you out, after all,” her friend shrugged. “I take it your grandmother did not mind. Or did she truly not know before now?”
“I… I think she suspected. Grandmama figures out everything eventually. She hinted to me about it over breakfast yesterday. She will not tell Ralph. Or, at least, she would not have told him before. With today’s revelations…” Harriet grimaced in despair.
Jane chuckled, then with a wicked smile, asked, “And before you became shackled together… did the mistaken identity result in anything else happening between the two of you? It doesn't seem the kind of thing a man does to a woman as a game without some... preliminary activity , one might say.”
If Harriet thought she was blushing before, it was nothing compared to the color she became now. Jane laughed and hugged her friend sideways.
“Good for you, Hattie! A little kissing is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of. I, myself, kissed more than one gentleman at the Chelmsford ball and do not feel in the least bit guilty.”
But did your kisses involve tongues? Or hands touching places that should not be touched except by a husband?
Harriet decided not to disclose to Jane how far the interaction with Jeremy had escalated.
“He asked me to continue the charade of the engagement,” she added instead. “It is supposedly important for some business agreement he seeks with the Winchesters. Can you believe that? He wants me to pretend to be his betrothed for an entire month!”
Jane pursed her lips. “In exchange for what?”
Harriet was taken aback by the odd question, thinking that her friend would simply agree that the proposition was beyond the pale.
“Why... I do not think he actually offered me anything. Except that I should experience freedom for the month, out of Ralph's control.”
“Which is what you have dreamed of for years, have you not?
To be free to experience the world, to have fun, and be out from under your brother's thumb. You have always said so, at least,” Jane tipped her head, a sly smile tugging at her mouth.
“Well, now you have your chance, Hattie! Is he expecting anything from you during this period of play-acting as his fiancée? Any… favors ?”
“We did not discuss it,” Harriet answered stiffly.
No, but we certainly enacted some scandalous behavior, and that was bad enough...
“Then our first step is to make your terms very clear.” Jane spun on her heel to face Harriet, hands planting firmly on her hips. “Boundaries must be set, and his expectations of you outlined— precisely .”
Harriet stopped in the middle of the path, too.
The woman walking in the opposite direction was closer now.
She wore a white dress and carried a parasol over her shoulder.
Her hair was dark and fell down her back in lustrous waves.
She seemed to be watching Harriet, who could not spare any attention from the madness that Jane was proposing.
“Jane, I am not going through with this,” Harriet muttered between gritted teeth.
“Of course you are. This is what you've always wanted. Besides, it will be good for you,” Jane replied.
Harriet was about to protest further when the dark-haired woman crossed the road to them.
“ Eh, pardonnez ,” she said in a thick French accent, “but I am seeking the house known as Oaksgrove . Do I follow the correct road?”
Harriet stared at her for a moment, certain she had never seen this woman at the house before.
A friend of Ralph's, perhaps?
“Yes, as a matter of fact, this road will take you to Danbury, and Oaksgrove is not far beyond, ” Jane answered briskly. “As it happens, this lady is its mistress.”
Dark eyes fixed on Harriet. The woman had a lovely face, heart-shaped and pale with rosebud lips. Now, those lips pinched together tightly.
“You would be Lady Harriet Tisdale?” she asked softly.
“I am. And who might you be?” Harriet frowned.
“I am Eloise de Rouvroy,” the woman said, and waited.
When Harriet showed no recognition of the name, spots of color appeared in Eloise's cheeks.
“The name, it means nothing to you, eh? No matter. Is most… how you say… providential that I meet you here, without going all the way to your home. I think you should know, the Duke of Penhaligon—my dear Jeremy—he is forbidden, do you understand? He belongs to me, though clearly he does not yet fully… appreciate this. However, when you reject him, he will appreciate it. And you will reject him.”
The lady spoke with conviction, as though the matter were already decided. Harriet almost agreed, ready to insist there was nothing between her and Jeremy. But then, something gave her pause.
All her life, she’d had someone telling her what to do—her brother, her grandmama. Even Jane, for all her good intentions. And now this woman, sweeping in as if she had any right. Jealous, and certain she should decide her fate.
Anger flared in Harriet. It was a rare thing. She was accustomed to being deferential and submissive. But this was the last straw.
“I thank you for taking the time to come and find me. But I would not be so sure that Jeremy will be rejected. The fact that he wanted to chain me to himself tells me that he would not wish it,” Harriet said bluntly.
What am I saying! I should not be telling another soul what happened.
The anger fled from her in the blink of an eye, replaced by blind panic. She clamped her mouth shut lest she say more. Eloise's eyes widened a touch beyond grace.
“I am not accustomed to fighting over men. So there will be no fight. Merely… surrender. Yours,” she said, her voice like steel, “or I will be vindictive in my revenge, and I will destroy not only your réputation, but also the réputation of your frère.”