Page 8 of A Virgin for the Rakish Duke (Romancing a Rake #3)

CHAPTER EIGHT

J eremy tried hard to keep his eyes from Harriet.

Even dressed as plainly as she was, she was a magnet to his gaze.

The simplicity of her dress merely emphasized her beauty.

He kept stealing glances whenever Ralph's attention was directed elsewhere.

In those split moments, he found that her eyes were seeking his, too.

Well, before they were darting away the moment she met his gaze.

So, she was not permitted to be at the Chelmsford ball, indeed.

Ralph does not allow her to attend such things without his company.

Surely that must chafe. It is not much different from being kept a prisoner.

It could yet be something I could use to my advantage to persuade her—to offer her a taste of freedom.

Ralph talked about business a great deal. When he wasn't embroiled in finance and logistics, the conversation veered to the restoration of his house and the gardens. Jeremy found himself painting on a smile of polite interest, nodding and making the right noises to veil his sheer boredom.

Reuben and Nash may be rakes and inveterate carousers, but their company is at least enjoyable. Ralph has become an utter bore since inheriting the Earldom of Oaksgrove.

The door to the breakfast room creaked open, and the Dowager Countess swam inside. Jeremy rose as she took a seat at the head of the table opposite her grandson.

“You were speaking of the gardens earlier, Oaksgrove?” Jeremy latched onto the faintest opportunity to shift the conversation away from ships, finance, and insurance.

“Yes, we have employed a most capable man to redesign them. The work is not entirely complete yet, but I am most satisfied with the progress thus far.”

“The water-gardens are what are still under construction, Your Grace,” the Dowager Countess put in, “we have workmen traipsing through all day in order to get them finished. I suppose it will be worth it when the work is complete.”

“I should like to see these gardens for myself,” Jeremy nodded somberly. “I have a mind to redesign the gardens at Penhaligon.”

There was a knock at the door as Ralph was opening his mouth to speak. The butler entered and approached his master with a tray bearing a letter.

“Hand delivered from Chelmsford. The messenger awaits a reply. I understand it has been communicated to him that the matter is urgent,” Beecham announced.

Ralph snatched up the letter and unfolded it.

“Damnation!” he barked, “when it rains, it pours. I shall have to attend to this. My apologies, Penhaligon, duty calls.”

“Go and attend to your business, Ralph. Perhaps I can take His Grace on a tour of the gardens. Harriet, you may join us if you can spare the time,” the Dowager Countess declared.

Ralph looked at Harriet sharply, then glanced at Jeremy so quickly that he almost doubted he had seen the look.

“Very well,” Ralph said, rising.

He beckoned to Beecham, then whispered to him before taking his leave and striding from the room.

Now what was that about? Even in the company of his grandmother, he does not trust to leave Harriet in my presence. Would it be the same for any gentleman? I do not know if I should feel affronted or not.

“Shall we then, children?” the Dowager Countess stood, having not yet touched the tea that had been poured for her. “I understand we are in for a spell of inclement weather, so we would be as well to inspect the gardens sooner rather than later.”

Jeremy cast a puzzled look at the windows, which showed a blue sky, unblemished by clouds.

“I will accompany you, Your Ladyship,” Beecham said, solemnly.

“There is no need, Beecham. If I require a strong arm to support me over uneven ground, I am sure His Grace can assist.”

“I fear I must insist, Your Ladyship,” the butler pressed while having the decency to blush. “His Lordship's instructions were… very clear.”

Jeremy caught the glance that passed between Harriet and her grandmother. The Dowager Countess gave a sharp tsk and turned for the door.

“Very well, if you have nothing better to be doing, Beecham. Come along. And if you must, then you may as well support me.”

The butler flocked to her side, offering his arm. Jeremy turned to Harriet and did the same.

“That leaves me to escort you, Lady Harriet,” he said with a courteous smile.

“I thank you, Your Grace,” she replied, taking his arm.

Jeremy was suddenly very conscious of her touch. He held her gaze for a moment, almost losing himself in those bright, emerald eyes. The raven mask had robbed him of a delightful sight, he realized. Her face was sublimely beautiful.

How can I use her so? I would have to be the worst kind of cad.

They followed the Dowager Countess and the butler out of the house and onto a path that bordered the neatly kept lawn.

A man was scything it, sweat beading on his forehead even though the sun was barely above the tree tops.

The Dowager Countess was walking so quickly that she seemed on the verge of breaking into a run.

Harriet, by contrast, kept her pace sedate, pointing out items of statuary or particular flowers or shrubs.

“I think my grandmother seeks to give us some privacy,” Harriet murmured when sufficient distance separated them from the pair in front. Beecham was looking back over his shoulder frequently.

“I see that,” Jeremy muttered back. “The two of you have planned this, then?”

Harriet shook her head. “I did not expect you to be here.

She is merely taking the opportunity that Ralph's unexpected business presented. She did not know that we were... betrothed , until recently, when we were informed of the rumor by a neighbor. Neither did I, until that moment.” She shot him a sharp glare.

“Ah, yes,” he grimaced, “as to that. I must apologize. I was aware of the circulating rumors and did not do enough to quash them.”

“ Rumors ?” she declared incredulously. “You introduced me as your betrothed...”

“Which you went along with at the time.”

Harriet stilled, planting her fists on her hips and glaring at him.

“Because you had shackled yourself to me. I could not very well deny that we were betrothed, as the next thing that would be expected of me would be to walk away from the man who had told such a lie. And walk away was the one thing I could not do.”

Jeremy had to concede that point to her. Harriet suddenly looked around. Beecham was watching like a hawk. She glanced back at the house and then took Jeremy's arm again, resuming the walk.

“We must present the appearance of an ordinary couple promenading through a garden. Not a woman arguing with the man who lied about being her fiancé,” Harriet said crossly.

My God, she is quite magnificent when she is angry. Those eyes sparkle so. I am almost tempted to continue making her angry just to see the color rise in her cheeks and those eyes dance as though they were green flames.

“Very well. I lied to preserve both of our reputations. You would have come off far worse than I had the Winchesters’ discovered our predicament—”

“A predicament entirely of your choosing,” she shot back.

“Conceded!” he snapped, not enjoying being interrupted.

Harriet glanced at him, and he fought to control his irritation.

I need her far more than she needs me.

“ Conceded ,” he repeated in a smoother tone, “and I apologize. Truly, I believed you to be another, and she would have been entirely consenting to the game I had in mind, I assure you.”

Harriet sniffed, lifting her chin. “Would that other happen to be Eloise de Rouvroy ?”

Jeremy’s head whipped toward her. The Dowager Countess had stopped and was sitting on a bench. Beecham hovered beside her, but his eyes were on the approaching couple.

“Yes—how did you know?” Jeremy asked under his breath.

“Because she sought me out a few days ago and threatened me to give you up . Threatened my reputation, and my brother's,” Harriet muttered, “which, as I'm sure you can imagine, I shan’t tolerate.”

Jeremy gritted his teeth in frustration.

“I will speak to her. She will not follow through on those threats.”

“She seemed serious to me,” Harriet pointed out.

“Then I will persuade her otherwise,” he gritted between his teeth. “Lady Harriet— Harriet , I need your help.”

Harriet glanced at him, but they were now within earshot of the butler. She smiled instead.

“These steps lead to the water-garden that is being built for us. It might be muddy and unsightly.”

“I'm sure I will manage, Lady Harriet. My compliments to your brother. The gardens are a credit to you both,” Jeremy replied.

“Oh, dear, I think I have come as far as I can go,” the Dowager Countess huffed, her voice trembling slightly.

Harriet sat on the bench beside her, taking her hands. “Grandmama, are you quite well? You look pale.”

“Too much exertion too early in the morning. I must learn to pace myself. I will return to the house, but the three of you can go on and inspect the water gardens.”

She patted Harriet's hand and rose, but immediately wavered as though dizzy. Jeremy darted forward and caught her arm. Harriet caught the other, and they guided her back to the bench.

“I do not think you should be walking anywhere alone,” Jeremy said with concern.

“Beecham, escort the Dowager Countess back to the house,” Harriet ordered.

The butler hesitated, his gaze snapping between the Dowager Countess and Harriet as though torn.

“Now, man!” Jeremy barked, “Unless you care to have Ralph’s ire bearing down on you when he returns.”

“Of—of course, Your Grace,” the butler stammered.

The Dowager Countess pushed herself to the edge of the bench and lifted a hand to the butler. She peeked at Jeremy briefly and winked with a sly smile. Then, as Beecham helped her up, she gave a moan and appeared to sway. The butler took a firm hold about her waist to hold her up.

“I shall be fine once I have a seat inside and a hot cup of sweet tea,” she said in a voice that seemed on the verge of the grave.

Beecham led her away, too occupied with keeping her upright to look back at Jeremy and Harriet.

“Come, the water gardens are out of sight of the house,” Harriet whispered.

“Your grandmother should be on the stage,” Jeremy chuckled.

“She sees a chance for me to resolve this ridiculous situation.”

They descended stone steps to a gravel path. A stream wound alongside the path, which crossed it via a stone bridge further along. Trees cast deep shade and gave the air a verdant, moist taste.

“You need my help?” she asked, walking ahead of him.

Jeremy could not help but watch her as she walked.

Her bottom swayed with the movement of her hips.

It was wonderfully feminine and seductive, made more so by the fact that he knew she did not intend it so.

She glanced back at him over her shoulder.

He realized that he was standing stock still as he watched her.

Now, his eyes locked with hers. Her lips parted, and he thought he saw her breath quicken, the briefest lifting of her bosom.

“You need my help?” she repeated in a quieter voice.

He nodded, then let out a breath. “The reason I did not come clean about the lie I told was that it produced the results I wanted. Within days, I was invited to dinner by the Earl and Countess of Sutton, after months of waiting for such an invite. They must have issued the invitation as soon as they returned home from the ball. And it was the knowledge that I was betrothed to you that persuaded them.”

Her chin tipped sharply. “So? What does that matter to me? Why should I help you? If Ralph hears even a whisper of our so-called betrothal, then I will not be allowed to set foot outside of my chambers, let alone Oaksgrove!”

Jeremy went to her, wanting to take her hands, but she folded them firmly under her breasts, a soft barrier between them.

I must take care here. Seduction will not work. She must believe my motives are utterly heartfelt and not simply trying to bed her.

“Harriet. I appreciate the risk you run, but the lie only needs to be maintained for a month. Perhaps less. As occupied as Ralph is with his affairs, he will scarcely heed any gossip. He will never know.”

She lifted her gaze to his silently, her arms slowly unfurling, though she did not seem to be aware of it. There were spots of color in her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted. She bit her lower lip, an expression that he found extremely erotic, though he doubted she intended it that way.

“You seem reluctant. May I ask what has changed your mind?” he asked.

Confusion flickered across her face. She frowned—and managed to look just as fetching with a furrowed brow as without.

“I have not changed my mind at all,” she said crisply.

“Your letter suggested you were open to the idea, provided we spoke first. I am here to speak. To plan a way for you to have your freedom without your brother learning what you’re about.”

She stepped back. Jeremy caught her wrist before she could retreat farther.

“My letter ordered you to stop telling people we’re betrothed,” she retorted, shoving against his chest. “It was most firmly worded.”

“It was indeed. You wrote about being a prisoner in your own home, desperate for freedom,” he reiterated from the letter. “I can give you that—and keep your secret. Your secret for mine.”

“I sent no such letter,” she insisted, pushing harder.

When he still didn’t let go, she kicked him square in the shin. Pain lanced through his leg and he let her go, grabbing for the injury—just as something caught his ankle. The next instant, he was falling headfirst into the stream.