Page 3 of The Duke's List
“Why?”
“For some tea and truth.”
When he balked, she gave him a shove. “Do not argue with me. I demand to know what happened in Venice, and youwilltell me.”
He gave her a stubborn, dismissive wave before turning and heading back toward the main house, but she knew he’d be waiting with tea for her and his own beloved coffee mix.
When Nana fast-shuffled toward her across the stable yard with two footmen in hot pursuit, Harriet waved at them. “Please have Mrs. Smythe send tea to her room.”
Nana kept moving steadily on until she stood close to Harriet. In a sudden move, the older woman placed a gentle hand over Harriet’s stomach. “She’ll be the next actress in the family,” Nana muttered cryptically, before trotting on toward Bocollyn House, her footmen close behind.
Harriet sucked in a deep breath and shook her head hard.No. She refused to let her slightly mad grandmother upset her. She couldn’t possibly know. It was too soon. Even she wasn’t sure yet.
Just as Harrietburst through the door to the family sitting room, Sidmouth nodded to Carrington who rolled the teacart close to his side. “You included some of those little ham sandwiches with sweet gherkins, didn’t you?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“I’m afraid I’ll need something substantial to get through one of Mrs. Bourne’s little ‘talks.’”
Harriet frowned. “I hope this ‘talk’ isn’t going to be limited to one of your bombastic lectures, followed by one of my reasonable refutations of all your arguments.”
Carrington, who’d been with the family since both Sidmouth and Harriet were children, poured Harriet’s favorite Earl Grey out of a dainty teapot from the collection favored by the duke’s truant wife. He placed her own sugar bowl and creamer next to her cup alongside a plate of several ginger biscuits. He remembered well her insatiable sweet tooth as a child.
Next, he attended to Sidmouth’s favorite brew of coffee and provided him a similar plate of a pyramid of three tiny sandwiches. He surreptitiously moved the large tiered serving plate near the duke and placed a pair of silver tongs nearby. Although he knew the minute he left the two of them alone, His Grace would hand-snatch another stack of the delicate sandwiches Cook had prepared.
After Sidmouth signaled for his butler to withdraw, he took a long sip of coffee followed by the swift consumption of the three small sandwiches. He sat back and watched his cousin sip slowly at what was actually a hot cup of sweet cream and sugar lightly dosed with a sniff of tea.
Harriet broke off a piece of one of the ginger biscuits and chewed thoughtfully. “I could be a proper cousin and friend to you and make a polite inquiry as to Her Grace’s health, but I won’t. I love a man who sailed away early this morning to fight in far off seas. I don’t even know if he’ll come back to me as hale and healthy as when he left.”
Sidmouth leaned toward her. “I…”
She cut him off short. “I searched for another man I loved, years ago, on a battlefield outside Brussels. Once I found his broken body, I nursed him until he died a few days later.” She stood abruptly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “A woman I know you’ve come to love is quite well and alive…across your own stable yard.” She stabbed a finger toward the rear of Bocollyn House.
Alarmed, Sidmouth stood and moved to her side. He leaned down and squeezed her close with his bear-like arm. “There, there. Don’t make yourself ill. I’ve never seen you this agitated.”
When she gave her cheeks an angry swipe with her fingers, he pulled a handkerchief from a waistcoat pocket and wiped away the rest of the wetness for her.
She smiled, but her chin still seemed a bit wobbly. “Sorry. I’m afraid I’m a little shaky this morning.”
He helped her back to her chair and took in the dark smudges beneath her eyes. A flush heated his face. She’d spent the previous night with her husband before he’d sailed away for a tour of duty with the West African Squadron that could last up to two years. And here he was, ready to pour out his own, paltry frustrations.
Chapter Three
Jane pacedthe rug in front of the cottage’s modest stone fireplace. Every few minutes she’d return to the window overlooking the stable yard and stand on her toes to stare across at the dark window at the rear of Bocollyn House. The sun had just arced to the point where the window of the small sitting room remained in shadows. The bright sunlight surrounding the rest of the house was no help. She stamped a foot.
She knew her husband had been taking his meals there each day, because his housekeeper, Mrs. Smythe, had let the sad truth slip.
Once Harriet had arrived that morning, Jane had hoped she’d come to see her first, but then Sidmouth had joined the chaos in the yard with Nicholas, the horses and the mastiffs. And her new friend had disappeared into the main house suddenly after a beckoning gesture from the duke. Jane’s pride had prevented her from joining the hubbub. She’d like to think her absence didn’t matter, but she was running out of excuses for the outside world as to why she refused to live under the ducal roof.
Ever since growing up in a wealthy, but lonely, household, she’d craved a family of her own. Since becoming a part of Sidmouth’s extended family, she’d yearned to belong, and had taken heart when Harriet had come to her first when his cousin had realized something was amiss between Jane and the duke.
Jane had been too embarrassed at the time to burden Harriet with the truth of what had gone wrong. She knew who she was and what she wanted. Why was it so difficult to get her stubborn husband to understand?
Harriet gaveSidmouth a measured look and stalled by making a great show of preparing herself a second cup of Earl Grey.
“For God’s sakes, woman, get on with it.”
“Get on with what?” She continued filling the half-full cup to the brim with sweet cream, but looked up to favor him with an obviously false, puzzled look.