Page 31 of The Lady’s Sweet Revenge (Safely in Scotland #3)

I t had seemed like the longest of afternoons with Harlow spending the time in the drawing room with his mother. Reese had ledgers to look over and other things he could be doing, but instead he found himself staring out the window until it was time for supper.

He practically leapt from his chair, all the sooner to get to the dining room so he could see Harlow. He should have been seeking ways to distance himself from her. But as he’d tried that already, he knew it wouldn’t make him want her any less. He was gone for the lass.

Which meant he would need to do something to secure a future with her. Something drastic like ask her to marry him. Again. And hope this time her answer would be different.

The meal was strange in that it was quieter. At least from his mother’s front. She didn’t seem resolved to push him into marriage by speaking of it every second of the time they were in a room together.

Instead she asked about the gardens and what flowers were there. She didn’t even sneer at the dog who had lumbered into the room to curl up unobtrusively next to Harlow’s chair.

He hoped the change was precipitated by her abandoning her marriage schemes once and for all.

The conversation went from the gardens to discussions in the House of Lords and Reese’s earlier efforts to get bills passed to help in the recovery of lands to Scots. It had been a great success with his friends at his side leading the charge.

Whether the other lords agreed or were simply intimidated by the three large Scots, Reese couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t much care if it resulted in getting the votes he’d needed.

“Will you play for us this evening?” his mother said. He glanced up to tell her he had other plans for the evening, when he saw she was looking directly at him.

“Me?”

“Yes. You play the pianoforte beautifully.”

Reese looked to the side thinking perhaps there was someone standing behind him that played the pianoforte beautifully. But no, it was only him. Unless, she meant Reggie the footman who had already moved away.

“Me?” he repeated, just to be sure because the idea was ludicrous.

“Yes. I know it’s been some time—”

“Some time? Mother I haven’t touched a piano since I was a lad of ten.

” This wasn’t entirely true for just a few days before he’d ushered Harlow into the music room when his mother had gone upstairs for a nap, and taken Harlow on the very instrument.

Meaning, he’d most definitely touched it.

Though he’d never admit as much to his mother.

“That’s a shame. You were so good.”

She had never said anything encouraging about his playing. Hell, she rarely praised him for anything.

“What are you playing at mother?” he blurted, hoping his bluntness would shock her into telling the truth.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I remember you playing quite well, and I never had to lecture you about practicing, which meant you must have liked playing. If I am wrong about that, then please accept my apologies for misinterpreting it.”

He scowled at his roast as he tried to puzzle out what was happening. Had his mother been switched out with an imposter? If so, he needed to thank the person because this version was much better.

“In truth, I did enjoy it a lot. But in school, I was encouraged to put it aside to learn more important things. Like how to properly manage my lands and how parliament worked.” He looked up with a smile. “Very important, indeed, but not as much fun as playing.”

His mother gave a nod before speaking.

“Now that you have mastered all the things you needed to learn back then, you could return to the things you did for enjoyment, could you not? After all, finding happiness in the arts is just as important as making a profit. It is rather a profit for your soul.”

His gaze narrowed on his mother again as he studied her. But she didn’t look up from her plate to meet his eyes. Either she was quite interested in the food she regularly criticized or she was up to something.

Whatever it was, he could play along until she gave herself away.

As he usually did when conversing with her, he looked out ahead of the conversation to predict her next move.

Much like a person does when playing an opponent in chess.

But this game was much more important because one false step and Reese could give up the entire game.

And then he saw it. Her plan. Did she think he would not see her manipulations so easily? Once he agreed to take up playing the piano again, she would likely request Harlow as a teacher, hoping to force them into close proximity where they might fall in love and marry.

Well, he would put a stop to that immediately.

He took another bite and stopped chewing abruptly when he considered the plan as if it had been his rather than his mother’s. He found it to be sound.

If Harlow could see that softer side of him, something else they shared that she loved, perhaps it would help him in winning her over.

But if his mother suggested it, he wouldn’t be able to agree for it would be seceding too much. He couldn’t allow her to manipulate him.

“Perhaps, someday, I might wish to play again. For now, I am quite busy with other things.”

Harlow casually set down her fork and turned to him.

“If you would like, I’d be happy to instruct you.

I taught Thomas, and he has very little patience for sitting and learning something from his younger sister.

Still, he was able to play a few songs when we were finished.

If I can teach him, I would think teaching you—someone who already has played, and doesn’t wish to run off when something else grabs your attention—would be quite easy, indeed. ”

“That is kind of you, Lady Harlow,” his mother said with a smile. “But you will likely be gone home when the earl wishes to pick up the instrument again. Besides, you are a lady, not a pianoforte instructor. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Yes, of course,” Harlow agreed and bowed her head somewhat as if she were embarrassed for having suggested such a scandalous affair as teaching someone how to properly place their fingers on the keys.

“As we have all established, I do know how to play. Therefore, I wouldn’t need an instructor. If I only need someone to remind me of the fundamentals, it would not be improper for Lady Harlow to assist.”

His mother gave a demure shrug.

“You shall do whatever you wish anyway. Pay me no mind. Proper or no, I will report to everyone whatever you want me to say.” She returned her attention to her plate and muttered what was obviously loud enough to be heard, “Not that I have a choice in the matter.”

Reese might have felt guilty for dictating what she did by threatening her funds, if he were not so confused. She had relented.

She never backed away from badgering him when it was something she wanted him to do.

What was going on here? Was the woman well?

She was eating, and generally people who don’t feel well lose their appetite first. Unless she was not well of mind.

She was not that old, being years younger than his father.

But perhaps she was muddled. For clearly she had forgotten their rules of engagement.

She pestered him to do something he didn’t want to do, and he obstinately refused until she gave up. But now she was suggesting he not do something he wanted to do. It seemed that he would have to show her he was the victor by doing just that.

He turned to Harlow with a smile.

“I would appreciate it, if you would spend some time with me this evening as I muddle my way through some songs at the pianoforte.”

Harlow fairly beamed with excitement and nodded.

“Of course, my lord. I would be happy to help.”

So it was that after the meal was over he and Harlow went to the music room while his mother shook her head in disapproval and returned to her needlepoint in the drawing room.

He had won.

Or so he thought, until he found himself sitting next to Harlow, playing a horrid rendition of the Fatted Goose is Dead and wishing he’d remembered that he hadn’t liked playing as much as he’d thought. Especially when his instructor was so very lovely.

Every time he attempted to distract her with kisses, she pushed him back.

“We can’t. Not when we are supposed to be playing. Don’t you think your mother will grow suspicious if there is no music coming from this room?”

“Hell,” he cursed in complaint, for this plan had completely blown back on him. Still, if the instrument needed to make noise, it could surely make better sounds if they came from someone other than him.

“Why don’t you play, and I’ll watch. That will help a great deal with finger placement and…” He searched his mind for another musical term. “Timing,” he finally supplied.

“Very well.” She smirked at him, as if she knew what he was up to.

She played for another half an hour and they decided that was enough. His mother had surely retired for the evening. Which meant they could do the same. Only instead of going to sleep they could be together. Alone.

He led her upstairs and after darting a glance down the hall to his mother’s closed door they shared a kiss filled with promises of more to come. When he released her, she turned and hurried to her room, looking over her shoulder with a tempting smile.

Shaking his head, he turned for his own room so he might change into something more comfortable and less inhibiting.

When he was changed, he stood by the door waiting. And waiting. They’d forgot to discuss which room they would meet in. Was she to come to his or was he to go to hers as he had the night before?

Unable to wait another minute, he left the room and was halfway down the hall when Harlow left her own room, bidding Belle to stay inside. When she turned to see him, she smiled and walked slowly in his direction.

He opened his mouth to suggest they go back to his room, but she stood on tiptoe to kiss him, right there in the hall.

It seemed she was as ravenous for him as he was for her.

He took control of the kiss. Pushing her against the wall until she reciprocated, his back pressed against a painting of his great grandfather.

He was again ready to suggest they take things to his room rather than risk being caught in the hall together when she was only wearing a nightgown and he wrapped loosely in his banyan. But she retreated away from him, pulling him along.

He smiled, glad she’d had the same idea, but instead of leading him by the hand to his room, she spun to take her turn with her back against the wall. Except there was not a wall there. In its place was an alcove, adorned with a small table and a vase of flowers.

He saw what was going to happen before it transpired, for it was clear there was to be a catastrophe, but while his mind responded quickly, his body was quite slower. So slow in fact, he was unable to stop the motion.

Harlow stumbled backward, bumping the table with a great force, which knocked the vase off the surface. Had it landed on the carpet stretched the length of the hall, it would have muffled the sound. But the alcove was not carpeted. So when the vase hit the floor, it did so with a loud crash.

He and Harlow seemed frozen as they both looked toward his mother’s room. For a beat of his heart, he thought all would be fine. But only a second later, the door opened.

It seemed they were well and truly caught this time. It was only then that he realized there had been a trap at all, and Harlow had been the one to set it.