A Reformed Rake (13 page)

This suggestive remark was going too far for even such an easygoing husband as Lord Halford. He frowned down his wife’s high spirits. She blushed delightfully, sent an apologetic glance toward Harriet and bowed her head over her soup until her color cleared. Harriet was relieved the man was not so besotted he’d allow his wife to go her length in everything. The young woman was as hot to handle as Françoise, and Harriet was sure that, by herself, she would find it impossible to keep the two within permissible bounds.

Three more courses followed, each more tempting than the last: the fish was in a delicate sauce; the meats, properly roasted as only the English seemed able to do, were served in their own juice and
not
hidden under one or another sauce; and, finally, the vegetables were cooked to a nicety in the French fashion, while the sweets course tempted one to excess.

Elizabeth looked around the table as the syllabub was passed still again and finally refused by all. “Have we finished?” There were general murmurs of agreement. “We will not leave you alone with your port, my lord. We will stay and keep you company.”

Evidently such shocking behavior on the part of their hostess was not uncommon since the butler proceeded, without blinking an eye, to order the covers removed and the table cleared. It was the first time Harriet or Françoise had remained in a dining room while decanters and a silver bowl of nuts were placed ceremoniously on the table. Normally, women removed from the room at this point. His lordship filled a glass from the decanter at his elbow and the butler poured more of the light wine served with the last course for the ladies. The servants retired.

“Now, my lord, you must explain to me all the mysteries which have been plaguing me. First there was the message which came some time ago, and you disappeared immediately for a whole long afternoon with no explanation as to where you were going or why—even though you had promised to drive me in the park. It was not polite of you, Robert.” She scowled delightfully and her husband pretended chagrin. Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and went on. “Then, my lord, you left
again
with no explanation and were gone for
three whole days
only to return with our new friends.” Elizabeth pouted, but Harriet noted the very different and more determined expression in her eyes. “It was very bad of you, my lord.”

Robert sipped, enjoying the brandy’s flavor. He swallowed and glanced down the long table. “But it was none of your business, my lady.”

“Was it not? Does that mean you will not tell me?”

“Why should I?” Lord Halford raised his glass and studied its color, watching the candlelight glowing through it.

“Because I am your wife. It
is
my business.”

“But, my lady...”

“My lord?”

Harriet and Françoise watched each as the exchange went on. Françoise stifled giggles behind her napkin, while Harriet wondered if Lord Halford carried his teasing too far. The twinkle had gone completely from Elizabeth’s eyes, and the pout was now real.

His lordship seemed able to judge to a nicety just when to give over, however. He sighed lugubriously, which immediately lightened their hostess’ countenance. “What it is to live under the paw of the cat,” he said, his eyes on his glass.

“A more unlikely mouse I have yet to see,” scolded his wife. “Do tell, my lord. Please?” she coaxed prettily.

“Since you ask so nicely, I will.” He quoted the message from Frederick, his request that a team and carriage be chosen and sent to Dover to await his arrival. “But, you see, my dear, I could not allow Frederick to arrive back in England with no welcome.”

“What I see is that I was left at home, my lord. Might I not also have welcomed him back?” A short silence followed and eyes met eyes down the long table. “I see.” Elizabeth frowned in earnest. “You wished to determine Sir Frederick’s state of mind.”

“Yes. I did.”

“You did not trust him. Or me.”

Harriet rose hastily. “You will excuse us, my lady, my lord? Our journey was long and arduous. With your permission we will retire.”

Elizabeth, too, rose to her feet, obviously contrite. “Oh my unruly tongue. No, please. I will be good. Truly, I will.”

The argument, ready to burst into flames, was doused, although Harriet noted one last look between husband and wife. Elizabeth, putting an arm around Françoise’s waist, and waving Harriet toward the door had one last comment.

“We will retire to the Green Salon, my lord.” The barest hint of wistfulness could be heard when she asked, “You will join us there? Presently?”

“I will.”

“Good.”

The women were in the hall when Elizabeth turned and ran back into the room. Harriet caught a glimpse of their hostess falling to her knees in a cloud of pale green silk beside her husband, her hands on his arm. She thought she heard Elizabeth tell his lordship she was sorry. Lord Halford touched his wife’s hair and raised her to her feet.

Again the tiny hurting cold spot of unwanted jealousy irritated Harriet and again she flung it away as unworthy of a woman of her age and sensible nature. But it was obvious to her that, once she was more rested, she must sit herself down and give herself a stern lecture on just what she could expect from the rest of her life! And those expectations did not include a home filled with the joy and wonder of love and happiness ... especially not when the male figure in that dream was a confirmed rake and profligate to boot!

Seven

Harriet looked up from the book she was reading to Madame la Comtesse who lay quietly, still very drawn and worn. She looked older than ever before, although, after two full days in bed, she now spent some time each morning and afternoon on the chaise near the fire.

“Yes, James?” asked Harriet of the footman who tapped lightly on the open door, rousing her attention.

“Sir Frederick to see you, miss. He’s waiting in the Green Salon.”

“To see me?” Harriet’s heart beat faster. “Are you certain?”

“Yes miss. He asked for Miss Cole, miss.”

“Run along, Harriet. I’m ready for a nap now, anyway.” Harriet rose from the chair’s embroidered cushion and moved closer to the chaise. “I wish you’d let Lady Elizabeth send for a doctor, Madame.”

“Hush now. There is nothing wrong with me that having fewer years in my dish would not cure.” Madame raised crepey lids and her eyes were as sharp as ever. “I think you should see what Sir Frederick has to say, my dear. It is very possible that he may have news for us.”

“Oh.” Harriet felt herself blush. Why hadn’t
she thought
of that obvious reason for his unexpected arrival? “I’ll go immediately and won’t be long.”

“Take your time. You spend far too much of that valuable commodity pandering to a tired old woman while the young shop and visit.” The eyes closed again and, even as Harriet dithered, she noticed her mistress had slipped into the realm of Morpheus in that easy fashion of the invalid. A worried frown refused to fade as she moved quickly down the stairs and went through the door James opened as she approached the salon.

“What is it?” asked a deep voice. A frown matching her own, Sir Frederick approached her as the door closed behind her. He took her hands into his. “Harriet? Miss Cole,” he added in a firmer tone as if remembering it was improper to use her name. “If I can help...”

“No. No, there is nothing anyone can do, I believe.” More flustered than ever she pulled away, walked over to the fireplace. “Is no one else at home?”

“I don’t know,” said Frederick with an abrupt wave of his hand. “I didn’t ask. Please tell me what is worrying you.”

He hadn’t asked? “Madame does not improve. We’ve been here very nearly a week now, and I think her very little better. I cannot help worrying about her.”

“What has the doctor said?”

“She refuses a doctor.” Harriet turned from the fireplace and stared at him. “You have news for us?”

“News? What news would I have? A messenger has not had time, yet, to reach my uncle and return.”

“There has been no sign of the comte?”

“I do not expect it until the wind goes down.”

“Then why, Sir Frederick, are you here?”

He smiled—a touch ruefully. “Such modesty. I’ve come to take you for a drive in the park, Miss Cole. I wish company while I show off my brand new curricle.” He took her arm and led her to the window, holding aside the long drapery. Harriet looked down into the street where a pair of beautiful roan geldings switched their tails and stamped a foot now and again. A scowling young man with a long nose and reddish hair had a hold of them just above their bits. Just then he glanced up at the house. “That’s my old tiger. I let him go when I left the country, but, when he learned I’d returned, so did he.”

“Such an unpleasant looking lad.”

“Hmmm. I think he’s finding service with me less interesting than in former times.
Will
you go for a drive?”

“But why me?”

“Why not you, Miss Cole?”

“Don’t make a May-game of me, Sir Frederick. I am not the sort with whom you deal. Shall I see if Frani would care to take the air?”

“Thus throwing the lamb to the wolf?” Sir Frederick sighed. “You are a very difficult woman to court, Harriet.” This time he made it clear he meant to use her name. “If I had wished to see Mademoiselle Françoise or Lady Elizabeth I would have asked for them. Or,” he held up a hand as she opened her mouth, “if I’d wished for Robert. I didn’t. My dear, it is so very simple. I wished to see you and, for once, without all the distractions of Mademoiselle or, for that matter, anyone else.”

Harriet turned back to the window to hide her reddening cheeks. “This is the most ridiculous conversation.”

“What else can one have with a ridiculously insecure and modest woman?” he asked blandly.

She choked back a laugh at the dry note in his voice. “Well, thank you, sir, for the offer of a ride in your new rig, but I fear I must decline the generous invitation. Madame—”

“You are pale, Harriet,” he interrupted. “It will do you good to go out. The wind will blow away the cobwebs. Only half an hour. Please?”

She was torn. Madame slept. The comtesse would nap for at least an hour, maybe as much as two, as was usual with her. Harriet looked again into the street, admired the well-formed horses and spanking new carriage. “Oh all right. I will have to change, however.”

He nodded. “Twenty minutes, Harriet. Dress warmly.”

Even tracking down Madame’s maids and asking that they sit with Madame, Harriet returned to the salon just under time. A deep rose carriage dress trimmed with fawn-colored braid showed beneath a woolen pelisse in the color of the braid. Her straw bonnet was trimmed with rose ribbons but otherwise plain.

“I fear I will ruin your reputation, Sir Frederick,” she teased, once he’d settled her on the high seat.

“How is that? You may wait here, Chester.” A puzzled expression on his narrow foxy face, the tiger stared rudely at Harriet. Harriet stared back, which seemed to disconcert the young man. “Chester, I gave you an order.” Startled, the tiger released the horses and, one last look at Harriet, moved out of the way.

“That, I think, proves it.” Harriet settled herself more comfortably. After watching closely for a few minutes, she hid her satisfaction that her belief that Sir Frederick would prove to be a top-sawyer was correct. His handling of the mettlesome pair of horses was indeed masterful and showed that ease of manner only long familiarity with the ribbons gave one. Sir Frederick, was a true whip!

“I’ve tried to figure out your last cryptic statement, but I can’t. I’m in the dark, Harriet. What proves what?”

Harriet had to bring her thoughts back from Frederick’s driving to what she’d last said. “Oh. If the reaction of your tiger is any indication, everyone will believe Sir Frederick Carrington lost his wits while traveling on the Continent. They’ll shake their heads and go tsk-tsk whenever you pass by.”

“I think I understand, but wish you’d be more explicit, my dear.”

Harriet debated scolding him for the use of the endearment, then decided she shouldn’t draw attention to it. Frederick undoubtedly used such terms automatically without thinking about them. It was bad enough she had not objected to his use of her given name! “What do you find unclear?” she asked in an airy tone. “Sir Frederick appears in public with a woman for the first time...” she paused and turned slightly, “It is the first time?”

He nodded, suppressing a grin at the revealing hint of curiosity in her question.

“...and he’s with a dowdy and unknown spinster of uncertain years. You will be believed to have lost all sense of your former taste.”

“No. My taste will be thought to have improved.” He turned through the gates into Hyde Park and allowed his team to increase their pace to a trot. “Dowdy?” He glanced at her, beginning with the half boots, the toes of which appeared beneath the edge of her skirt. His gaze moved on up until he reached her flushed face, her eyes seeing nothing, but staring straight ahead. “No, not dowdy. It is true that the fashion is for frills and laces and all sorts of extraneous decoration. You are right to forego all that. The sharp clean lines of that pelisse could have been designed by none but a master cutter and could not be bettered. I believe you will set a new fashion—an improved fashion.”

“Such fustian! I wish you would not pitch me such rum tales. You embarrass me, Sir Frederick.”

“
You
embarrass
me,
Miss Cole!” He chuckled when she chanced a quick look his way. “Such language, my dear. How shocking.”

“You don’t appear shocked.”

“Actually, my love, I find you a delight in all ways.”

“Sir Frederick...”

“I apologize. Old habits die hard. I forgot this was to be a proper courtship and fell in the loose ways of my youth. Forgive me?”

“Courtship?” Harriet blinked in confusion. Hadn’t he used that word when she’d come down to the salon?

He glanced her way. “My heart was lost when you held that gun on me in Switzerland, Harriet.”

Her heart quickened its pace alarmingly, but, outwardly, she remained serene. “Your heart has been lost many times, Sir Frederick. I’m sure you’ll find it again.”

He laughed, but wryly. “No, you’re well and far off with that thrust. I lost it only once and then it had merely strayed. I find that, now, there is only a warm spot of friendship for that minx of a girl. She taught me that, you know. The emotion of friendship.”

“You have many friends. Lord Halford...”

“Ah. Men.” A sober expression cleared the laughter from Sir Frederick’s face, and his tone was serious when he added, “No, Harriet, even that’s not true. Even amongst the male sex, I have few I call friend. But I meant, of course, that a woman might be my friend.”

“I will readily be your friend, Sir Frederick. I believe you would not hurt one with whom you shared that feeling. And I’m concerned about Françoise. A hurt to her would hurt me, so if you wish to cry friends, then we shall—and I may stop fearing that you will seduce my charge.”

“You wound me. I have told you, and more than once, that your charge is safe from my wiles.”

“I’m sure you’ve told many that.”

Silence followed and again Harriet chanced a look his way. His jaw was so firm she thought his teeth must be clenched, and his mouth formed a hard straight line. His expression confused her. He looked angry. But why? Because she was cautious and suspicious and watchful, making his pursuit of Frani more difficult of achievement? And now? She mustn’t allow his charm to abate her care one jot. No matter how hard it was to disbelieve him...

“One cannot change the past,” he said at last. “One can only move on into the future. I never thought to regret anything I’d done in my life. In the last year I’ve come to regret much of it. And
now,
all the more, if it is to interfere in our relationship.”

“Sir Frederick, I cannot understand you. You have inherited—”

“That news is not to be broadcast around the
ton
!”

“Lord Halford warned us you wished it kept secret. Elizabeth and Frani may be skitter-brained, but are not stupid. They will not breathe a word of how you acquired your wealth.” She turned a curious look his way. “Have you forgotten that you yourself told me how it came about?”

“I did? Oh. On the packet. Yes. That need I feel to explain myself to you that is so out of character for me.” He nodded.

Harriet let that notion percolate for a moment then thrust it aside. Taking a deep breath she went on. “That you
have
acquired it will soon be obvious to the meanest intelligence and rumors will fly as to
how.
Again, I do not understand you. You will not have it reported how you spent the years of war with France, preferring to be considered a coward; you will not have it broadcast how you quite honestly and unexpectedly came by your fortune, knowing the sort of rumors which will be whispered from ear to ear; you publicly and without shame made your reputation as an unrepentant rake. You seem to
enjoy
making the
ton
believe the worst of you.” She turned and stared rudely. “You, Sir Frederick, are
perverse
.”

Sir Frederick maneuvered carefully between two carriages, the park more crowded as the popular hour for promenading approached. “Perverse?” he questioned. “I suppose that may be true. You did not grow up in England, Harriet. You knew the very best of the English aristocracy—those who worked abroad, I mean, the diplomats and the military men. So you can have little knowledge or understanding of how shallow much of those making up London society can be. I learned it early, and I refused to conform. So, I suppose it can be admitted. I am as you say: perverse.”

It was Harriet’s turn to be silent. “Perhaps I do see. In a way. Surface things are all important here in London. Wealth, status, taking care one’s reputation remains unblemished while actually indulging in all sorts of unacceptable behavior. Then there are those who, snubbing those below them socially, allow those above to walk all over them. Yes. A young idealistic man would find that disgusting. So, snubbing one and all, you pretended to be otherwise.” Again she glanced his way and back to face forward. “And, perhaps, you became the thing you pretended? What now, Sir Frederick?”

“A well-reformed rake, perhaps? I’ll be a sober married man. I’ll set up my nursery and improve my estate—which needs improving badly. I will eventually run for parliament,” he added, thoughtfully. “The country is in a terrible condition, economically, now the war is ended. Too many manufactures have had to close their doors; the declining market for woolens means the owners of flocks have no markets for their fleece; mines have closed; the—” He looked at her, smiling. “But you do not wish a lecture on such a beautiful day.”