A Reformed Rake (22 page)

Pierce chuckled, stretching out one leg, his hand sliding into that pocket. He leaned back in his chair. “Well, dear?” he asked Joanna. “Did we receive a card?”

“I cannot recall.” Jo put a finger to her forehead and pretended to frown. “Now did we or did we not?”

Sir Frederick laughed. “Don’t roast my poor innocent so. She’ll die of blushing if you keep on in such a way.” Pierce smiled. “We did indeed receive an invitation, Miss Cole. I, however, had an unexceptionable excuse to avoid the affair.”

“You did, Your Grace?”

“Joanna has told you she is increasing?”

“Yes.” Harriet felt her cheeks warm at the reference. That a woman was with child was rarely, if ever, discussed between the sexes.

“And you’ll also be aware the prince has an almost superstitious dread of illness?”

Harriet frowned. “But what, Your Grace, has one to do with the other?”

“I informed our prince of our expectations and said that I feared for Jo’s good health. Perhaps, I said, a damp stranger, standing too near, might infect her. Our prinny was most understanding.”

Harriet blinked. “But, you do not fear a crowded opera house?”

“Oh, we arrived early, did we not?” He waved a hand. “We’ll either leave early or wait until all is clear. Our box, itself, is quite exclusive, of course.”

Harriet looked from one to the other, letting her eyes rest longest on the laughing countenance of her friend Jo. “You, Your Grace,” she scolded Pierce, “are a complete hand.” A conscious look entered her eyes. “I mean, Your Grace, that you are a joke-smith of the first order. You
did not wish
to go to Carlton House this evening!” she accused.

“You have found me out. I trust you will not be so poor-spirited as to spread the tale of my perfidy abroad?”

Harriet chuckled. “I see I am to keep on my toes in your company, Your Grace, or be taken for a flat!”

Frederick said, “I know you will never be that, m’girl. You’ve too much in your cockloft to ever be taken for a flat.”

“Oh no. Oh, Joanna, will you pinch me when my tongue runs on? I
must
break myself of the habit of using such language.”

“I don’t believe I’ve heard you do so quite so freely before this evening,” said Frederick thoughtfully. “Why tonight?”

Harriet’s eyes dropped to her hands. Collecting such words and phrases had been a hobby with her for years. She enjoyed them, but she did not use them—except in a joking way with Madame, who also enjoyed them. So why, now, had she dropped the guard on her tongue? Only occasionally did she slip as she’d done tonight. But twice in as many minutes? Perhaps because she liked these people, felt relaxed with them? Was the reason that simple?

“Harriet?”

She looked up at Frederick, met his gaze and once again felt drawn into his soul through his eyes. “I believe I forgot, for a moment, my place in life, Sir Frederick—not that I should speak such words even if I were not a mere companion to dear Françoise.”

“You felt you were among friends,” he interpreted. “Which you are.” She blushed slightly, but held his look steadily enough. He went on softly, “Cannot you bring yourself to call me Frederick? My friends do, you know.”

That was too much. She looked over the railing toward the orchestra, as the musicians’ random twitterings and trills fell away into silence. Saved, she thought, by the curtain!

The first interval brought curious acquaintances to the box. Conscious of how the
ton
would look upon her, a mere companion, intruding into such exulted society as that of the duke and duchess, Harriet tried to keep quietly in the background. Then Lord and Lady Cowper appeared. Joanna and Frederick had made it difficult to stay retired, but, when she was asked to sit beside Lady Cowper in the front of the box, it became impossible.

“Are you enjoying the opera, Miss Cole?”

“Very much, my lady. I have missed hearing it regularly since leaving Vienna. I became quite spoiled there, I fear.”

“Yes, it must have been delightful during the Congress of Vienna.” Startled, Harriet stared. Lady Cowper chuckled. “Oh, not the dreadful diplomatic business of sorting out the problems caused by Napoleon’s ambition—but the music. I’ve heard wonderful tales of Viennese music.” Lady Cowper glanced around the boxes, waved to
one lady
, smiled at several more. “Well, I believe that will do. Miss Cole, I am hosting a musical evening next week. I wish you will indulge my guests with a piece or two?”

“I...” Harriet, flustered by the sudden awareness Lady Cowper had been assuring Harriet’s success in the
ton,
didn’t quite know how to reply. It would be terribly rude to say no, but she never played in public!

“I will send a note to Lady Halford tomorrow, of course, although I did mention the possibility the other evening when you played for us. Please do not say no, Miss Cole. It would be an excellent opportunity for you to meet a portion of London society which you’ll like. My guests will be chosen from among those who truly love and understand music, you see!”

“You are too kind, my lady. I must consult with Madame, of course.”

“I see the interval is about to end.” Lady Cowper rose to her feet and, with a mischievous look, said, “Believe me, Miss Cole, London will accept you with open arms.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Harriet blushed and, rising, curtsied as Lord Cowper came forward to offer his wife his arm. The door closed behind the last of the intruders, and Harriet dropped into a seat. “She is so kind!”

“It is very easy to be kind to you, Harriet,” said Frederick, “but to what, specifically, do you refer?”

She couldn’t voice her suspicion that Lady Cowper had come to their box for no other purpose than that the
ton
would see a patroness of Almack’s talking with an unknown young woman! So what
could
she say? “She has invited me to play at a musical evening next week.”

“Excellent. I will beg, borrow or steal an invitation. To miss hearing you play would be more than I could bear,” said Sir Frederick.

“Oh,
flattery.
I wish you will not.”

He touched her hand, waited until she looked up at him. “Will you ever believe in me, Harriet?”

She was surprised at the wistful note she thought she detected in his voice, more surprised to find the same emotion in his eyes as well. Her blood flowed faster. Again the music saved her from the necessity of forming a suitably polite reply. She shushed him, heard him sigh, and was relieved when he accepted they must be still.

A few moments later, startled, she glanced down at his hand, long fingered, strong, and so warm and comforting as it clasped the slender bones of her own slim fingers, but then, when she tugged, he released them instantly—which, she found, didn’t make her happy, either! If only she
could
allow herself to believe him!

“Lady wife,” said Crawford to Cressy that same evening when he found her in the palace’s card room, “we’ve been asked to present ourselves in the new throne room.”

Cressida looked up, guiltily, from where she watched a game of whist. “I am not playing!”

“No,” Lord Crawford’s eyes twinkled, “but removing you from temptation is the way of a wise man, m’dear.”

Cressida bit her lip, but, meeting the humor in his gaze, she laughed. “I believe you are correct.” She placed her fingers on Lord Crawford’s arm and let him lead her from the card room to which she’d drifted almost as if her feet had a will of their own. She had refused a seat at one of the tables, but it had been hard—very nearly impossible. She’d known she should leave and, in a way, she was relieved her husband had come to find her. “Who, my lord, has asked for us? Or was that a polite ruse?”

“No ruse my dear. And who else, my lady? The prince himself.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened.

“Really. He wishes to congratulate us on the birth of our son.”

“Have you...”

When she stopped speaking, he halted their slow pace toward the designated audience chamber and looked down at her. “Have I what, Cressy?”

“Oh,” she tossed her head, “I just wondered if you had had word as to how the boy goes on.”

“Nanny writes with an impossible hand, but if I deciphered it properly he goes on famously. I will be glad to return to him, however.”

“
Two weeks
.” Cressy clutched his arm. “You promised me two full weeks!”

“Yes. You will have your treat, Cressy—if you will behave.”

Cressida thought back over the last few days and knew she had
not
behaved. But it was so hard. Some demon drove her and he could not possibly understand. She didn’t really understand herself. Right now, at this moment, she hated her behavior, hated herself—but she knew it would not last. Oh, why was she so horrible? “Come along now, my lady wife.”

The next day, standing at the top of the front stairs, Harriet pulled on gloves, preparatory for a walk to Hatchard and Son’s Bookstore where she hoped to find something in French which might interest Madame. The knocker clanked and, stepping back, she paused, waiting to see who arrived. Sir Frederick stepped in and spoke too softly for her to hear. Marks took the hat and gloves handed him, passed them to a footman and, with them, a message. The footman disappeared toward the back of the house and, after another word or two, Marks followed, leaving Frederick alone in the hall.

This was such odd behavior that Harriet remained absolutely still, not certain she wished to encounter Sir Frederick so soon after their evening at the opera. Something in her vacillated wildly every time she saw him and every time it only got worse. Then Big John walked quietly toward Sir Frederick who drew him off to one side. She watched the expression on the big man’s face, the thinning of his mouth, the furrowing of his brow. His body stiffened at one point, then relaxed and he nodded as Frederick pursued the topic, speaking quickly but firmly.

Harriet swallowed. She didn’t need to be told what subject was under discussion, she
knew.
The comte had come to London. He was here. Her heart pounded at the thought. When John, with one last firm nod of his head turned and strode away, she set her foot on the step and started down.

“Harriet, love!”

“Don’t. Not now. Not when
he’s
come again to plague us. The comte? He has arrived, has he not?”

“Yes. But you mustn’t worry.” She stopped on the bottom step and glowered at him, causing him to chuckle. “Telling you that is like telling the tides to turn before time, is it not?” He strolled toward her as he spoke, taking her hand and lifting it. He turned it and opened the buttons at her wrist, bringing her hand to his mouth. His breath tickled. Worse, his tongue, trailing across her pulse, made deep slow shivers sweep through her body. His voice had a throaty note when he said, softly, “Ah, my dear, how I long to make you mine.”

“As you have many before me.”

“You wound me to my soul, Harriet.”

“Do you have one?”

“So I hope. This is not the same as in the past, my Harri.” He put her hand, the palm flat, against his chest. “Don’t you feel it?”

“Lust, Sir Frederick?”

“Love. I can admit it now I’m certain. The two are quite different.”

“Elizabeth...” Harriet almost choked on the name, and he touched her cheek with his free hand. “You wish to throw dust in the eyes of your friend,” she persisted. “While you pursue me, Lord Halford will believe you no longer feel anything for her.”

“Harriet,” he said quietly, “I’ll not deny that Elizabeth changed my life. It would be both ungenerous and unfair to deny it. Because of her, my eyes are opened. I no longer seek to wound and take revenge, believing women a lesser and more despicable species. I know now that women, like men, come in all shapes and sizes, that some are good and some bad. Most are neither particularly good
or
bad. Because I now see clearly, I am free to love as others do. And I love you.”

She could not, after that, doubt his sincerity, but she could doubt that his flattering observance would continue. This whim of his that he truly loved her would pass, and he’d go on to another love and another. She sighed, wishing she felt free to follow her heart and to the devil with the future.

“You are dressed to go out,” he said when she didn’t respond. She explained her errand. “You would not go alone!” he said, his tone sharp.

“No. I will ask John to attend me. Elizabeth says she’ll not need him until this afternoon.”

He smiled. “Let us not bother Big John. I will escort you.”

She hesitated and, then, giving in to the need to enjoy what she could of his company, nodded. He looked around, frowned slightly as he noticed a partly opened door a few feet down the hall. Had it been ajar earlier? He could not recall. And what did it matter? He called for Marks who appeared with his hat and gloves and, taking Harriet’s arm, smiled down at her.

Oh such warmth in that look! If only she could trust in it, she thought, trust he’d not become bored with her as he had with so many in the past, trust that the love he professed to feel would last a lifetime. Their lifetime.
Together.