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Her head flew up. ‘You know George? But you just said you didn’t.’
He shrugged as he whirled away from her to promenade up the outside of the set. By the time she reached the head of it on the ladies’ side, she was seething with impatience.
‘Well?’
‘I only said cavalry officers don’t normally hobnob with the infantry. I didn’t say I didn’t know him. Though, to be precise, I only know him by sight.’ He eyed her with amusement before adding, ‘And what a sight he is to behold.’
She flushed angrily. George was, indeed, very often a sight to behold. For he had his uniforms made by a top tailor, out of the finest fabrics, and never looked better than when mounted on one of his extremely expensive horses. From which he did tend to look down his aristocratic nose at the rest of the world. Including her. And to her chagrin, although he’d always used to concede she was a bruising rider when they’d been much younger, the last few times he’d come home there had been a touch of disdain about his lips whenever his eyes had rested on her. Which had also, she now saw, influenced her decision to buy the most elaborate and costly gowns she could.
‘What, no pithy retort?’ Ulysses shook his head in mock reproof. ‘I am disappointed.’
‘Yes, well, that’s the thing with swooping to someone’s rescue, isn’t it? They do tend to do things you didn’t expect and make you wish you hadn’t bothered.’
He threw back his head and laughed.
‘Touché!’
She glowered at him. Far from showing the slightest sign of contrition, he was clearly thoroughly enjoying himself. At her expense.
‘Come, come, don’t look at me like that,’ he said. ‘I conceded the point. And far from being sorry I swooped, I have to admit I am glad I did so. No, truly,’ he said, just as he whirled away from her.
‘Well, I’m not,’ she said as the interminable music finally gasped its last and everyone bowed or curtsied to everyone else in their set. ‘I’m tired of being baited.’ At least, she would very soon be if he kept this up for any length of time. It was just one more vexation she was going to have to endure. On top of everything else she was struggling with, it felt like the last straw. ‘Why don’t you just get it over with? Hmm? Go on. Tell Lady Tarbrook where you found me, two weeks ago, and what we were doing. And then...’
Her mind raced over Aunt Susan’s inevitable disappointment and her tears, and the scolding and the punishment. Which might well, if Uncle Hugo had anything to do with it, involve being sent back to Stone Court.
Which would mean her ordeal by London society would come to an end.
Which would be a relief, in a way.
At first. But then she’d have to live, for the rest of her life, with the knowledge that she’d failed. Which she most emphatically did not wish to do.
She lifted her head to stare at Lord Becconsall who, though being thoroughly annoying, had at least made her see that she was nowhere near ready to throw in the towel.
He was shaking his head. ‘I don’t know what I have done to make you think I would behave in such a scaly fashion,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Only that I would never betray a lady’s secrets.’
‘Not if it didn’t suit your schemes, no,’ she said uncharitably.
Which made him look a bit cross.
‘It wouldn’t be in either of our interests for anyone else to hear about that kiss,’ he snapped. And then went very still. And then he turned a devilish grin in her direction.
‘I’m beginning to wonder,’ he said, leaning close and lowering his voice to a murmur, ‘if you aren’t playing a similar kind of game to mine.’
‘Game?’
‘Oh, very nicely done. That touch of baffled innocence would have fooled most men. But I met you under, shall we say, very different circumstances. Revealing circumstances.’
‘Revealing?’ Her heart was hammering. What had she revealed? Apart from rather too much of her legs. And what game was it he suspected her of playing?
‘Oh, yes. You are a rebel, aren’t you?’
Well, that much was true. She had rebelled against Mama and Papa’s wishes to come to London for this Season.
And since she’d been here, she’d been rebelling against all the strictures imposed upon her behaviour.
‘Ha! I knew it. Your guilty expression has given it away. You are merely pretending to go along with all this...’ He waved his hand to include not only the ballroom, but by extension, the whole society it represented. ‘But the fact that you felt the need to go galloping round the park at dawn, unfettered by all the restrictions society would impose on you, coupled with the dreadful way you are dressed, hints at a cunning scheme to avoid falling into the trap of matrimony.’
‘Absolutely not,’ she retorted, stung by his continuing references to her poor choice of clothing. ‘If you must know...’ she drew herself to her full height, which meant she only had to tilt her head the slightest bit to look him straight in the eyes ‘...I dressed like this because...because...’
She paused, wondering why on earth Aunt Susan had permitted her to buy so many things that didn’t suit her. When she was doing so much to make her a social success.
And it came to her in a flash.
‘This is the first time I have ever been anywhere near a fashionable dressmaker and my aunt didn’t want to ruin the pleasure of being able to feel satin against my skin, or picking out lace and ribbons and feathers by objecting to every single gaudy thing I set my heart upon.’
‘But—’
‘And I do want to get married. That is why I’ve come to London. To find somebody who will...value me and...admire me and talk to me as if what I have to say is...not a joke!’
He flinched.
‘Oh, there is no need to worry that I will ever set my sights on you,’ she said with a curl of her lip. And, as a fleeting look of relief flitted across his face, she had another flash of insight. ‘That is what you meant, isn’t it, about playing a game? You are avoiding matrimony. Like the plague.’
He started and the wary look that came across his face told her she’d hit the nail on the head.
And then, because he’d had so much fun baiting her, she couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to turn the tables on him. It wouldn’t take much. He’d practically handed her all the ammunition she needed.
‘What devilish schemes,’ he said in alarm, ‘are running through that pretty head of yours?’
Pretty? She looked up at him sharply.
And met his eyes, squarely, for the first time that night.
And felt something arc between them, something that flared through all the places that he’d set ablaze when he’d crushed her to his chest and kissed her.
‘You think I’m pretty?’
What a stupid thing to say. Of all the things she might have said, all the clever responses she could have flung at him, she’d had to focus on that.
Fortunately, it seemed to amuse him.
‘In spite of those hideous clothes, and the ridiculous feathers in your hair, yes, Lady Harriet, you know full well you are vastly pretty.’
The words, and the way he said them, felt like being stroked all the way down her spine with a velvet glove. Even though they weren’t true. She’d had no idea anyone might think she was pretty. Let alone vastly pretty.
Even so, she wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.
‘You are not going to turn me up sweet by saying things like that,’ she said sternly. ‘One word from me, just one, about that kiss in the park and my outraged family will be dragging you to the altar so fast it will make your head spin.’
‘What? You wouldn’t!’
‘Oh, wouldn’t I?’
‘No, now look here, Lady Harriet—’
‘Oh, don’t worry. The ordeal of being shackled to you for the rest of my life does not appeal. In the slightest. I’m just reminding you that I have as much on you as you have on me.’
At that point, they reached the chair upon which Aunt Susan was sitting, beaming at them.
‘Your niece, Lady Tarbrook,’ said Lord Becconsall, letting go of her hand as though it was red hot and making his bow rather stiffly. He then gave her a look which seemed two parts frustration and one part irritation, before turning and marching away, his back ramrod stiff.
‘Harriet, I despair of you,’ said her aunt as Harriet sank to the chair at her side, her knees shaking, her palms sweating and her insides feeling as if they were performing acrobatics.
‘There you had the chance of making a conquest of one of the most elusive bachelors in Town, and what must you do but frighten the poor man off. Whatever did you say to him on the dance floor to make him run away like that?’
She considered for a moment.
‘Only that I had no wish to marry him, when he raised the subject,’ she said daringly.
‘What!’ Aunt Susan looked aghast. ‘You turned down a proposal from Lord Becconsall? Not that I can believe he really did propose. Although,’ she mused, fanning herself rapidly, ‘he really is such a very harum-scarum young man it is probably exactly the sort of thing he would do. To fall in love at first sight and propose in the middle of Astley’s Hornpipe.’
Of course he hadn’t fallen in love at first sight. Nor had he proposed. But something inside her softened towards her aunt for believing he could easily have done both.
However, ‘You cannot wish me to marry a...harum-scarum young man, can you?’
‘What can that matter when it would be such a triumph for you? Oh, I know he is only a viscount and one would, in the normal way of things, hope for a much better match for a girl of your background, but the way your training has been neglected one cannot expect a man with very nice tastes to look twice at you.’
The soft feeling chilled into the more usual wedge of inferiority and loneliness with which Harriet was familiar.
‘Not once he’s seen your performance on the dance floor,’ Aunt Susan continued. ‘My dear, what were you thinking, to collide with Lady Vosborough in that clumsy way? Unless Lord Becconsall had just that moment proposed. Yes, I suppose that would have shocked you enough to make a misstep completely understandable.’
‘Well, yes, it would,’ said Harriet, deciding that this had gone far enough. ‘But—’
‘If he proposes again, or if any gentleman proposes to you again,’ continued Aunt Susan as though she hadn’t spoken, ‘you are not to turn him down out of hand. You are to tell him you will reflect upon the matter and come to me, and I will advise you. I know all there is to know about any gentleman who might propose, you may be sure.’
Although Harriet really had no intention of marrying Lord Becconsall, even if he ever did propose, which he’d just informed her he wouldn’t, she couldn’t help indulging her curiosity.
‘What should I know about Lord Becconsall, then?’ she said in as meek a tone as she could muster. Whilst looking down at her fingers as they played with the struts of her fan.
‘Oh, so it is like that, is it?’ Aunt Susan smiled. ‘Well, in that case, we might still be able to repair the damage. I can drop a word in his ear,’ she said, patting her hand.
‘What? No! I mean, I’m sure that is very kind of you, Aunt, but—’
But Aunt Susan had got the bit between her teeth.
‘Lord Becconsall has a very handsome fortune, my dear, and a couple of really lovely estates. All kept in immaculate condition by his family for generations. I admit, since he has come into the title, he has not behaved with—that is, he has gained a reputation for being something of a...wastrel, let us say, but then what can you expect? I mean, he never expected to inherit anything, I shouldn’t think, what with having two such strapping older brothers.’
‘Oh?’ It felt strange to think he, like her, was the youngest out of a handful of brothers. ‘What happened to them?’
‘Oh, you need not worry about any sort of hereditary weakness that might carry him off the same way,’ said Aunt Susan, completely missing the point. ‘No, the eldest fell from his horse and broke his neck.’
Harriet winced.
‘And the next in line contracted...well, a most unpleasant illness which was the scourge of the district at the time. Which came as a very great shock to everyone. Particularly him, I should think. Why, he probably assumed he would spend the rest of his life in the army. Where, I must say, he did at least acquit himself with honours. Though he only came out with the rank of major,’ she mused. ‘Although that was probably as much to do with finances as anything,’ she added, brightening up. ‘As the third son, I don’t suppose he had much in the way of money to buy promotions. Oh. It has just occurred to me—yes, it probably went to his head, suddenly having so much money and the title as well. Is it any wonder he went just a little...wild? Just at first. I am sure he will settle down and do his duty to his family. Perhaps he is already starting to think along those lines. Yes,’ she said, brightening up. ‘Perhaps that is why he asked you to dance.’
Harriet swallowed, knowing it was no such thing.
But Aunt Susan was sitting there, plotting and planning ways and means of getting him to propose to her.
Because, deep down, she thought her niece only good enough to marry a...wastrel.
Worse, said wastrel had no intention of marrying her. Had indeed scuttled away with his tail between his legs at the merest threat he might have to do something so abhorrent should their kiss become common knowledge.
* * *
She was still seething by the time they called for their carriage. Which was an utterly stupid thing to do, since their own house was not two hundred yards away. They could have walked home far quicker. But, no, in London, ladies waited for the horses to be put to and the carriage to be brought round, rather than do anything as prosaic as walk home.
Oh, how she hated London tonight. Why had she listened to Aunt Susan’s tales of balls and picnics and beaux? Why had she allowed herself to get swept along on the tide of Kitty’s enthusiasm at the prospect of them making their come-out together?
Because, she answered herself as she clambered into the coach behind her two female relatives, Aunt Susan and Kitty had made her feel wanted, that was why. It would never have occurred to either of her parents that it was high time their only daughter made her social debut. And if it had, neither of them would have wanted to oversee it. Papa hated London and Mama considered it all a ridiculous waste of time and expense.
She sighed, and in the darkness of the coach, reached out and took Aunt Susan’s gloved hand. It was not her fault Harriet had not, so far, found her feet in society. Her aunt had done all she could.
Nor could Harriet blame her for believing she was only fit to marry a wastrel. Not when she was so awkward, and...yes, rebellious, as Lord Becconsall had pointed out.
As the coach rumbled through the darkened streets, and Kitty prattled on about the many and various partners with whom she’d danced, Harriet wondered how she was going to break it to Aunt Susan that not even the wastrel looked on her as a potential bride.
Though time would probably take care of that. Since, after the way they’d just parted, he’d probably take good care not to come anywhere near her, ever again.
Chapter Five (#uab8dd46f-076a-5ef6-b8a7-a4fdff1b2b36)
Jack couldn’t face returning to Becconsall House, the town house that now belonged to him. It was too full of ghosts.
Besides, he was still too unsettled after his encounter with Hope. Who’d turned out to be...of all things, the daughter of an earl. He certainly hadn’t expected that. To think that the owner of those sparkling blue eyes, that tart tongue, and those lush lips, was not only a lady, but a lady.
He shook his head as he strolled aimlessly along the street. What had she been thinking, going out at that hour of the day without an escort? If she’d run into anyone but him, in the park, she would have ended up getting far more than just a kiss.
She was so...naive, that was the word. And she had no idea of the effect she had on men.
Although, to be frank, if he’d seen her for the first time tonight, he wouldn’t have looked at her twice. If he hadn’t seen the other side of her, in the park, he would never have suspected she possessed anything to take a man’s interest, except for her rank. The silly gown, and the even sillier hairstyle, completely distracted a man from noticing the subtle curve of her mouth, or the determined set of her chin, or the intelligence and wit lurking in the depths of her eyes. Not to mention the lush curves of her body.
Lush curves he’d held against his own body and would very much like to feel pressed closely to him again. The urge to do something about it had taken him by surprise, several times, while they’d been dancing. Even though she’d been doing nothing to attempt to interest him. On the contrary, she’d been all bristles and spikes.
Which had soon stopped him from feeling sorry for her. Nobody could possibly feel sorry for a girl with as much spirit as that, not for long.
