A Reformed Rake (16 page)

Françoise felt ambivalent toward this new relative. She liked the way he made her think, made her react to him. She did not think she would like having to knuckle under to him, and she feared it would come to that if she could not somehow escape a future which fate had handed her in the form of the evil comte, and return with Grand-mere to Lake Como. She would think on it.

Thankfully, the door opened and Yves and Elizabeth returned to the room. Françoise wondered if Sir Frederick had gone and assumed Harriet attended Madame in her room. Or perhaps Sir Frederick had joined Lord Halford in his office? she thought.

But Françoise was wrong. Harriet was
not
with Madame. Nor was Sir Frederick with his friend. They stood together in the breakfast room window overlooking the back garden, but neither saw bright flowers bordering the well-swept gravelled paths.

“Harriet, you are merely stubborn,” growled Sir Frederick.

“I am not. You say the comte’s man is in London, again tracking us down, and you say we must do nothing, must go on as we have. It will not do. Françoise must be protected.”

“Françoise
will
be protected. How may I convince you?”

Harriet turned away, biting her lip. “I think her grandfather should immediately carry her off to his most medieval castle and lock her up in a tower!”

“You think nothing of the sort!”

She chuckled, but it was a weak sound. “It would not do, of course. Françoise, being Françoise, would climb out a window and down the ivy or into the branches of a nearby tree and run away.
She
wouldn’t put up with it.”

“Her best chance of escaping the comte is to marry someone else.”

“Who?” Harriet had a moment’s suspicion he meant himself.

Frederick waved a hand. “How should I know? The season is about to begin, in fact,
has
begun. She will be presented. And she will
take,
which means she’ll be inundated with suitors. Surely someone amongst them will catch her eye.”

The suspicion fading, Harriet remained silent for a moment. “You believe the comte will give up when she weds?” She thought about it. “He has tried poison in the past. And in Italy he frightened the young men into deserting her. Will not any serious suitor for her hand be in danger?”

Frederick blinked. “Good heavens, Harriet, I must admit that thought had not occurred to me!” He took another turn around the room.

“Sir Frederick, I cannot help being a puddin’ heart—as your odd tiger might say,” she added quickly. “I’m frightened for her. Oh why did that spy have to discover the trick you played on him so quickly!”

“Since he is watching
me,
it means he has not yet discovered where we’ve placed his quarry.”

“But he must have followed you
here
.”

“Ah, but a morning call is nothing to concern him. And once we leave I will lead him a merry chase, I assure you.”

“You have a plan?”

“Yes. I think it would do him good to lurk in the damp miasma ever present near the river on the outskirts of Chelsea. Perhaps it will settle on his lungs and carry him off!” finished Frederick half spitefully and half seriously.

“The damp? Near Chelsea?” Harriet blinked rapidly, trying to think why. “But why would he do
that
?” she asked when she found no answer.

Frederick grinned. “I have friends in the oddest places. A young, hmm,
actress
of my acquaintance lives there. She fell into what she calls the honey pot not long ago—having earned herself a small fortune, you see—and has retired. And,” he added when Harriet frowned, “she has the look of your Françoise.”

“An
acquaintance,
Sir Frederick?”

“Yes.” He kept his voice carefully neutral.

“A friend of a friend, perhaps?”

He smiled. “You are sharp as a tack, Harriet. I’d hoped to rouse the demon jealousy in your breast.” He sighed dramatically. “Ah well. Yes, a friend of a friend, one far better heeled than I was at the time. I could never have afforded the, er, lady. He was more than generous when he gave her her congé, giving her a little house and a life annuity and, as I said, she’s retired. More or less.”

“But won’t you put
her
in danger?”

“I think not. The spy will watch her, thinking she is Françoise kept out of the way. I will ask that she have a friend,
a tall blond friend
,” he added, looking up and down Harriet’s slim form, “to stay with her. When Cheviot finally arrives, as he will, he will know it is the wrong woman, of course.”

“At which point the spy will come back to you as his only lead, and you will know Henri has arrived on the scene.”

“What a mind the woman has!”

“Anyone of normal intelligence must think the same,” she said defensively, hating it when he teased her.

“I think not. Do not try to suppress your intelligence, Harriet. I like it.”

“Then I should become as stupid as possible. You would leave me be and find someone else to harass.”

“Harass? Harriet, my love, you wound me. I am not harassing you.”

She shrugged, then turned away. “Call it what you will. I find you irritating—and cruel.”

Frederick turned her, grasped the hands she tried to keep from him and held them tightly. “I wish very much you would not misinterpret everything I say to you, Harriet. If only you would trust me to know what I feel. If only you would trust me, period.”

“I dare not trust you,” she said, her voice sounding in her own ears as if she were strangling.

“You will. Somehow, someway, I will teach you to trust me.”

“
Why
?”

“Because I have, my sweeting, lost my heart to you. To regain it, I must also gain yours.”

Tears moistened her eyes, and she closed them tightly. “Oh, you flirt and tease and are
cruel
.”

“I see there is to be no understanding from you today and, since the time for a polite morning call has gone by, we must leave or perhaps we will rouse the curiosity of the spy. But, remember, Harriet, that I love you and someday you will admit you are not indifferent toward me. When that day comes, I’ll be the happiest man alive.” He backed off, stared at her for a moment, bowed, and strode from the room.

Harriet collapsed into a convenient chair and allowed the tension to drain from her. Someday she
would
weaken, and the man would break through her control and, indeed, he would be happy. He would have her right where, for reasons she could not fathom, he wanted her. A lady in her situation
must
retain her reputation or find herself in truly desperate straits. Succumbing to Sir Frederick’s wiles would be folly. She’d be lost. Oh the man was a monster!

Harriet remembered the warmth of his hands as he’d held hers, the comforting strength of them.
It wouldn’t
,
thought Harriet, somewhat desperately,
be
quite
so bad, if only she needn’t fight
herself
as well as fight him when they were together.

An old thought entered her rampaging mind, and she pressed a hand to her heart. If she believed his pursuit of herself was merely a ruse to throw the scent away from his true quarry, then who was that quarry? What if it were not Françoise as she’d assumed? Harriet’s head tipped to one side, the straight brows very nearly meeting between her eyes. She frowned ferociously. She’d always thought it Frani, but perhaps it was Elizabeth? The scowl deepened still more. She was still scowling when Halford entered the breakfast room.

“What is the matter, Miss Cole? I thought Frederick was to explain to you our newest gambit for misleading the enemy.”

“He did.” Harriet breathed deeply, forced her hands to lay quietly in her lap. “For the nonce it will give Frani a measure of freedom, since the spy will remain, one hopes, at his post in Chelsea. How long it will answer is moot, of course.”

“Is that why you frown so?” Halford’s brows formed their own frown. “That it is not a permanent solution, I mean.”

“Frown?” Harriet cast about in her mind for an excuse but could find none. Without her being aware, a
faint blush
rose up her neck and into her cheeks. “Was I frowning?”

“You were. About Fred, I suspect. Frederick tells me you are the most untrusting lady of his acquaintance and, since there have been many such in his past, I find that something of an achievement on your part, Miss Cole. Congratulations on being unique in your ability to disconcert him!”

“You are teasing me. It is not kind of you.” “Frederick has honored me with the information he wishes you for his wife.”

The blush reached major proportions. “The man is a monster. How dare he tell you such lies?”

“Frederick does not lie.”

Harriet’s eyes rose to meet Robert’s direct gaze, a pleading look in hers. “I do not understand him.”

“ ’Tis simple enough, Miss Cole. All you must do is believe him sincere.”

“He is a rake.”

“Reformed?”

“Oh, it is too absurd. His attentions have always been given lovely and popular young women. Young ladies much given to flirtation. I am a spinster. I am not an antidote, but I’m nothing like those on whom his eye has fallen in the past.” She realized her fingers were twisting together painfully and forced them, once again, to relax. “It makes no sense, my lord. None.”

“Time will prove him to you, I believe,” soothed Robert, realizing the depth of her disturbance. “Perhaps I could turn your thoughts to a happier subject.” His tone teased and drew from her another wary look. “I understand an old friend of yours has arrived in town.” Harriet rose to her feet, Robert automatically rising as well, the ways of a gentleman ingrained into him to the point he needn’t even think about it. He smiled, and Harriet returned it, pleasure dawning slowly and erasing her former mood.

“Can you guess?” he teased.

“Joanna!”

“Yes,” he said, pleased he’d given her thoughts a new and more pleasant direction. “Lady Jo—or, as one should now say, Her Grace. When I informed Pierce and Jo of our guest, Miss Harriet Cole, Jo became excessively excited. She insisted on coming immediately to see you, Miss Cole.”

“How delightful.”

“She will arrive any moment now. If you go to the library, you will have the privacy old friends long parted desire. I’ll tell Marks to show Her Grace in when she arrives.”

“I could not deprive you of your library, Lord Halford.”

“You will not do so. I am off immediately.”

“To one of your clubs, my lord?”

“To Tattersall’s. There is a mare at which Sir Frederick has asked me to look and perhaps put a bid in on. He cannot do it himself since he is forced by circumstances to take a drive out to Chelsea.”

Harriet’s color faded slightly and again a faint wariness entered her eyes. “A mare, my lord?”

“Yes. Fred thinks it will make a spirited lady’s mount.” Harriet’s eyebrows rose. She pretended indifference. “Then, of course, you must see to its immediate acquisition, my lord. His current ladylove will be impatient to receive the gift.”

“So he hopes, but he believes there is little likelihood of her making use of it in the near future. She is stubborn, you see.”

At the dry note reminiscent of Sir Frederick, Harriet glanced at her host. “Lord Halford...”

“Yes, Miss Cole?” he asked with pretended innocence.

“Ah, no ... it was nothing.”

“I believe you prevaricate and it actually was
something
,” he teased. “And the answer to your unasked question is yes. I truly believe my friend has, at last, lost his heart, and I can only wish him well.”

Robert bowed and left her. Harriet’s agile mind took his last comment and pursued it along the lines suggested. Sir Frederick had loved Elizabeth. Lord Halford was concerned about his friend’s feelings for his wife. If Sir Frederick pursued Harriet,
seriously
pursued her, then Lord Halford could believe the old passion dead. And if Sir Frederick still felt deeply for his friend’s wife, he would do whatever necessary to mislead his friend, Lord Halford.

Even to the point where he’d marry a tall beanpole of a woman with neither fortune nor status? But someone as unimportant as herself would have no champions on whom she could call if the marriage turned out to be a sham. Her uncles, following the lead of her grandfathers who should have taken her part, had long ago washed their hands of her father and mother and, as a result, of herself. Oh, it was all so dreadful. If only her heart would behave, would stop yearning for the love she
knew
would be denied her.

To the devil with Sir Frederick Carrington anyway. He had no right to be so attractive to her. The emotions making her blood flow faster only confused her and made rational thought next to impossible!

Made it
more
than
impossible:
Unruly thoughts took a far from modest and ladylike turn so that Harriet was actually relieved when Marks announced Joanna and she was forced to stop daydreaming. Harriet rose to her feet, a glad smile lighting her face. “Jo! Oh, you have not changed a jot!”