The Perfect Mistress (15 page)

“Wise?”

The Marquess of Kingsbury hobbled into the room. “I’ve never known you to be devious.”

Harrison busied himself with the papers on his desk. “I am not being devious.”

His father snorted and settled in the chair in front of the desk.

“How much did you hear?” Harrison said under his breath without looking up.

“Enough.”

Harrison did not respond but he could feel his father’s gaze on him.

“I don’t care, you know.” The older man sighed. “About the memoirs.”

At that, Harrison looked up. “How do you know about the memoirs?”

“Veronica told me. She thought you had already mentioned them.” Father met his gaze directly. “You should have told me.”

“I did not want to upset you.”

“Rubbish.” He snorted. “You didn’t tell me because you suspected I would find the whole thing amusing.” Laughter shone in his eyes. “And indeed I do.”

“There is nothing amusing about scandal.” Harrison winced to himself at the pompous note in his voice.

“When you get to be my age, the idea of being embroiled in scandal, no matter how long ago the incidents in question might have occurred, is rather exciting.” He chuckled. “Brings back all sorts of fond memories. Makes you feel young again.”

Harrison fixed his father with a firm look. “Nonetheless, it is my responsibility to prevent scandal from touching this family.”

“And you take your responsibilities entirely too seriously.”

“One of us should.”

“And I have left it to you. My apologies.” Father sighed. “It’s entirely my fault, I suppose.”

“Of course it is. If you hadn’t been so indiscreet and free with your favors—”

He laughed. “I have no regrets on that particular score. Admittedly, if I had my life to live over I might not make all the same decisions. I do have a few regrets but there is not a great deal I would change. I have enjoyed my life and as there is more behind me than ahead, I daresay not everyone can say that.” He sobered. “No, my apologies, my boy, are not for how I have lived but for what I have done to you.”

“To me?” Surprise coursed through Harrison. “What have you done to me?”

Father shook his head. “I thrust the responsibility of managing this family’s affairs upon your shoulders far sooner than I should have.”

Harrison shrugged. “You were ill and there was no other choice.”

“Yes, but I recovered. Rather quickly if memory serves. I should have relieved you of those duties then.” He shook his head. “But I confess I had no desire to do so.”

“That was ten years ago. I was more than prepared to accept my responsibilities.”

“Through no fault of mine.”

“Are you displeased with my management?”

“Not in the least. You are far more capable and competent than I ever was. We would no doubt be penniless by now if I had not handed the reins over to you.” Father heaved a resigned sigh. “You have both a natural affinity for finances and estate affairs, as well as a passion for such things, that I never had. It must have come from your mother’s side of the family. My passions run in an entirely different direction.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “And no.” He paused. “I am quite proud of you, my boy. You should know that.”

Harrison raised a brow. “But?”

“But you take life entirely too seriously.”

“And you have never taken it seriously enough.”

“Perhaps.” The old man grinned. “Although perhaps that’s what has kept me alive as well.” He sighed. “I worry about you, my boy.”

“You needn’t.” Harrison’s manner was gruff, as if to hide the fact that he was oddly touched by his father’s concern. They rarely spoke about anything of substance.

Father considered him for a long moment. “I would like, just once, to see you do what you want to do rather than what you think you should. To surrender to desire rather than be a slave to duty. To listen to your heart and not your head.”

“As you have?”

He chuckled. “We are extremes, you and I. Opposite ends of the spectrum as it were.” He met his son’s gaze. “The perfect man would be a combination of us both.”

“No man is perfect, Father.”

“Nor is any woman. No matter how perfect she may appear,” his father added in an overly casual manner.

Harrison narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to say something specific or is this just random philosophizing on your part?”

“I’m trying to say there is no one less suited to you than your Miss Waverly.”

“She is not my Miss Waverly. I have not yet begun my campaign to win her hand.” He frowned. “How do you know of my interest in Miss Waverly?”

“How do you think?”

“Of course.” Harrison huffed. “Veronica.”

“Do not forget, I too met Miss Waverly last night. And I saw the way you looked at her.”

He heaved a resigned sigh. “And how did I look at her?”

“You looked at her as though assessing a good investment.”

“She is,” he muttered. “As well as a per—appropriate choice for a match.”

“The appropriate choice for a match is the woman who captures your heart.”

“Love?” Harrison leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Exactly.”

“Because that served you so well?”

Father shook his head. “No, because I passed it by.”

Harrison studied him. “I know there was no overt affection between you and Mother.”

“Nonsense. We were very fond of each other. But no, she was not the great love of my life nor was I the love of hers.” He paused for a long moment. “Love did not seem so important then. In hindsight, I think it was the only thing that was important. Still, circumstances and all that.” He shrugged. “What’s done is done. I hate to see you make the mistakes I made.”

“There is little chance of that,” Harrison said wryly.

“No, you shall no doubt make mistakes entirely different but mistakes they shall be.” He rose to his feet. “I think this scheme you have hatched to wrest the memoirs from Lady Winterset is a mistake.”

“Father.” He sighed. “It is not as if I am going to steal from her. She will get a very handsome payment. Enough to ease her financial woes for some time to come.”

“She will be furious when she learns the truth.”

“I have no intention of allowing her to learn the truth.”

“Secrets, no matter how old or how well kept, inevitably surface. Usually when they are least expected.”

“Lady Winterset is not my concern.”

“Pity.” He thought for a moment. “She resembles her great-grandmother, you know. That fair hair and green eyes must run in the blood.”

“I did not know, nor do I care.”

His father ignored him. “She was a fine woman and I was very young.” He chuckled. “She taught me a great deal.”

“So I have read.”

“Ah, yes. Veronica said you had a copy of the pertinent chapter.” He paused. “I should like to read it.”

Harrison widened his eyes. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“It is about me, after all. I should like to make sure it’s … accurate.”

Harrison groaned. “One can only hope it isn’t.”

“Given the look on your face, I suspect it must be.” Father grinned in a wicked manner. “And I do want to read it.”

“Very well.” Harrison opened his top desk drawer, pulled out the scandalous pages, and handed them to his father.

“Memories, my boy.” He glanced at the papers in his hand. “There is a point in life when what has passed is so much more interesting than what lies ahead.” He looked up and met his son’s gaze. “This plan of yours, it’s beneath you. And I don’t like it.”

“Are you forbidding me then?”

“I gave up the right to forbid you to do anything long ago. Although I remain the official head of the family until I breathe my last, in truth, that title belongs to you.” He scoffed. “Not that there is much family remaining to speak of. You do need to marry, you know. Continue the line and all that.”

“I fully intend to, Father.”

“Miss Waverly is not the woman for you.”

Harrison’s jaw tightened. “Father.”

“She is yet another mistake.”

“Well, then she will be my mistake,” he said. “Not that she is.”

“Hmph. We shall see.” Father turned and walked awkwardly toward the door. “I do intend to live long enough to dance at your wedding, regardless of whether or not I agree with your choice of bride.”

“I appreciate that.”

He paused at the door. “Charles wouldn’t approve of it either.”

“Of what, Father?” Harrison said in a weary manner.

“Miss Waverly and your scheme to get the memoirs.”

“Charles is dead.”

“He was a good man.” Father stepped through the doorway.

“He was exactly like you,” Harrison called after him.

“That’s what made him a good man.” The door closed behind his father.

Harrison sank back in his chair and blew a long breath. He didn’t like being chastised, especially for doing what he thought needed to be done. But his father was right: this plan of his was beneath him. Brilliant perhaps but not especially honorable. Still, one did what one had to do to protect one’s family. Besides, whether Julia took his offer or accepted Ellsworth’s proposal, she would be well provided for financially. And those tiny lines of worry around her eyes that marred her lovely face would vanish. He was doing this as much for her as for his own purposes. If it required a bit of deception to accomplish, so be it.

Damnation. He got to his feet and paced the room. It was all Julia’s fault really. If she’d been reasonable, blast it all, if she’d simply joined the others for the poetry recitations rather than fleeing, he would have had the opportunity to continue to talk to her. Charm her. He had no doubt he had been most charming. At least until he had begun talking about the capabilities of women. Not that he wasn’t right. Still, he was intelligent enough to understand that was not the way to curry favor with her. Perhaps he should send her flowers as way of an apology although he really shouldn’t need to apologize for expressing his opinions. He blew a long breath. Women were odd, inexplicable creatures. He should probably send Miss Waverly flowers as well, to pave the way for his first visit.

He had chatted with her for a few minutes after the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies. Admittedly her conversation had not been as stimulating as Julia’s but that was to be expected. Miss Waverly was younger and much less experienced socially than Julia. And possibly not as clever, although if she was, she was too well bred to display her intelligence. Even while talking to Miss Waverly, he had noted a certain disappointment that Julia had gone. He had to admit, while it hadn’t been easy, he had quite enjoyed their conversation. Perhaps there was something to be said for cleverness in a women after all.

At least in a friend.

… and, as he knew how very much I like surprises, he planned something quite extraordinary. If you don’t know already, Dear Reader, I should mention that a surprise a man thinks is brilliant and delightful and that which a woman feels is brilliant and delightful are very often completely different. Nonetheless, as long as there is sufficient thought put into the surprise, even if it is to a woman’s mind rather less than brilliant and delightful, it can still be most appealing. Indeed, there is nothing as attractive in a man as effort, no matter how misguided. Although one should tend to avoid gentlemen whose surprises involve exotic animals that require a handler. Unless, of course, one is intrigued by such things …

from
The Perfect Mistress,
the Memoirs of Lady Hermione Middlebury

This was a true delight and one thing in her life she enjoyed without hesitation. Even better, it cost nothing whatsoever.

Julia reveled in the crisp feel of the morning air and set off at a brisk pace. It had been several days since she had last taken a morning constitutional. She just couldn’t seem to find the time although, in truth, she couldn’t understand why not. The park was no more than a few minutes’ walk from her house and while the hour was still early, the streets were already filling with traffic.

She stepped through the park gate and paused, pulling a deep breath of air into her lungs. There was something refreshing and invigorating about the park in the morning. It seeped into her soul and made the very world around her seem brighter somehow, almost as if she wasn’t in the midst of London but rather in the country somewhere, very far away. Where all was calm and serene and soothing.

There was scarcely anyone about at this hour, although the park was far from empty. There would be riders already on Rotton Row but that was on the opposite side of the park and she never went anywhere near there. This afternoon, the park would be crowded with carriages and pedestrians. But at this time of day one could imagine one was very nearly alone and she relished the solitude. It gave her the opportunity to think, to sort things out in her mind. To calm her soul.

She’d received a letter from her grandmother yesterday explaining that it was taking longer than expected to pack her things but she did plan on being in London very soon. Julia hoped she hadn’t changed her mind. If necessary, Julia would fetch her herself. She quite looked forward to her grandmother’s arrival and being able to share her life with the older woman. She sighed. Not that she wasn’t already sharing quarters with an older woman, but of course that one was dead.

She absolutely refused to consider what might happen when Hermione and her daughter were under one roof with her. Perhaps her mother would make an appearance as well? No, that was even more absurd. Her mother’s entire world had consisted of her father and Julia had had little place in it. It was fitting that they had died together in a boating accident as neither one of them could have lived without the other. It was their lack of concern about their daughter that had made her discovery of her grandmother’s existence that much more upsetting. She could have had at least one relation who might have made her a part of their life, rather than an afterthought. She’d often wondered if his large family wasn’t one of the things that had attracted her to William. She snorted to herself. And hadn’t that turned out well.