To Ruin a Rake (31 page)

Her sister, she’d been informed, had taken to her room early and was already asleep. Eager to avoid any questions concerning the night’s events, Harriett had gone to bed herself at once.

But not to sleep. Her dreams would be full of him. How could they not? To awaken to reality after reliving bliss would be unbearable. Unable to close her eyes, she’d lain awake until the maids began to move about in the predawn. By the time the eastern horizon had begun to pale, she was already passing London’s outskirts.

Breathing deeply, Harriett willed the wheels to go faster. They traveled light, for her luggage was minimal. Out here there would be no need for fancy gowns and finery. She’d taken only two of her better dresses in case anyone of consequence heard tell of her being in residence and came to call. She doubted they would. Her plan was to arrive as quietly as possible and remain inconspicuous.

No one but the midwife and a few well-paid servants even knew Arabella was there. She had been smuggled in and kept in relative isolation at Papa’s little “seclusion cottage” down by the lake. The small but comfortable little house had long served as his haven from what he called “the constant feminine uproar” he suffered while at the manor.

A rueful smile tugged at her mouth. Though Papa had never breathed so much as a single remark to the effect, she knew having four daughters and no male issue had been both a trial and a sore disappointment.

There would be plenty to do besides play nursemaid to her sister. In addition to sending notice to the Hospital’s governors and staff, she had letters to write to Lily and several of her other friends. They all deserved a plausible, if false, explanation for her sudden departure. There were the manor’s ledgers to review and reconcile, and Papa had charged her with inventorying their furnishings.

He’d finally taken her advice regarding retrenchment. After the Season, their London townhouse would continue to serve as his main residence while he rented out the manor until his debts were paid. He would be on his own, for Arabella would come to live with her and Russell at Woburn Abbey.

That was one decision she’d made without consulting either of her younger sisters. Arabella could not stay with Cat and Hammond. No matter how much Cat loved Bella, Harriett knew the first time Hammond behaved amiably toward his wife’s errant live-in sibling it would inspire suspicion and jealousy.

At least one of the Dunhaven sisters would have a happy marriage.

Looking out of the window, Harriett scanned for familiar landmarks. The sun was now in the west. They ought to be close. The wood cleared a bit as they crested a hill, and in the distance she saw the tip of a white steeple peeking out above the treetops. They’d made it to Englefield. Cranemoor and the lake would be just beyond.

She relaxed. Not long now and she would be free of the confines of this beastly carriage. Yet again, she attempted to shift and find a better position. There was none. Still achy and sore from her illicit lovemaking, she longed for a softer seat that did not jolt her every few seconds. Propping a pillow up beside her, she leaned against it, taking a little of the pressure off her derriere. Uncomfortable as she was, the rocking motion of the carriage combined with the day’s warmth at last lulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It was approaching twilight when she awoke and peered out into the gloaming. The sight that greeted her was a most welcome one indeed—home. The small but proud manor stood like a fine jewel set amid green lawns and orchards. She hated to think of anyone else living here, even though she knew she’d soon have another, far grander house to care for as Lady Russell.

The carriage hit a particularly nasty rut in the road, flinging her back against the squabs. Cursing, she righted herself and prepared to get out at the earliest possible opportunity. It was not long in the coming, thank heaven.

As soon as the conveyance rolled to a stop, she alighted, glad to be back on solid ground. No one came out to greet her, for there had not been time to send word ahead. No matter. Her room would be made ready quickly enough. Meanwhile, she would have a bath and a bite of whatever was available. Perhaps she’d even take dinner in the kitchen.

With a pang, she was reminded of the countless times she’d supped with Mrs. Glasse down in the Hospital’s kitchen. It would never happen again. Those days were now gone.

Before she could lift the ornate brass knocker, the front door was flung open and a head poked out. The woman’s cap was askew, a few wild curls of graying brown hair straggling out from beneath its ruffled edge. On seeing Harriett, the familiar, plump face below it broke into a bright smile.

“Bless my soul!” hooted Mrs. Jenkins, the housekeeper. “We weren’t expectin’ you for another fortnight.” Her brows lowered with concern. “Is everything all right, then?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jenkins. Everything is quite fine.” She nodded in greeting at Katelyn, Mrs. Jenkins’s daughter-recently-become-maid, who’d appeared beside her. “I came early because Arabella wrote and asked after my company.”

The housekeeper’s face scrunched in distress. “Poor mite,” she murmured, shaking her head as they entered the house. “It’s a tragedy. His lordship can trust in us to keep it under our hats, though, m’lady. We know it weren’t her fault. The blackguard what done the deed ought to hang, he ought. I hope they catch him, and I hope they make the noose good and tight,” she finished, her tone venomous.

Whatever tale her sister had fabricated to explain herself, Harriett didn’t want to contradict it so she kept her mouth shut and nodded agreement. Mrs. Jenkins was terribly biased when it came to Arabella and would’ve believed whatever story she was told.

The kindly housekeeper had always held a special affection for Arabella. Thanks to a flooded ford on the night of Arabella’s birth, the midwife had been unable to attend, so Mrs. Jenkins had been the one to deliver her. A year later after Mama died giving birth to Cat, Mrs. Jenkins had in many ways become a mother to Harriett’s younger sisters. She’d even nursed Cat alongside her own newborn son, Paul, who was now apprenticed to the village blacksmith.

When drawing up the list of those who would accompany Arabella to Berkshire, Harriett had put Mrs. Jenkins’ name at the top. Papa had argued against it, afraid she would be too lenient, but in the end Harriett had won. No one was more loyal, after all, and secrecy was imperative. It had comforted her to know Arabella had the mother of her heart by her side.

“How goes it with my sister?” she asked, anxious for news. “Is she in good health?”

“She is, God bless her. I prepare her meals every day with my own two hands, I do. Sadly, my old knees—being what they are—don’t allow me to visit her every day,” added the housekeeper with a grimace. “So I send her my Katie, instead. They’ve become good friends, those two, even though I know it ain’t quite proper and all.” Her cheeks pinked.

It was a gross understatement, considering the circumstances. Arabella, no matter how she’d told Mrs. Jenkins it had come about, was in a state of disgrace. For Mrs. Jenkins to allow her young, innocent daughter to fraternize with “soiled goods” was beyond the pale, even as close as they were.

“She gets so lonely down there with none but old Mrs. Whipple for company,” continued Mrs. Jenkins. “I always tell Katie to stay until they’re finished eating—so as to bring back the dishes to be washed, you see.” She winked. “I know the master said to leave her be, but it just ain’t right for a young girl to have no one at all to talk to.”

Something of Harriett’s concern regarding the statement must have shown on her face, for Mrs. Jenkins raised her chin. “Bella hasn’t breathed a word to my Katie about how...” The color in her face deepened, and she cleared her throat. “Well, she promised me she wouldn’t, and I
know
she’s kept her word. She’s a good girl, our Bella. Such a tragedy...”

Harriett relaxed. “Your kindness is most appreciated, Mrs. Jenkins. And know, too, that I and the rest of my family join you in wishing swift justice upon the one who committed the crime,” she added before the suspicious sniffles issuing from the woman’s bent head could grow into anything more dramatic.

Mrs. Jenkins’ looked up again, fire flaring in her moist eyes. “She won’t even speak the devil’s name, poor child. Oh, I
do
hope they catch the blackguard, m’lady! Tyburn’s probably too good for the likes, but I hope they hang the scoundrel high, just the same.”

“I’m sure they will,” Harriett agreed, despite knowing otherwise. It was definitely time to move on to another subject. “The hour is late, but I do hope there is still something left to eat. I had Mary pack me a hamper this morning, but I’d like something more substantial now.”

“Bless me, where are my manners!” exclaimed the housekeeper, clapping a hand to her already skewed cap. “You come right with me this instant. Mrs. Bask made a lovely stew today. It’s still hot in the pot, and I know she baked several loaves of bread this morning. It’s nothing fancy, mind, but it’ll fill your belly right enough. I’ll see to it whilst Jeremy fetches your things and our Katie heats some water. You’ll want a bath after your long journey.”

“That sounds heavenly,” Harriett replied with a sigh. Hot water would indeed be most welcome, and not exclusively for its cleansing properties. The soreness between her legs was such that every step was a trial.

Mrs. Jenkins beamed. “We’ll have everything ready for you before you can blink. Do you want to be served in the dining room or—”

“Oh, heavens no,” Harriett answered, laughing. “There is no need to go to such trouble. I’ll take my meals in the kitchen while I’m here.”

The smile on Mrs. Jenkins’ face broadened a bit further. “We’ve missed you, m’lady. I know my Katie has missed Lady Catherine summat awful. You’ll have to tell us all the news from London.”

As she followed Mrs. Jenkins, Harriett marked that not much appeared to have changed since the last time she’d been here, two years ago. In a way, it was comforting. It was also just a bit sad. Once it rented, everything would be changed to suit the new tenants’ tastes.

The kitchen was warm and inviting, as always. The food was delicious if simple, and the company most welcome. Harriett felt terrible about not going at once to see Arabella, but it was already full dark and the lake house was some distance away down the hill. It would have to wait until morning. She’d take her sister breakfast and surprise her.

Feeling much improved after her supper, she went upstairs to find her room all in order as promised. The bed had been made and turned down, and its warming pan could be found heating up in the hearth. Despite the impending advent of summer, the nights were still quite chilly.

Two footmen bearing an oaken tub came in a few minutes later, followed by several maids carrying buckets of steaming bathwater.

The bath eased Harriett’s travel-weary limbs, as well as her tender nether parts. For the first time since arriving, she allowed herself to think of Roland. He wasn’t “Manchester” to her anymore. He never would be again, not after...

A pang of desire stabbed through her, and her cheeks grew hot. Mentally scolding herself, she dipped a cup of icy water from the side bucket and dashed it across her chest. The chill shock of it did nothing to assuage the heat and longing that had come alive within her.

Cursing under her breath, she rose and dried off roughly, refusing to give in to the temptation to run hands across too sensitive skin. Skin that missed a touch it should never have felt. The memory of his caresses was enough to make her shudder with want, to yearn again for fulfillment.

Shamed that she should be thinking such things, Harriett crammed her nightgown down over her head. The bed warmer was still there beside the fire; however, she didn’t bother using it. Instead, she flung herself on the bed and slipped between the cold sheets with a gasp, hoping the chill would douse the fire in her flesh much as she now doused the lamp on her bedside table.

It didn’t. Tired and frustrated, Harriett lay awake staring at the ceiling and wondering how in heaven’s name she was going to manage marrying Russell. She had to do it, especially now she’d told Papa about his offer. Especially now she’d committed almost as terrible an error in judgment as Arabella
.

A terrifying thought surfaced, a thought that in the rush of her flight from London had not even occurred to her until this very moment.
What if I am with child?

Frantic, she began counting back, ticking off the days on shaking fingers. Two weeks. She would know within two weeks. If her menses did not arrive by then, she would know all was lost. There would be no choice but for her to go to Papa, tell him the truth, and have him approach Roland on her behalf.

Would he remember their encounter? If not, she would be required to prove it had happened. But how?

How could I be so reckless?
For her to have repeated history without paying attention to its lessons—especially with a prime example of error so close at hand—was insanity! She sighed and felt the rise and fall of the shuddering breath beneath her hand, which had drifted down to rest upon her belly. It was as flat as it had ever been, but she knew all too well how quickly that could change
and
how it would change everything in her life along with it. Prospects, plans, friendships—everything.

Her eyes smarted and she swiped at them, angry with herself. Self-castigation, no matter how well-deserved, would do no good. What was done was done, and there was no going back. If she was with child, she would have to find a way to become Lady Manchester. If she was
not
, then she would have a great deal to explain to Russell. There would be little choice but to tell him she and…

William.

She would say it had been William’s doing. It would besmirch his honor, but it was better than the truth. Another shudder ran through her and hot, silent tears welled, spilling down her cheeks and into her hair. She couldn’t bear to think of William now. He’d been so good and kind. But had she ever truly loved him? She’d thought she had, but now she wondered.