The Dark Earl (11 page)

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Authors: Virginia Henley

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction, #General

BOOK: The Dark Earl
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“Thank you, Your Grace. It’s more of a personal nature than business.”
“Then have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”
“It is no secret that my father, the Earl of Lichfield, accrued enormous debts due to an excessive lifestyle and an addiction to gambling.”
Abercorn steepled his fingers and listened attentively.
“For some time, he has been in ill health and has perhaps a year left. I am heir to the earldom and Shugborough, but I will inherit no wealth. Though earning money is frowned upon for a gentleman, you are aware that I have a business arrangement with Whitfield Cox to augment my salary from Parliament.”
James Hamilton made no comment; he knew there was more to come.
“I would like to pay court to Lady Harriet, but will not do so without your approval.”
Abercorn smiled. “My dear fellow, I have no objection. You are not your father. But it is Harriet who must decide if she wants you for a suitor. She has a mind of her own, you know.”
“Indeed she has, Your Grace.”
“I find it admirable that you have been so frank about your prospects. There is no shame in business.” His eyes twinkled. “Shugborough is quite an enticement.”
Yes, she’ll get to live at Shugborough, and in the marriage contract, I’ll negotiate that the library and the paintings be returned to where they rightfully belong.
 
 
“I’m a little nervous,” Rachel confessed to Harry as they rang the doorbell at Langham Place.
“No need. The women will welcome another advocate with open arms.”
It was Barbara Leigh Smith herself who opened the door and ushered them inside to join suffragists Emaline Davis, Frances Cobbe, and Millicent Fawcett, among others, who were talking up a storm in Barbara’s sitting room.
“I want you to meet Lady Rachel Russell, who writes women’s romantic fiction and has actually had her books published,” Harry said with pride.
“In a man’s world, that is a rare accomplishment,” Barbara declared. “Welcome to Langham Place, Rachel.”
“Thank you so much. Harriet is presently reading your book, and has promised to let me have it the minute she’s finished.”
Barbara was not wearing a crinoline beneath her calf-length skirt, and the tattoo of a butterfly was clearly displayed on her ankle. Rachel’s eyes widened in shock. Harry’s eyes narrowed with envy.
“And what are
you
reading?” Emaline Davis asked Rachel.
“Wollstonecraft’s book on the education of daughters.”
“I champion
higher
education for women. It is outrageous that neither Oxford nor Cambridge permits women to enroll. We could have our own college—we don’t have to rub shoulders with the male nobs and snobs.”
Harry laughed. “I warrant the men would want to rub more than shoulders!”
The women joined in the laughter. “No doubt we could teach them a few things,” Emaline declared. “I’m going to draw up a petition, so you two young women can sign it before you leave.”
Before the afternoon was over, they spoke not only of women’s rights but also of the plight of poor children, and the squalid state of London’s slums and the unsanitary conditions rife in certain sections of the city. Before they left, Harry and Rachel enthusiastically signed their names to a half dozen petitions.
When the pair left, Harry decided to stop at a shabby row of establishments near London Bridge. She found what she was looking for next door to a cats’ meat shop.
“This is a tattoo parlor,” Rachel pointed out.
“Yes, I know.” She pushed open the door and made the bell jangle.
Rachel followed Harry inside. “You’re not going to get
your
ankle tattooed?”
“Of course not. What would be the point of that? No one would ever see it!”
“Harry, perhaps you should think this through. A tattoo is not something to get impulsively.”
Harry brushed aside Rachel’s protest.
The man inside showed Harry a book of designs and she scrutinized them thoroughly before shaking her head. Then suddenly she knew exactly what she wanted.
“A little green snake!”
Rachel looked as if she might faint.
“Where do ye want it, m’lydy?”
Harry held out her hand and pulled up her sleeve. “Can you put it around my wrist like a bracelet?”
“Fer a guinea, I can put it round anythin’ ye fancy.”
Harry pictured it around her thigh, and then her breast. “The wrist will do nicely.”
When the artist had finished his masterpiece, she held up her arm and admired the tattoo with great delight. Once outside the shop, however, she began to have misgivings.
“I’ll have to keep it covered up until I am brave enough to display it to the world.” Her wrist still throbbed in pain, but she knew that the hurt would be worthwhile, and she was content that the little green snake would be with her forever.
 
The Duchess of Abercorn had decided to accept only the most exclusive invitations during her daughters’ Season. There was no way she would ever decline an invitation to a ball thrown by Charlotte, Duchess of Buccleuch, at Montagu House in Whitehall.
On the day of the ball, Lady Lu cast a worried glance at her eldest daughter, who was wearing a jacket. “Are you cold, Harry? I hope you’re not coming down with something.” She placed her hand on Harriet’s forehead.
“No, of course I’m not cold. I’ve never felt better. I just happen to think this jacket flatters me. I came to beg a favor. Do you think I could borrow one of your bracelets? I particularly like that broad gold cuff you got last Christmas.”
“The cuffs are a pair. You must wear both to make a fashion statement.” The duchess unlocked her jewel chest and handed her the bracelets. “I might as well leave it unlocked—when your sisters see the cuffs, they’ll embark on a treasure hunt.”
Later, when Rachel and her niece were dressing for the ball, she noticed that Harry put on the cuffs before her gown. “No one knows yet?”
Harry shook her head. “I’m such a coward.” She lifted her arms and waved them about. “It doesn’t show, does it?”
“No, it is well hidden. You are not a coward, Harry, but you are extremely impulsive. Sooner or later—”
“Yes, I know, Rachel. But I much prefer
later
rather than
sooner
.”
“Act in haste and repent at leisure.”
“Oh, you sound just like Grandmother.”
“I should,” Rachel replied dryly. “I lived with her for twenty-eight years.”
“I have absolutely no regrets about my tattoo. I adore my little green snake. I simply have to choose the right time to reveal it without shocking everyone’s cockerocity.”
“You stole that word from me,” Rachel said with a smile.
“Who better to steal from than a
wordsmith
?”
Harry’s sisters came into the bedchamber. “How do I look?” Trixy asked anxiously.
“You look very pretty,” Harry assured her. “White and peach are perfect colors for a brunette. And, Jane, I can’t believe how grown-up you look tonight.”
“Thank you. I think it’s because I’m wearing Mother’s earrings. My pulse is racing like mad, just thinking about going to Montagu House.”
“Perhaps you’re like me—cannot decide if it’s the
manse
or the
man
that excites you.”
“Oh, it’s definitely Will Montagu,” Jane admitted ingenuously.
“Are you ready, ladies?” their mother called from the foot of the central staircase.
Harry, in a gold and white tissue gown, led the way down.
“Your father will meet us at Montagu House. It’s only a few steps from his Privy Council office.” Her glance swept over her daughters. “I must say the Hamilton ladies will turn every male head tonight. I pity the other females who have accepted Charlotte’s invitation. James, just see if Riley has brought the coach around.”
 
 
At Montagu House, an upstairs chamber had been assigned as a dressing room for female guests. The Duchess of Abercorn paused dramatically at the top of the grand staircase surrounded by her daughters. Above her was a large stained-glass dome that was brilliantly lit to show off its magnificence.
“I am counting on one of you to become the Countess of Dalkeith and future Duchess of Buccleuch. That way, I shall be able to visit Montagu House on a regular basis and descend this staircase with the dramatic flair it deserves.”
Harry paused beside her mother and watched with amused eyes as the gentlemen in the ballroom below gathered and stared up in silent admiration at the tableau of feminine pulchritude. Then they descended the staircase together.
Harry curtsied to the Duchess of Buccleuch, who stood waiting to greet her guests. Though she knew that Lady Charlotte was approximately the same age as her mother, she looked at least ten years older.
I put that down to serving as Mistress of the Robes to Victoria for five years.
“Your Grace, thank you for your lovely invitation.”
William Montagu stood with his mother to greet their guests, while his father, the duke, stood to one side in conversation with three other men. Will took Harry’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Welcome to Montagu House, Lady Harriet.”
She winked at him and murmured, “If you do this to Jane, she will faint with excitement.”
“If you promise me the first dance, I’ll ask Jane for the second,” he bargained.
“Done!” Harry moved on quickly so her sisters could have at him.
Abercorn was one of the men talking to Buccleuch. She curtsied prettily to her host and stood on tiptoe to kiss her father. “Did you hear the one about the Irishman and the Scot who walked into a tavern and—”
Walter Montagu, whose brogue was far thicker than his son’s, threw back his head and roared with laughter, while her father’s eyes twinkled at her jest.
“She’s a right saucy lassie, James. If I were ten years younger, I’d be chasin’ her.”
“And I’d let you catch me, Your Grace.”
Abercorn greeted his wife. “Hello, darling. You look ravishing tonight.”
“Does that mean you’ll be coming home with me?” she asked with mock alarm.
“Would that be inconvenient?” he teased.
“Well, you know what the French say:
Marriage is so difficult, it takes three to make it work
.” Lady Lu wafted her fan. “Ah, here comes Lansdowne. . . . I’ve promised the marquis the first dance.”
Harry exchanged an amused glance with her father. Lansdowne was at least seventy.
When the music began, Will Montagu claimed his partner.
“Have you set the date yet for our visit to Hazard House?”
Will nodded. “Aye, keep Thursday of next week open. Our brothers John and James will join us. I take it Lady Rachel will be coming? Do you think I should invite Captain Butler?”
“No, please don’t. It might give him a disgust of her if he thought she frequented gaming hells. We are trying to do it on the quiet, Will.”
Before the dance ended, she saw Lord Anson arrive, and she felt her heart do a little flutter. “There’s Thomas. Thank you for inviting him.”
“I had to insist, over Mother’s reservations. She considers Lichfield beyond the pale. But when Father backed me up, she retreated with grace.” He waggled his eyebrows. “She’d die of shock if she found out we planned to visit Hazard House. But of course, she has no notion that such places even exist.”
When the dance was over, Thomas Anson walked a direct path to her and asked formally, “May I have the next dance, Lady Harriet?”
“You may, my lord, but please call me Harry. I love the way Will rolls the r’s in
Harriet
, but it sounds hideous when anyone else says it.”
“You don’t care for your name?”
“It would be wicked of me to say I hated it. My father’s mother was Harriet. She died shortly after my parents were married. My parents wanted to honor her memory. Can I do less?” She smiled softly. “But I do prefer
Harry
.”

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