The Rogue and I (10 page)

He nodded as if she’d just said she came from Park Lane. “A London girl then?”

“Yes,” she mumbled.

The unspoken fact that she was a Cit hung between them. Someone who was far beneath him in every way. Someone who should really turn on their heel and march away before this did, indeed, end very badly.

Lord Garret stood silently for a moment, then ever so gently took her chin in his hand. His eyes, warm and understanding, probed hers. “Where’s my brave Lady of Shalot then? She’s not going to run off just because of a dukedom and the silly stuff that goes with it.”

Harriet narrowed her eyes up at him, ready to castigate him for brushing the seriousness of the situation aside. Even as happiness unlike she’d ever experienced overtook her. He didn’t care! He really didn’t care that she was no one and he a son of one of the greatest men in the land. If he didn’t, why should she? “
Silly stuff
is hardly how I’d describe it.”

“Oh?” his eyes roamed over her face as though there was no one else in the world but her. “Will you run off then and leave me here with my great, stone house? I promise it is very big and empty. It’s not even mine and it never will be. Shall you leave me to languish away from loneliness?”

“No.” She let out an exaggeratedly resigned sigh and shrugged. “I shall simply have to take on a new role. It’s the only thing for it.”

His gaze brightened and he cupped her cheek. “Really?”

She batted her lashes at him and flashed a cheeky grin. “Mmmm. Just call me pretty, witty Nell.”

He paused for a moment then broke into a brilliant smile. “But she was the king’s most favorite mistress.”

“That’s right. She rose from a brothel and then ruled the roost at court. Why shouldn’t I do the same?” She frowned ever so slightly. “Though I don’t mean to imply I’ve been raised in a brothel.”

He chortled and pulled her close to him in a quick, full-bodied hug. He wrapped her to him, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “Of course you shall rule, but I have something very different in mind for you than the role of mistress.”

Harriet couldn’t believe her ears or the marvelous feel of his body holding hers. She couldn’t recall anything that made her feel more safe and warm than the feel of him hugging her to him.

It was very tempting to ask if he’d just said what she thought. But it seemed like a bad plan to test the fates at this moment. “Then lead me in.”

He took her hand firmly in his, started towards the wide stairs which led up to heavy, wood doors. His foot rested on the step and he turned back to her. “Just one thing. Unlike Nell, please don’t try to sell oranges to my father.”

“Doesn’t like them, does he?”

Lord Hart groaned. “My father hates everything.”

“Except for bossing people about.”

“Yes. Except for that.”

Head high, her hand in Lord Garret’s, Harriet marched into the grand house. Ready, if necessary, to take it by storm. It’s what Nell would have done.

The Present

The Trent Estate

Chapter 11

James eyed Garret’s pacing figure down in the sprawling garden. The glass pane slightly distorted the clearly irritated form marching back and forth, back and forth over the freshly cut lawn. The man looked like a one man parade drill sans shining sword and feathery hat. “You know, Edward, I think he loves her still.”

Edward snapped his paper open, burying himself down in the chair and the anonymity of the sheets. “Have you been drinking?” he piped over the paper.

James eyed the cognac in his hand and arched an annoyed brow at his youngest brother. “That is hardly the point. Look at how the two behave.”

“Yes. Exactly.” Edward didn’t look up from the protection of his reading, but his boot tapped impatiently against the polished wood floor. “Like they are going to skewer each other like wild boars.”

James took a sip of the very fine cognac, contemplating the way the two of them did, indeed, provoke each other with the passion of opposing politicians. “An interesting mating dance.”

“Mating dance? Mating dance?” At last the paper crumpled in Edward’s hands, his face a picture of exasperation. “Only the kind that ends with the female eating the head of the male.”

“That double first at Cambridge is paying off I see.”

Being quite sensitive about his preferred field of study, Edward scowled up at him. “Insects are really most interesting. Despite what everyone seems to think. Did you know that larva is an admirable source of. . .”

James nearly spewed a mouthful of his cognac and lifted his hand. He forced himself to swallow, while simultaneously evicting any possible association larva could have with anything admirable. “Stop. Stop right there. That is an appalling and incomprehensible thought.”

“Yes,” Edward drawled, snapping his paper to full sail defense again. “Like the idea of Miss Harriet and Garret in matrimonial bliss.”

James swirled the cognac around in his snifter, an idea slowly formulating in his brain. He braced himself against the edge of the window. “You can’t tell me that you’re not a trifle bored?”

Boredom really had nothing to do with his desire to see Miss Harriet happy. He wasn’t in love with her. He admired her very much. Asking her to marry him had been a chance. He’d known that. There was no passion between them. Not a jot. But she was so intelligent and merry! He’d tried to ignore the spark he saw in her eyes whenever Garret entered a room. And it wasn’t a spark of hate.

And from Garret’s current behavior, James had a strong feeling that the love he’d felt as a boy had never died.

“James?”

He blinked. “Hmmm?”

Edward blew out a long suffering sigh with hints of a groan about it. “Emmaline is taken up with wedding details, so, to answer your question, I am a bit at ends. I’m finding it damned hard not to let my brain wander off onto. . .” He lowered the paper. “Oh. I don’t know the hideous state of the world I suppose.”

Ignoring Edward’s sense of drama, James shoved away from the window. “Then let’s amuse ourselves,” he said, a smile slowly curling his lips. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Really, the two just needed a helping hand. Then Miss Harriet would be well and truly settled as all women aught and with the man she’d, no doubt, loved all her life.

“I’ll bite.” Edward folded his paper and placed it on his lap. “How?”

Edward narrowed his eyes. “Not cards. I’ve played enough cards to have the damned things growing from my fingertips.”

“No. Not cards.” James straightened his already straight shoulders, unable to fight the pleasure at his sudden sense of purpose. “Cupid.”

“What? That poncing little bastard? I am not going about rosy cheeked, arse half on display, thank you very much.”

James shook his head. For such an intelligent young man, Edward could be exceedingly dim in worldly matters. “Adorable as I’m sure you would be in a nappy, bow and arrow in hand, that is not exactly what I had in mind.”

“What then,” Edward asked carelessly as he reached for a cake from the plate that had been supplied by a thoughtful parlor maid.

James lifted his brows as if about to convey a great state secret. “Let’s trick Garret and Harriet into falling in love again.”

“What?!” Edward yelped, dropping the cake. Crumbs flew into the air, dusting Edward’s breeches.

“Lost your lower register, did you?”

“But. But.” Edward scrambled to flick the icing off his pants. “Drat. I’m going to have to change.” He lifted his eyes from the sticky icing splattered on his cream colored breeches. “You do realize, as everyone else understands quite well,
they loathe each other
.”

That was the point. They didn’t. He was convinced of it. And besides, what a challenge this would be! He loved a challenge and it had been some time since he’d faced an adequate one. Especially since the two had fooled everyone within a hundred miles of them with more skill than all of Horse Guard’s spies put together.

“So,” James said brightly, “wouldn’t it be fun?”

“Yes. I suppose. It hardly seems likely.” Edward stared up at the ceiling, his face creasing as he, no doubt, considered the mean and median of the probability of their success.

“Oh, I disagree. I think if we can convince Emmaline and Meredith to help us, we’ll have the two swooning over each other in no time.”

“Do you truly think people are so easy to manipulate?”

“Yes.”

“What if it all goes horribly wrong?”

“Edward, are you an old woman?”

“No,” Edward sniffed.

“Then send for Emmaline. I think it’s time we took the wind out of Garret and Harriet’s warlike sails and make them dance to a happier tune.”

His tune.

It’s what dukes were for after all, to make everyone dance to their chosen tune.

“Whatever you say, brother. You are the duke after all.”

“So I am.” James smiled to himself. There was no doubt in his mind. He’d maneuvered men across battlefields and continents to victory. Pushing two people into a mountain of loving bliss really didn’t seem to be nearly as difficult. But it would be infinitely more rewarding.

*      *     *

G
arret marched towards the courtyard, a sense of aggravation beating through him. It was his second long walk of the day. He was becoming intimate with Trent’s topiary.

How in the hell had he ended up in this predicament? Five years ago, when he’d hied himself off to the continent, he was certain he would never have to tangle with the she-cat again. But here he was.

He raked his hand along the wide hedgerows that led into the intricately laid garden before the house, savoring the scratchiness of it. Full of fountains and winding topiary, he had every intention of walking each inch of the damned garden until he’d worked out his tenuous position.

“Harriet! In love with Garret!” a voice boomed with shock from behind the hedge to Garret’s right.

The words ricocheted through his ears, around his brain and then seemed to suck his ability to walk properly from his limbs. His toe caught on a pavement stone. He staggered forward and face planted into the hedge.

“No!” James said, his voice laced with horror. “You must jest. We all know how she hates him.”

Garret spat the little, waxy leaves from his mouth, shoving at the hedge, yet unable to extricate himself from the damned bush. Yes. That was more like it. Harriet hated him. . . Just like he hated her.

“No,” Edward exclaimed, his voice full of gossipy woe.

Garret hung in the hedge, his legs as unresponsive as two bludgeoned fish. Hell, his entire body, including his eyelids, seemed paralyzed.

“She loves him desperately. Piteously,” Edward sighed, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone.

Garret’s mouth opened, jabbing his chin into a pokey branch. He snapped his lips shut, lest he curse the offending bit of greenery and strained to hear more.

“It is true,” Edward said emphatically.

It— It— It was complete tosh. It had to be. Still, Garret wormed his way further into the hedge, pushing his hands into the tangle of branches. He worked an opening and spotted Edward’s back. Damn. Damn. Why couldn’t he see the blighter’s face?

“How can you possibly know this?” James demanded, his voice as serious as when he had to consider the eviction of a tenant.

Edward shrugged. “Emmaline of course.”

Emmaline?
Emmaline had told Edward this? Garret’s heart slammed in his ribs as disbelief rang raucously in his head. And did something quite bizarre to his heart. He could have sworn the organ did a little frolic. Something his heart was not supposed to be capable of doing.

“Whatever could she have told you?” James asked, his voice softer now.

Edward shook his russet head sadly. “That she cries herself to sleep at night. That she often calls his name in her sleep. Emmaline often worries for her.”

Garret released his hold on the branches. Instantly, they thwacked him in the face. He pulled back, a mixture of shock and indignation pulsing through him. This had to be a joke of some kind. His brothers knew he was here. Yes. That was it. They were setting a trap for him. . . But why would they drag Harry’s name into it? Emmaline too. It seemed unusually cruel for James to play such a ruse.

Perhaps. . . Perhaps. . . No. No. Garret shook his head wildly. He wouldn’t give credence to this. He couldn’t. It shook the very foundation of everything he had believed these last five years.

His brothers’ voices murmured on the other side of hedge. Unable to help himself, Garret leaned back in towards the nefarious hedge.

The voices were drifting off, down one of the constructed alleys in the garden. Scowling, Garret headed after them, doing his best to tiptoe along the gravel. Good God, if anyone saw him now, prancing about the garden like some silly stage character, he’d never hear the end of it.

“I swear, James, I do not jest,” came Edward’s frustrated voice. “Harriet Manning loves our brother still, and has loved him, and will go on loving him, poor miserable creature that she is without the return of his affection.”

“Will she not tell him of her love?” James voice echoed round the curved hedge.

Garret weighed his options. He could do the honorable thing and head back up to the house. Or he could follow the conversation. His brothers’ footsteps were crunching along a path directly on the other side of a rather large pool complete with a tinkling fountain framed with towering, green hedges.

Garret glanced at the fountain. He’d have to walk along the stone edge to get to where the voices were now drifting.

Or he could behave with dignity.

He eyed the path back to the house, then turned back to the fountain.

No. No. There was no way in hell he was missing this. Besides, it was for Harriet’s good that he knew her true feelings. He could reframe his entire way of addressing the poor dear now that he knew she so tragically loved him.

Carefully, he trotted towards the fountain then stepped up onto the stones framing the pool. His arms out for balance, he quickly rushed round to the back of the tinkling fountain and the sound of James and Edward pontificating about him and Harry.