“May I call you Harriet?” he asked.
“You may,” Harriet wished she didn't sound so breathless.
“Harriet, I would be eternally grateful to you if you were to grant me this boon. It is a small thing, after all. Very small. A subterfuge that will last a matter of weeks.”
“Why?” she challenged.
The smile faltered, and she wondered how often it failed him.
“I have told you that,” he tried for the grin again.
“But not why it is so important to you,” she replied.
Jeremy sighed, turning away.
“I barely know you. Sister to my friend you may be, but as a person, you are a stranger to me. Should I disclose my plans to a stranger?”
Harriet began picking up the books that had been discarded during their search for the right one to extricate the key.
“Then I am too much a stranger to pretend to be your betrothed, Your Grace.”
She put the books back as neatly as she could and walked away.
CHAPTER SIX
“What in heavens became of you the other night, Harriet? I looked for you but could not find you anywhere,” Jane Sullivan whispered.
They walked on Danbury Common, preceded by Jane's mother, Lady Elizabeth Sullivan, and by Harriet's grandmother. Three days had passed since the ball. A train of servants followed with wicker hampers carrying the picnic that the Sullivans and Tisdales would enjoy at the Sandon Brook. This was the limit of Harriet’s world and permitted by Ralph only if she were accompanied by her grandmother.
“I retired early,” Harriet lied.
“How? Our carriage had not moved an inch when I eventually left.”
“I walked home, though none but you know it,” she quickly said.
Jane gaped. “Harriet, I do declare that you have gone from sheltered and innocent to daring beyond belief. It is five miles from Oaksgrove to Chelmsford, and at night too!”
Harriet's grandmother glanced back over her shoulder, smiling benevolently at her granddaughter. Harriet smiled back.
“Please keep your voice down, Jane,” she bit through her smile, “Grandmama does not know, obviously.”
“Your brother would have a fit if he knew. Very well, I will not be critical of you for doing what I have been urging you to do,” Jane giggled.
“Ralph will never know. He is away for the best part of a month and will not hear of anything that goes on in Essex,” Harriet said firmly.
They followed a path beaten by many feet out of the long grass of the common. To one side, sheep calmly grazed, used to sharing the site of their meals with humans and barely twitching an ear as they passed.
“Lady Sullivan tells me that the Duke of Chelmsford's ball was a very enjoyable occasion,” Agnes said, turning to address Jane.
“Indeed, it was. And there is already talk of it becoming annual. A fixture in the Essex social calendar,” Jane replied.
“Such a shame that you were not able to attend, Harriet. But good that you will surely have another chance next year,” Lady Sullivan, Jane’s mother, said. “Oh! And did I tell you, Agnes, that someone broke a priceless vase in His Grace's library? Over a thousand years old and shattered into as many pieces.”
Harriet felt her blood run cold. Jane looked at her curiously as Agnes turned to Lady Sullivan with a scandalized expression.
“Does he have any idea who did it?” she asked.
“The Duke of Penhaligon...” Lady Sullivan began, “and his betrothed...”
