Dark eyes fixed on Harriet. The woman had a lovely face, heart-shaped and pale with rosebud lips. Now, those lips pinched together tightly.
“You would be Lady Harriet Tisdale?” she asked softly.
“I am. And who might you be?” Harriet frowned.
“I am Eloise de Rouvroy,” the woman said, and waited.
When Harriet showed no recognition of the name, spots of color appeared in Eloise's cheeks.
“The name, it means nothing to you, eh? No matter. Is most… how you say…providentialthat I meet you here, without going all the way to your home. I think you should know, theDuke of Penhaligon—my dear Jeremy—he is forbidden, do you understand? He belongs to me, though clearly he does not yet fully… appreciate this. However, when you reject him, he will appreciate it. And youwillreject him.”
The lady spoke with conviction, as though the matter were already decided. Harriet almost agreed, ready to insist there wasnothingbetween her and Jeremy. But then, something gave her pause.
All her life, she’d had someone telling her what to do—her brother, her grandmama. Even Jane, for all her good intentions. And now this woman, sweeping in as if she had any right. Jealous, and certain she should decide her fate.
Anger flared in Harriet. It was a rare thing. She was accustomed to being deferential and submissive. But this was the last straw.
“I thank you for taking the time to come and find me. But I would not be so sure that Jeremy will be rejected. The fact that he wanted to chain me to himself tells me that he would not wish it,” Harriet said bluntly.
What am I saying! I should not be telling another soul what happened.
The anger fled from her in the blink of an eye, replaced by blind panic. She clamped her mouth shut lest she say more. Eloise's eyes widened a touch beyond grace.
“I am not accustomed to fighting over men. So there will be no fight. Merely… surrender. Yours,” she said, her voice like steel, “or I will be vindictive in my revenge, and I will destroy not only your réputation, but also the réputation of your frère.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jeremy sat ensconced in a secluded corner of White's, the London club to which he frequented. He stared at the letter he had received at his London residence just a few doors down along St James Street.
Eleven days since the Chelmsford ball and an invitation to dinner from the Winchesters. Following six months of gruelling effort in trying to obtain such an invitation prior... Everything has been fast-tracked! And Harriet Tisdale is the key. I am sure of it.
Three men entered the room, looked around, and then spotted him. They approached. Reuben, Nash, and the only member of the foursome missing from the Chelmsford ball… Ralph Tisdale.
Christ. My luck…
“The Four Musketeers together again!” crowed Reuben, looking as untidy as usual.
“And look who we dragged out of the Exchange,” Nash chuckled, slapping Ralph on the back.
“I agreed to put aside business for the evening,” Ralph grinned. “My ships in Bristol are ready to put to sea, but I had reason to come to London first to renegotiate cover with those highwaymen at Lloyd’s.”
Jeremy forced a smile, waving a hand over his head.
“Such things are beyond me, old friend, but it is good to see you return healthy. We expected you at Chelmsford's bash.”
“Alas, my business in Bristol was urgent.”
An idea occurred to Jeremy then, a way to persuade Harriet to help him.
But I must test the waters first. If Ralph has mellowed in his attitude towards his sister, then it will do no good at all. Nor will it help if rumors have preceded me from Essex. It would not do for Ralph to hear that his sister is my betrothed.
“Your sister represented the family then?” Jeremy probed as a steward brought a bottle of red wine and four glasses.
Ralph's eyes caught Jeremy's as the drinks were poured. They were suddenly sharp, his face still.
“My sister? Whatever do you mean?” he asked, quietly.
Reuben guffawed at a joke he had just told, but Nash looked from Jeremy to Ralph quickly, sensing the tension in Ralph's tone and knowing how mercurial the Earl of Oaksgrove could be.
