“Come, the water gardens are out of sight of the house,” Harriet whispered.
“Your grandmother should be on the stage,” Jeremy chuckled.
“She sees a chance for me to resolve this ridiculous situation.”
They descended stone steps to a gravel path. A stream wound alongside the path, which crossed it via a stone bridge further along. Trees cast deep shade and gave the air a verdant, moist taste.
“You need my help?” she asked, walking ahead of him.
Jeremy could not help but watch her as she walked. Her bottom swayed with the movement of her hips. It was wonderfully feminine and seductive, made more so by the fact that he knew she did not intend it so. She glanced back at him over her shoulder. He realized that he was standing stock still as he watched her. Now, his eyes locked with hers. Her lips parted, and he thought he saw her breath quicken, the briefest lifting of her bosom.
“You need my help?” she repeated in a quieter voice.
He nodded, then let out a breath. “The reason I did not come clean about the lie I told was that it produced the results I wanted. Within days, I was invited to dinner by the Earl and Countess of Sutton, after months of waiting for such an invite. They must have issued the invitation as soon as they returnedhome from the ball. And it was the knowledge that I was betrothed to you that persuaded them.”
Her chin tipped sharply. “So? What does that matter to me? Why should I help you? If Ralph hears even a whisper of our so-called betrothal, then I will not be allowed to set foot outside of my chambers, let alone Oaksgrove!”
Jeremy went to her, wanting to take her hands, but she folded them firmly under her breasts, a soft barrier between them.
I must take care here. Seduction will not work. She must believe my motives are utterly heartfelt and not simply trying to bed her.
“Harriet. I appreciate the risk you run, but the lie only needs to be maintained for a month. Perhaps less. As occupied as Ralph is with his affairs, he will scarcely heed any gossip. He will never know.”
She lifted her gaze to his silently, her arms slowly unfurling, though she did not seem to be aware of it. There were spots of color in her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted. She bit her lower lip, an expression that he found extremely erotic, though he doubted she intended it that way.
“You seem reluctant. May I ask what has changed your mind?” he asked.
Confusion flickered across her face. She frowned—and managed to look just as fetching with a furrowed brow as without.
“I have not changed my mind at all,” she said crisply.
“Your letter suggested you were open to the idea, provided we spoke first. I am here to speak. To plan a way for you to have your freedom without your brother learning what you’re about.”
She stepped back. Jeremy caught her wrist before she could retreat farther.
“My letter ordered you to stop telling people we’re betrothed,” she retorted, shoving against his chest. “It was most firmly worded.”
“It was indeed. You wrote about being a prisoner in your own home, desperate for freedom,” he reiterated from the letter. “I can give you that—and keep your secret. Your secret for mine.”
“I sent no such letter,” she insisted, pushing harder.
When he still didn’t let go, she kicked him square in the shin. Pain lanced through his leg and he let her go, grabbing for the injury—just as something caught his ankle. The next instant, he was falling headfirst into the stream.
CHAPTER NINE
Harriet hurried across the lawn, angling her body to hide the bundle of clothes and linen from the house. Before leaving Oaksgrove, she had made certain Ralph was in his study—windows opening to the north, well away from the gardens. And that Beecham, too, was nowhere in sight. Then, seizing the chance, she had slipped into her brother’s rooms and gathered breeches, a shirt, and socks from his wardrobe.
Please God, do not let Beecham be watching from a window at this moment. And if he is, let him be unaware of what I am carrying. I could not explain it to Ralph in any way that would not leave me a prisoner for months to come.
She breathed slightly easier when the steps down to the water garden hid her from sight. It took a few minutes more to reach the summer house that had been erected before a waterfall, where the stream tumbled over a series of terraces to a pool below.
Men labored away at the paths that ran around that pool, which itself had only been dug out a matter of weeks ago. But those workers were a dozen feet below the summer house and would be unaware of its only resident.
A rather sodden Duke.
She climbed the steps to the rocky promontory on which the wooden house was situated. Slipping in, she entered a room that occupied the entire ground floor of the house and looked out over the pool. A selection of furniture not required in the main house was being stored here. Jeremy was tending a fire in a stone fireplace at one end of the room. He stood in his small clothes, which were wet enough to adhere to his shapely buttocks.
Harriet froze where she stood, gazing at the sculpted body before her. His hair hung down to his shoulders, darkened by water. He had not heard her enter, and continued to stand warming his hands before the fire. What would it feel like to be held by that naked body? He had already held her while they were both fully clothed. This… would be an entirely different experience.
