His eyes met hers. He reached up to tuck a lock of hair away from her face behind her ear. His thumb traced the lines of her lips.
“Nothing. Whether I am mistaken about you or not, I do not know how to repair the damage. How to prove myself worthy.”
She took his hand, pressing it to her cheek.
“Perhaps it is for the best,” he sighed. “It was another foolish attempt to match my ancestors. Doomed to fail. Thereissomething at which I excel. Gambling, drinking, and seduction.”
Then Harriet thought of Jane. Thought of her gentleman friend. A devout man who had intended to dedicate himself to God before he inherited his title.
“I… I think I have an idea,” she murmured with a slowly dawning smile. “Do you think the Winchesters would be won over if they saw you in company with a man so devoted to God that he was prepared to take holy orders. A man whose brotherdidtake the cloth?”
Jeremy frowned at her. “I know no such people.”
“I do,” Harriet grinned.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The church of Woodham Walter was a mile or two from Danbury, where the Tisdales usually worshiped. That was where Agnes was, escorted by Beecham. Harriet rode in Jeremy's carriage, which had waited in a secluded byway for the Tisdale carriage to leave before driving up to Oaksgrove to collect Harriet.
“What subterfuge did we deploy for this occasion?” Jeremy asked as Harriet embarked.
“I am attending the church at Woodham Walter with Jane and her mother and father. It is their parish church, but as it is still Anglican, Beecham has no reason to report to Ralph. Attending church with a respectable family is hardly grounds for reporting concerns.”
Jeremy nodded curtly, gazing out of the window at the passing countryside. “I find this duplicity extremely taxing. It is far from honorable behavior.”
Harriet could not help but laugh, which earned her a stern look from Jeremy. She returned the look levelly.
My, but he is in a taking this morning. I wonder what has put him in such a dark mood.
“It is only necessary because of a subterfuge which you began,” she said brightly.
He shot her a dark look this time.
“I do not enjoy pulling the wool over the eyes of my oldest friend.”
Harriet swallowed her exasperation, refusing to allow the Duke to sour her mood. The day was glorious, and she was out of Oaksgrove once again. Only as far as the next village over from Danbury, but beggars could not be choosers. Ralph was in Carlisle, or Paris, or Bristol. Somewhere that was not Oaksgrove, and Harriet intended to make good use of her newfound freedom.
“Again, a situation that would not be necessary were it not for your... games.”
“I do not need to be reminded,” Jeremy groused.
“I think that perhaps you do. Neither of us chose to be in the situation in which we find ourselves, but we must make the best of it.”
He eyed her sideways. “I think you would choose to be in this situation, to be free of your brother.”
“Then you have severely misjudged my character,” she replied.
“Do you think so? You are not desperate to experience the sensations and sensuality the world can offer? The woman who dove into a dressmaker's on Oxford Street seems to be just such a person.”
Harriet felt like she had been slapped. There was an austere cruelty on Jeremy's face. It was taut and cold, eyes hard as steel.
What has gotten into him? He was doubting me, foolishly believing me to be in conspiracy against him, but this hostility is beyond everything. I will not put up with it.
She felt tears prick at her eyes, but refused to look away from him to hide them. They were born from the fire of anger more than hurt.
“Your Grace, I was pulled into your life through your mistaking me for another. I was innocent and remain innocent, at least when it comes to any notion of plotting against you. I will not deny that I have enjoyed the freedom which our arrangement has afforded. And...”
She blushed, unable to control the reaction, “...and yes, I will admit I have given myself to you, and... thoroughly enjoyed it!”
