“It is, but I did not think you had an interest in art.”
Harriet shrugged. “I appreciate it, but Ralph certainly does not. He would never take me and would never allow me to visit London without him. It seems this is an opportunity to experience something I might never have the chance to again. So, I should like you to take me. As part of our agreement.”
Jeremy considered carefully, still massaging her feet and glimpsing the drooping eyelids and occasional bitten lip that gave a hint to her pleasure. Despite the illusion of it being therapeutic, touching her in this way held a delicious eroticism.
“…Very well. I will leave the subterfuge to you. Another illness for Lady Agnes?” he asked.
“Or me. Either will work to occupy Beecham.”
With a final sigh, she withdrew her foot from Jeremy's hands, and he immediately missed the contact. Hiding his disappointment, he stood.
“I thank you for your medicinal intervention. It was most soothing, Your Grace,” she declared.
Jeremy bowed formally, trying to ignore the sting that he felt at the icy formality of her words. He wondered if he could have done anything differently to hold onto her affections, but then dismissed the thought.
I do not need her affections.
Did not need them—but that was not the same as notwantingthem.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Harriet glimpsed Jeremy standing eagerly before the entrance to theNational Galleryon Pall Mall. It was a modest-seeming house with three stories and a black, wrought-iron fence separating it from the street.
As her carriage drew to a halt on its driveway, she poked her head back in. She could not help but feel a sense of trepidation. The sight of Jeremy did that, creating a tension within her, a longing and an apprehension that her yearning would never be satisfied. At the same time, she looked on his cold, haughty features and felt a maddening irritation.
He holds everyone outside, behind high walls. I should not care. I should not want to be within those walls, but I do, and he infuriates me every time he pushes me away!
Today, the apprehension was born of more than her frustrated attraction. It stemmed from the two other people who shared the carriage with her.
“It does not half present itself as a great, national institution, does it?” Agnes observed, inclining forward to peer through the window.
“I believe it is the house of one Mr. Angerstein whose collection this used to be,” Harriet murmured.
Beecham sat stoically next to Agnes, arms resolutely folded. He was not there to enjoy art but to monitor Harriet. A letter from Ralph to the butler had made it clear that she was not to be out of his sight, and all other responsibilities and duties were secondary.
Beecham was positively gleeful when he presented that letter to Grandmama and me. He must have been suspicious of the various ruses we have deployed. Well, now we're stuck with him.
Jeremy was crossing the pavement to the carriage when the footman opened the door, and Agnes descended.
“Lady Agnes—this is a surprise,” he began, his voice catching slightly.
“A pleasant one, I trust,” Agnes returned with a gracious smile.
“Of course.” His eyes swept to Harriet, who alighted next, then to Beecham. He raised an eyebrow.
“Is Ralph to appear next?” he quipped.
“Mr. Beecham has orders to attend to me wherever I go,” Harriet said with a touch of barely concealed irritation. “Which means Grandmama must come as well, else she would be left alone at Oaksgrove.”
“Hardly alone, my dear,” Agnes corrected gently. “We have a full household of staff. Still, I do prefer Mr. Beecham’s company. He has been with me longer than any other servant. Is that not so, Beecham?”
“Indeed, Your Ladyship,” Beecham intoned.
“I… see,” Jeremy said dryly.
“I did try toexplainto Beecham that you would be acting as my chaperon for this visit, Your Grace, and that you are completely trusted by my brother. Buthis orders are most specific,” Harriet parroted the butler’s own words with a wry smile.
And it also means that we cannot present ourselves as betrothed, because that would get back to Ralph as swift as shadow.
