He turned, gazed down into her frighteningly vivid green eyes, and wondered. Who did she think he was now? His grandfather who never cared a whit about polite society, or his father who was a paragon of just about everything? He wished his strait-laced prat of a father had survived long enough to be brought low by the antics of his daft mother.
And then, Sidmouth calmed. He could hear his father’s measured tones when explaining how much he admired his mother in spite of her eccentricities. Few in thetonrealized she’d saved his grandfather’s life and turned him into a force for reform in the 1700s at Westminster. His grandfather had been the heir to a vast fortune and lands in Cornwall, but had spent most of his youth trying to waste it all in London and drink himself into oblivion.
Somewhere in his middle thirties, he’d become fascinated with the theatre, more specifically Dora Phillips, the mesmerizing red-haired actress who’d triumphed in parts such as Desdemona, Tatiana, and Rosalind in “As You Like It.” She’d been even better in male roles such as Puck in a “Midsummer’s Night’s Dream,” clad in tights, and in trousers as William in “Rosina.” After months of watching the green-eyed siren in multiple roles, he had to have her. And then once he’d had her, he couldn’t give her up. The solution, in his entitled mind, had been simple.
She belonged to him. He could no longer bear to think of other men watching her perform night after night. And so, without any thought to societal repercussions, he procured a special license and bundled her off in his carriage back to Bocollyn in Cornwall.
After a prolonged rustication and two children in the nursery, including the heir, they received a visit from two elderly, ruling gorgons of the ton. They appealed, not to him, but to his beautiful wife. For some reason, they were convinced that with him in Parliament, and her as his hostess, they could be a driving force in London. For their part, the two grande dames would ensure the couple’s status in theton. No one would question their judgment. But, of course, they had their own agenda which they expected to be brought forward. His Nana had agreed and sealed the pact with the two women.
His grandfather must have realized his wife was a force to be reckoned with and so gave up the comfort of overseeing farmlands, visiting tenants, playing with the children, and warm nights by the fire for the frenzied life of the London circuit.
At that, Sidmouth lowered his tone and used a trick with Nana he’d not even shared with Harriet. “Miss Dora, you wouldn’t want your admirers to be disappointed, would you? What would they think of you arguing in public with the duke?”
She turned her green gaze back on him without her usual screeching and placed her fragile hand in his big, rough paw. Delicate blue veins showed through parchment-thin skin.
He saw her safely into the ducal carriage and then knocked on the roof for the driver to head back to Bocollyn. Shades of St. George, but he needed a drink.
Captain Thorne sat quietlyin his rocker, tamping tobacco into his pipe with his hands covered in heavy knit woolen coverings. Lady Blandford had made him special gloves with his fingertips free so that he could do chores around the cottage without his joints suffering from the cold. Richard threw another log or two onto the fire and blew on the flame to keep the blaze going.
They stared at each other for a second or two when a sharp rapping at the newly repaired door interrupted. Richard grabbed the chopping axe from the corner and went to see who in blazes would be out on such a cold, windy night.
He no more than opened the door than the duke pushed his way into the cozy cabin parlor. His cheeks were bright red from the cold, windy, mile-long walk up the hill to Rose Cottage. Richard wondered why in the hell he wasn’t snug at Bocollyn House with his new duchess on night like this. If circumstances were different and Lady Blandford were his wife, he knew exactly where he’d be.
Sidmouth handed him a bottle of fine brandy while he divested himself of his heavy overcoat and hung it on one of the newly fashioned wooden hooks Richard had recently attached to the wall by the cottage door.
“I say, are you sure you want to continue with the King’s Navy? I could use a man like you around the estate.” The duke’s eyes danced with humor, but Richard refused to take the bait.
“Why would I give up the joys of life aboard a ship for months at a time? Or the excitement of weeks at a time becalmed off Africa in heat like one of the levels of hell, whilst chasing slavers that we may or may not prevail against in the prize court in Freetown?”
The beginnings of a wry smile quirked at the edge of Sidmouth’s mouth. “Not many fiery-haired hell cats out there, though, are there?”
Richard clenched his fists and swallowed a retort at a sharp look from Captain Thorne.
At that, the duke bellowed out a laugh and clapped Richard hard on the back. “Enough baiting the bull for the night. Let’s crack open the brandy while there’s still no embargo on this fine French temptation.”
11
Harriet piled an extra warm blanket onto Nana’s bed and tucked the bottom edges in around her fragile feet. A fire had been set in the hearth in her chamber, and a warming bottle of hot water had also been inserted between the blankets. She had no idea if her grandmother’s unwise haring about the countryside had endangered her health, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
“How is your Marine doing at Rose Cottage?”
“Nana, he is notmyMarine, and I suspect he’s doing quite well, considering he and Captain Thorne were shipmates at the Battle of Algiers. You know how men are—swapping stories, making up stories…”
“Yes. My Sidmouth was like that. Never a military man, but quite enjoyed hunting with his friends here at the lodge.”
Nana suddenly withdrew one of her shaking hands from beneath the blanket and placed it over Harriet’s warm one. “Heisyour Marine, and you know it. The question is, what are you going to do about all that love and affection he so clearly has to give you and Nicholas?”
Harriet firmly placed her grandmother’s cold hand back under the blanket. “You, of all people, know how much responsibility I have to my son, to you, and to all the rest of our family. I can’t afford an entanglement with a Marine lieutenant who will be leaving us before long. He has a duty to his ship and his men. He certainly doesn’t want a wife to complicate his life of adventure and freedom.”
“I once had a Royal Navy man…an admiral I think he was. He put me up in a little flat on, let me see where was that? Oh, it was Bedford Street.”
Harriet placed a gentle finger over her grandmother’s mouth. “Nana, that was a long time ago, before you met Grandfather. Probably not good form to remember old lovers from another life.”
“Oh, but he called on me just the other day.” This time, the old woman placed her own finger to her lips. “Shhhh. Don’t let Sidmouth know. He gets deadly jealous. Great bother, duels at dawn and such.”
Harriet rose to ring a bell for tea from the kitchen, but by the time she’d returned to her grandmother’s bedside, the elderly woman was fast asleep, making little puffing snores. She fetched an extra pillow and carefully placed it under Nana’s head.
After snicking the door shut, she motioned to a footman Sidmouth had insisted be kept in the passageway outside their grandmother’s door from now on. As he bent his head low toward hers, she explained in a hushed tone, “She’s asleep now, but if you hear her moving around inside, please let me know immediately. I’ll have a maid sent down to sit with her as soon as someone can be freed from the kitchen.”
