“You are the granddaughter of a duke, but your grandmother was an actress and a whore. You’re a very interesting combination of the high and low of society. Most of London had your mother during her laughable attempt at acting. And, of course, blood will always tell.”
Harriet feared her mouth was agape. “Why are you saying these horrible things? Do you want me to cry off, because I certainly would be happy to comply, since, according to you, all of Falmouth thinks I’m a fallen woman.”
“I don’t particularly care. All I want is a cub from you like that one out there.” He pointed to her tall, sturdy son racing through the park chasing Max and Fleur. “I can’t tolerate the thought of all this…” He swept his hands around the room and included the view out the windows. “…going to my craven nephew.”
“Nicholas would be living with us, and he requires the dogs for his protection, since several attempts have been made on his life…”
He cut her explanation short. “As soon as we’re married, that…child and his slobbering monsters will be sent away to an appropriate boarding school. Who would expect a sick old man like me to tolerate all that filth and noise?”
He hobbled to a chaise longue in the corner and rang a bell for a servant. “Here, girl. You can help me. Bring those pillows from over there to prop up my leg. The gout seizes me at inopportune times, unfortunately. Quit gawping like a fish, and come over here to give me my tonics.”
Harriet closed her mouth firmly and opened the French doors facing the park. She did not bother to close them behind her, but walked straight out toward Nicholas, the inconvenient dogs, the footman…in short, everything that was dear to her. They walked back toward the front of the house while Thomas ran to call for her carriage.
Harriet was so furious,she couldn’t decide whom to blame first - herself, Sidmouth, or the old bastard Grantham. She’d loaded her carriage with Nicholas, the dogs, and Thomas and then realized she had no idea what she’d do next.
“Um, what should I tell the driver?” Thomas leaned forward toward Harriet until he got her attention.
“Oh. Anywhere but here. Sidmouth. We’re as close to Bocollyn as we are to the lodge. I have to speak to Sidmouth.”
Thomas stepped outside to talk to her driver.
Nicholas was being unusually boisterous with the dogs so that she had to give him a sharp reprimand. “You can stop trying to show me how displeased you are. Viscount Grantham isnotgoing to be your father.”
He had the good grace not to celebrate loudly then and there. But he did rush into his next question. “When are you going to t-tell Richard…?”
“Tell Richard what? You are being very impertinent, Lord Blandford. Just because Lord Grantham is not going to be your father doesn’t mean you get to go out and choose your own father. That is not how it’s done. How have I failed so miserably in your upbringing?” Harriet knew she was close to tears but did not want to scare her son.
He stopped his chatter and climbed up on the seat next to her and put his arm around her. “I’ll protect you, mother. You don’t need a husband, and I don’t need a father.”
And that, finally, broke her heart.
19
Richard hired a hack carriage to deliver him to Bocollyn Lodge, but instead of calling there, he climbed the now-familiar steep pathway up to Rose Cottage. When he arrived, Captain Thorne was bundled in sweaters and making slow work of chopping dead trees into firewood.
When Thorne looked up and saw him, a knowing smile spread across his face. “I knew you’d be back. A man can’t sail away from a woman like Lady Harriet without fighting like hell first for her love.”
Richard lowered his head and then nodded once. “All it took was one night with my fellow officers getting me drunk and bashing me for giving up.”
“What did she say when you asked her?”
“I haven’t seen her yet. I thought it would be prudent to stop here first and talk to you. You seem to know her better than most.”
“I wouldn’t say that, but I’m not so old and decrepit that I can’t tell when a woman’s in love.” He leaned on the handle of his boarding axe. “She’s a proud lady, the granddaughter of a duke. She’s been raised to think it’s her duty to live her life a certain way.
“She was always a lonely little girl growing up at Bocollyn, but when she met Lord Blandford, everything changed. He’d visit Sidmouth while they were growing up, and their last year at Eton, he stayed at Bocollyn for the holidays while his parents remained in town. Harriet and young Blandford were close from the beginning. His family’s estate borders Bocollyn, and they were married the following year. Young Nicholas arrived soon after.” He motioned to Richard to follow him inside the cottage where he put a kettle of water on the hob over the fire to boil.
“His brother, Julian, has always been a rotten apple. The way he looked at Harriet when he thought no one was looking always put my hackles up. But he was never censured, because he was his mother’s favorite.”
Richard’s hands clenched into fists of their own accord. “No matter what happens between Lady Harriet and myself, he’d better never come near her while I’m around.”
Thorne gave him a wry look. “You’re a sailor, man. You’re not going to be around.”
“What else can I do?”
“Give her the protection of your name.”
Richard hung his head. “But she’s making arrangements to marry that old viscount.”
