“I’m sorry. But there was no other way to protect you.” He looked as concerned as she felt, addressing the issue immediately. “Ambrose Hacklebury-Smythe has a terrible reputation, and bringing not one, buttwomistresses with him to a hunting party shows you exactly why.”
She blinked. “Have you met him?”
“No, but I’ve heard things.” He paused. “Haveyoumet him? Or any of these people? It never occurred to me that we might run that risk…”
“My exposure to theTonwas limited, as you know. If an eligible bachelor of considerable worth wasn’t present at an event, I didn’t attend.” Her tone was dry.
He sighed. “And I certainly wasn’t comfortable making a splash in town. Not while all the DeVoreaux business was ongoing. I’ve heard of Ambrose, but not Pennister himself. Or Sweetings, for that matter.”
“So it seems that our real identities are safe, at least,” she said, sinking down onto a chair. “Of course, the fact remains that I have now actually acquired a husband.”
“I apologise again. But I’ll be damned if I let that lecher within ten feet of you.” Paul’s tone left no room for argument.
She nodded. “Thank you. I do appreciate your concern, and I fully support the thought behind it. However, it’s made a few things rather complicated.” She drew a breath. “To that end, I’ve had to move my things into your room.” She looked up as he made no response. “There was no alternative if your fiction of us as a married couple is to be believed…”
He shrugged. “We’ll face that when we come to it. For the moment, it seems we’ll be whipping in a small pack of unpleasant hounds.”
“And the Earl. I guessed he was an Earl from your manner of address. There aren’t too many dukes and I doubt one would be caught dead with Ambrose Hacklebury-Smythe and his barques of frailty.” She looked worried. “Paul, do you knowhim? Or of him?”
“He’s the Earl of Vernwood. Long career in government and politics, but although he wielded much power, he always did so quietly, I understand. There were a lot of whispers about what he did and didn’t do, what he had and hadn’t ordered, and how much he was involved in a variety of vital decisions made by the War Office among others.”
Harriet pursed her lips. “A man of power indeed.” She shivered. “You can sense it, can’t you?”
Paul smiled. “Yes, to anyone of intelligence, he’s a force of nature. But I doubt the Hacklebury-Smythes of this world would notice it.”
She couldn’t help the giggle at Paul’s acerbic but accurate insult. “Agreed.”
*~~*~~*
The rest of that first day passed as smoothly as could be expected, for which Paul offered silent prayers of thanks to whoever might be listening.
A welcome spell of sunshine encouraged the guests to venture outdoors, wrapped in enough wool and furs to shield a village from a blizzard. But once theywereoutdoors, peace descended on the house, and the servants could take care of their routine chores.
For the butler and the housekeeper, that meant catching their breath and planning the evening meal.
Neither were terribly familiar with this side of country life, but Paul had enough experience as a guest of such things to know there would be sherry in the large salon before dinner, and tea there afterward for the ladies, while the gentlemen enjoyed their port and cigars.
Harriet made copious notes of things she’d noticed during the day, which she announced would help her as they went forward. She would make sure that fires were lit early, and kept alight if possible, so that no guests walked into ice cold suites on their return.
“If the weather holds and they decide to go shooting, we may scrape through all this unscathed,” observed Paul.
“One can only hope,” muttered Harriet, bent over her lists.
He watched her for a few moments, noting the wisps of hair that had escaped the confines of her cap, and the smooth curve of her cheek as she focused on her writings. In an instant he re-lived that bolt of possessiveness that had spurred him into his dramatic—and rather unwise—declaration in the entrance hall.
He’d claimed her as his wife when he had no right to make such an outrageous statement. And yet everything within him told him that hedidhave the right. She washis, and woe betide any man who dared touch her.
Especially that lecherous idiot Ambrose Hacklebury-Smythe.
He should, by rights, have his sexual requirements more than adequately met by the licentious twins. He must be paying them enough, after all. But what must he do? Cast his roving eye on a housekeeper. It was appallingly bad class, and the man had to know it. But then again, this was the country. And for some of theTon, being out of London meant being away from the gossips. A license, as it were, to behave as one wished, without regard to manners or courtesy.
“Do you know where we could find a sleigh?”
Harriet’s question smacked Paul upside the head and he looked at her, a frown on his face, wondering if he’d heard her aright. “What?”
“A sleigh. You must be familiar with them,” she smiled a teasing smile. “You know. A carriage that goes over snow.” She made a whooshing sound as her hand lifted into the air. “It has runners instead of wheels,” she added helpfully.
He rolled his eyes. “OfcourseI know what a sleigh is. It’s the only way to travel in Russia when the winter sets in. Bloody cold there, I can tell you, and if you don’t have a sleigh, and a couple of sturdy horses to pull it, you’d be snowed in for six months.”
