Harriett pinched her lips together. She searched her sister’s face. “You sound like mistress of the house already.”
Leonora gazed unseeingly at a tapestry on the wall. “Surely the Earl of Foxworth has a London house?”
“In Portman Square. We went there once when his father was alive, you were too small to remember. Gerard may have sold it.”
“I prefer to live in Mayfair.” Leonora frowned. “I shall have to find out.” Sally opened the door of her allocated bedchamber. “I must bathe,ugh,I even have dust in my hair.” She turned to the maid. “Will you see to it? Have a fire lit. I can’t bathe without one, even on a warm night. Have the sheets been aired? A person can grow ill from damp sheets. What about my trunk? Has it been brought up?”
Sally bobbed. “Yes, milady, the master has requested fresh linen, and a fire lit. Joseph is bringing up your trunk.”
“I do hope so. When it arrives, please shake out my dinner gown. The lilac muslin. See you at dinner, Harriett.”
Harriett followed Sally along the passage. It would be nice to be Leonora and have the confidence to believe whatever you desired might be yours for the taking.
Dinner was served in a cozy dining room with a low beamed ceiling. Through the latticed windows, the branches of a leafy horse chestnut swayed in the breeze. Cauliflower soup and braised trout caught in the river that morning were followed by roasted goose served with a dish of vegetables. Dessert was a delicious pie of damsons and cream.
“I apologize for the simple fare,” Gerard said.
“Your cook is as capable as any in London,” Mama said with an approving smile. “The goose was superb.”
“Very tasty,” her father agreed, leaning back with a pat to his stomach.
Gerard had changed into a bottle-green coat, fawn waistcoat and buckskin breeches. He’d made a credible attempt at his cravat, although Harriet doubted he had a manservant to attend him. He didn’t need one, she decided, he was quite perfect the way he was. Why, the Bond Street Beaus would spend hours perfecting such casually disordered curls.
They settled in the parlor to drink coffee. “How about some music,” Father said, holding his snifter of brandy. “Harriett? Leonora?”
Leonora jumped up and went to the pianoforte. In her lilac spotted muslin, she looked extremely pretty, framed by the embroidered hangings drawn against the cool evening. She began to play and singThe Meeting of the Waters, while Gerard stood at her side, turning the pages. Harriett had to admit that her sister did sing sweetly.
When it came to Harriett’s turn, she arranged her Devonshire brown muslin skirts around her. She found a piece of music which was a favorite of hers, the first movement of Bach’s cantata,Sheep May Safely Graze,and did her best, aware that although her voice was passable the pianoforte was not one of her talents. She’d never had the patience to perfect it. Gerard obliged again turning the pages. Her gaze drifted up to him. Was his dark hair soft, or springy like her fathers? She struck a wrong key.
Her father coughed.
“Sorry.” She rose from the piano seat. “I fare better at chess.”
“Chess it is then.” Gerard moved over to the chess table and set up a game. Perhaps he was relieved that she’d stopped ruining a piece he obviously liked. Annoyed, she decided to beat him at something she did well.
She trounced him. Chess was a game she greatly enjoyed. She wasn’t entirely sure she beat him fairly, for Leonora perched at his side to watch, and played with the lilac ribbon entwined in her fair curls.
“You have improved since we last played,” he said.
Harried raised her eyebrows. “And so I should, seeing as I was only fifteen at the time.”
“And now you are grown,” Gerard said with a smile. He reset the board. “I demand a rematch.”
“Not this evening.” Mama rose. “Come, girls, we shall retire and leave the gentlemen to their brandy.”
Upstairs, after the maid undid her gown and stays, Harriett dismissed her. She felt sure she wouldn’t sleep tonight. Somehow, this trip had changed her life in some way, but the manner of which, she was yet to discover. Perhaps only to give her a glimpse of the sort of life she wished for herself.
Sometime around midnight, she gave up trying to sleep, slipped out of bed and lit the candle. Opening the curtains, she perched on the window seat. She blew out the candle and sat in the dark at the open casement window, resting her chin in her hand while breathing in the country odors, both sweet and earthy. Only the chirp of crickets and the rustle of some small animal in the shrubbery disturbed the still night air. She was about to return to bed, but paused at the sound of a horse’s hooves on the cobbles. A man led a horse from the stables. As they passed beneath her window, she saw it was Gerard. She thought to call to him, and then decided against it, realizing it would wake the household. From the obscurity of her darkened room, she watched him until he reached the trees, then he mounted and rode away into the shadows.
Did he have a mistress?
Unsettled, she returned shivering to her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.
♥♥♥
It was close to dawn when Gerard returned. He was too distressed to sleep, and headed straight to the kitchen. In the cold grey light, he packed his breakfast of bread and ham, as he did every morning, although this time, he would feed it to the birds. He crossed the fields to sit against a tree, and breathe deeply of the pungent dew-drenched earth, hoping it would calm him. It didn’t. He stared into the distance, as his tired mind wrestled with a truth he didn’t want to face. Urgent action was needed. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. The events of last night had rent his life apart.
He had to be clever, construct a plan to deal with this, and wished his heart wasn’t so heavy. He could hardly breath with the shock of it. Harrison had become more like a father to him than an uncle. He suddenly felt cut adrift.
At least the Edgerton’s would depart for London today, but taking with them any foolish dream he’d had to woo a lady.
