Chapter Ten
She found hermaid in the dressing room placing a freshly pressed gown aside from the other ones.
“I’m going to wear something different. My cousin has a guest and evidently, he has an eye for me. I’m simply going to make him wish he hadn’t.”
“Which one would you prefer, milady?”
Harriet pointed to the orange dress sitting in the corner. “That orange one. My mother agreed it was too childish for me and had it redone.”
“It certainly is ugly.”
Harriet grinned. That was exactly what sort of reaction she hoped to gain. “It is that.”
The dress left moments later in the maid’s arms and on its way to be ironed. Sighing, Harriet began looking for a shawl and shoes to wear. She would wear minimal make up. Her hair would deliberately be an unflattering look. Something a woman thirty years her senior might wear.
Walking out of the dressing room, Harriet found her diary and sat down at the desk to begin writing how her day had transpired, which had been most importantly her day in the park with Lucien and Onyx’s dreadful fall. The day certainly had been eventful.
Keeping a diary was one of the best things her mother instilled in her. Later, her tutor, Miss Black encouraged her as well. Both women said one day she could go back and read olderjournals and recall what was going on at the time and what her feelings were about it.
She wrote about her afternoon with Lucien and their ride in the park. Every minute detail was remembered and added. Onyx’s accident and how both she and Lucien thought the incident was intentional. They’d both seen figures run off from the scene, but their attention was focused on the stallion. He’d come down hard, landing on his knees. They were a bloody mess, to quote Lucien. If the animal survived the next weeks without infection setting in, it would take months for him to heal.
Her feelings for Lucien resonated throughout her writing. She included her idea to keep this Newton fellow at arm’s length this evening by wearing the most hideous, ugly dress she owned. She had no interest in any other man except Lucien, and dressing this way as well as ignoring the man as much as possible should deter him.
Somewhere in the background someone cleared their throat. Her lady’s maid was patiently waiting back the door.
“It is time to dress for the evening,” she said.
“How long have I been writing?”
“More than an hour,” the young girl replied.
Harriet closed the journal and placed it in the top drawer of the desk. “Let’s do this.”
Sometime later, Harriet emerged, her hair severely styled, the orange dress looking no better than it had been even as a ball gown. That’s what she intended to accomplish.
“I think this look should do the trick, don’t you?” Harriet asked.
The young woman nodded. “Yes, I do, milady.”
Harriet left the room and found her way downstairs and to the drawing room. Upon entering she saw Newton sitting on a gold-and-cream chair.
“Lord Newton, I hope you haven’t waited long.”
He shook his head, making it obvious the dismay he felt seeing her. “No, I just arrived.”
“I’m sure Arthur and Lady Daphne will be here momentarily,” she replied.
Without waiting for a reply, she wandered over to Sam to offer him a treat. The parrot knew what was coming and began bobbing his head up and down.
“What are you doing?” Newton asked.
“I’m going to give Sam a treat.”
“Don’t touch him. He’s a wild bird and filthy.”
“Yes, he is wild, but Lady Daphne considers him part of the family. He’s a gift from her father.” Harriet picked up a fresh piece of apple from his dish and handed it to him. When Sam gobbled up the fruit he yelled, “More! More!”
“I think you can get another slice yourself.”
