“But of course,” Harriet replied.
“How are your suites? Are they to your liking? If there’s anything you want to change, just let me know.”
“They are perfect. I’ll let you know if there’s anything we want to change,” Harriet said.
At the top of the stairs, they went their separate ways with the promise to meet again in two hours for a proper tea in the drawing room. It was quiet when Harriet entered the sitting room of their suite. She had planned on lying down for a while and perhaps reading, but Harriet noticed some new correspondence on the writing desk.
She walked over and picked up the four pieces of correspondence. All of it was for Lucien, so she set it to one side. Sitting down and pulling out paper, Harriet began to go through the invitations they’d received and put them all in order. She wrote down which ball was first, who it was given by, and the time. She’d told Lucien she’d do so as it would make it easy for them.
Once she finished, Harriet set the salver with Lucien’s mail at the center of the small desk and moved her list and letters to the left side. Picking up a novel she’d started, Harriet sat down on a couch and swung her legs up. It felt good to be off her feet. She never allowed herself time for things like reading in the middle of an afternoon. Plus, if her mother had been around there was always something to do or participate in. It forced her to find places in the house she could hide and have time to herself. Areas her mother wouldn’t think of going. It made things a little more tolerable and fun, especially since her mother didn’t think young ladies should have fun.
Winifred passed through Harriet’s mind for a moment. She wondered if she were still up to her shenanigans. It had hurt her at first, but once she realized Winnie was only in it to impress others, Harriet let it go. She knew their paths would cross again.
She realized Arthur and Daphne needed to be invited to, if not her parents’ party, some of the others. Perhaps she could ask Lucien’s mother if she could find out if they’d been invited. They had done so much when it came to getting her season started when her own mother decided her daughter needed some help. Of course, if you were to ask her mother now, she’d claim it was she who’d been responsible for her daughter’s match. That was all right. Let her mother have her own version of things. She and Daphne knew the truth.
In the distance, she heard the clap of thunder. The noise caused her to look out the window. The beautiful clear day they’d started out with was clouding over quickly and the wind was picking up as well. A closer pop of thunder, this time with lightning right behind the thunder made her get up and go to the window to look.
Rain began pelting the side of the house, making seeing out the window impossible. Another rumble of thunder followed immediately by a bright flash of lightning was enough to keep Harriet from taking another step towards the windows. All she could do was hope the storm would pass and the rest of the day would be pleasant.
She looked around the room for a moment. She had nothing to occupy her time. No needlework or books here. She decided to go upstairs and get the book she was reading, as this would keep her busy until the storm stopped or until she finished the book.
As Harriet entered their suite the first thing she noticed was the fire had recently had more fuel added. The warmth on such a dreary day felt good. The book was in the bedchamber sitting on the night table. She picked up the novel and had turned toretrace her steps when she decided to climb up on the bed and read. She made herself comfortable in the pillows and pulled a small blanket over herself. Opening the book to the place she’d left last time, Harriet quickly immersed herself in the story.
Despite her eyes feeling heavy, Harriet didn’t give in to what her body craved—sleep. She’d never had a problem with getting enough sleep before Lucien, but now, they stayed awake most nights doing things she’d never dared to think about until her marriage. Slowly her eyes gave into her body.
“Harriet, darling. You need to wake up and dress for dinner,” a very familiar baritone said lowly.
She cracked an eye to find Lucien sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand rubbing her shoulder.
“No, thank you,” she sleepily replied.
“Cook is serving Scottish salmon with that dill sauce you like so much.”
Still, she did not move. It was still raining outside as bad as when she’d first come in here. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s still raining, so don’t forget to bring a wrap. The dining room can feel cold and damp, especially on a night like this.”
“That’s nice,” she whispered.
“We mustn’t keep them waiting.”
“Who?”
“My mother and father. Remember, you and my mother had tea together?”
“Yes, I remember. She told me some scandalous things about you when you were younger,” she said. It was fun to see his face as he scrambled to think of what his mother might have said. He’d been quite mischievous as a child, so it could be anything. Nothing threatening, just things like pulling harmless pranks on staff and family.
“Trust me, anything I may have done as a young boy reflects nothing about the man I’ve become today.”
“If you say so,” Harriet responded.
“Come on, Harriet. Time to get up.”
She sighed. “Very well, you win.”
“It’s not a competition,” he replied.
“Not if there’s Scottish salmon with dill sauce involved,” she giggled.
