Page 74 of The Lady’s Sweet Revenge

Chapter Twenty-Six

It had seemed like the longest of afternoons with Harlow spending the time in the drawing room with his mother. Reese had ledgers to look over and other things he could be doing, but instead he found himself staring out the window until it was time for supper.

He practically leapt from his chair, all the sooner to get to the dining room so he could see Harlow. He should have been seeking ways to distance himself from her. But as he’d tried that already, he knew it wouldn’t make him want her any less. He was gone for the lass.

Which meant he would need to do something to secure a future with her. Something drastic like ask her to marry him. Again. And hope this time her answer would be different.

The meal was strange in that it was quieter. At least from his mother’s front. She didn’t seem resolved to push him into marriage by speaking of it every second of the time they were in a room together.

Instead she asked about the gardens and what flowers were there. She didn’t even sneer at the dog who had lumbered into the room to curl up unobtrusively next to Harlow’s chair.

He hoped the change was precipitated by her abandoning her marriage schemes once and for all.

The conversation went from the gardens to discussions in the House of Lords and Reese’s earlier efforts to get bills passed to help in the recovery of lands to Scots. It had been a great success with his friends at his side leading the charge.

Whether the other lords agreed or were simply intimidated by the three large Scots, Reese couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t much care if it resulted in getting the votes he’d needed.

“Will you play for us this evening?” his mother said. He glanced up to tell her he had other plans for the evening, when he saw she was looking directly at him.

“Me?”

“Yes. You play the pianoforte beautifully.”

Reese looked to the side thinking perhaps there was someone standing behind him that played the pianoforte beautifully. But no, it was only him. Unless, she meant Reggie the footman who had already moved away.

“Me?” he repeated, just to be sure because the idea was ludicrous.

“Yes. I know it’s been some time—”

“Some time? Mother I haven’t touched a piano since I was a lad of ten.” This wasn’t entirely true for just a few days before he’d ushered Harlow into the music room when his mother had gone upstairs for a nap, and taken Harlow on the very instrument. Meaning, he’d most definitely touched it. Though he’d never admit as much to his mother.

“That’s a shame. You were so good.”

She had never said anything encouraging about his playing. Hell, she rarely praised him for anything.

“What are you playing at mother?” he blurted, hoping his bluntness would shock her into telling the truth.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I remember you playing quite well, and I never had to lecture you about practicing, which meant you must have liked playing. If I am wrong about that, then please accept my apologies for misinterpreting it.”

He scowled at his roast as he tried to puzzle out what was happening. Had his mother been switched out with an imposter? If so, he needed to thank the person because this version was much better.

“In truth, I did enjoy it a lot. But in school, I was encouraged to put it aside to learn more important things. Like how to properly manage my lands and how parliament worked.” He looked up with a smile. “Very important, indeed, but not as much fun as playing.”

His mother gave a nod before speaking.

“Now that you have mastered all the things you needed to learn back then, you could return to the things you did for enjoyment, could you not? After all, finding happiness in the arts is just as important as making a profit. It is rather a profit for your soul.”

His gaze narrowed on his mother again as he studied her. But she didn’t look up from her plate to meet his eyes. Either she was quite interested in the food she regularly criticized or she was up to something.

Whatever it was, he could play along until she gave herself away. As he usually did when conversing with her, he looked out ahead of the conversation to predict her next move. Much like a person does when playing an opponent in chess. But this game was much more important because one false step and Reese could give up the entire game.

And then he saw it. Her plan. Did she think he would not see her manipulations so easily? Once he agreed to take up playing the piano again, she would likely request Harlow as a teacher, hoping to force them into close proximity where they might fall in love and marry.

Well, he would put a stop to that immediately.

He took another bite and stopped chewing abruptly when he considered the plan as if it had been his rather than his mother’s. He found it to be sound.

If Harlow could see that softer side of him, something else they shared that she loved, perhaps it would help him in winning her over.