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She struggled to her feet, leaning heavily on her cane and Charles stood to help her, but she brushed him off. ‘You will do well to remember your place, my boy, and exactly what you owe this family,’ she said. ‘I tell you now, and your father would have said the same. Nothing good will come of this.’ On that dramatic note, she exited the room, head held high.

‘What a peculiar thing to say,’ Eliza said, staring after her.

Charles looked like he might say something but instead settled cuffs and smiled stiffly at her. ‘She just worries about you.’

‘So, am I to go to London?’

Charles huffed a smile. ‘You are, but you will be limited to the events that you can attend, and you must pay heed to my wife, as she will guide you in what is and what is not appropriate.’

‘Of course!’ Eliza was bouncing on her toes.

‘And we will arrange for some new clothes for you.’ Eliza squealed at this and threw her arms around him.

She was going to London!

Chapter 8

HARYO

London

Lady Harriet Cavendish stirred her tea and placed her teaspoon on the saucer. She looked down into the cup for a moment or two before looking up at the woman who had been her mother’s lifelong friend. Her father’s ‘friend’ too.

‘You will all come, won’t you, my darlings?’

Lady Elizabeth Foster smiled mistily at Harriet, her sister Gee, and her brother Hart, as they partook of delicious, iced confections in Gunther’s on the corner of Berkley Square, deploying her beautiful eyes in a way that irritated Harriet intensely. Having interrupted them, she clearly had no scruples about badgering them, but that was Lady Liz all over. She wheedled and cajoled, all with flighty murmurs, flapping hands, simpering eyes, and the most irritating babyish tones that she had used with her mother.

But the woman was relentless and, more often than not, she got her own way.

Harriet moved the handle of her cup to just the right angle and waited for the onslaught to continue. Lady Liz did not disappoint.

‘Darlings, the company will be absolutely stellar, and of course your dear, dear papa would be delighted to have you all at Chiswick with him,’ Lady Liz added with a sad little pout.

‘Oh goodness,’ Harriet said, deploying her own small eyes into a parody of sadness. ‘What a shame. I’m only recently returned from visiting Gee and Morpeth at Castle Howard and I am quite exhausted.’ She used the same whispery, cajoling tone as Lady Liz, but it appeared lost on her. She tried again. ‘I had thought to spend some time in London for a while, you know, to recruit my energies before the season begins.’

‘Oh, Haryo, darling, I do wish you would come. I think you would enjoy it enormously and your dear father would miss you horribly if you stayed in London.’ Those large, pretty eyes now hovered on the brink of tears. Not for the first time, Harriet wondered how on earth one made oneself weep at will. It was a mystery.

Lady Liz pronounced her nickname Hah’yo, in the drawl that characterised her mother and father’s Devonshire set. Hah’yo Candish. No-one called them Cavendish anymore. It was always Candish. It annoyed her beyond words.

She had no objection to visiting Chiswick; she loved the house and the gardens, but since her mother’s passing, she’d found it hard, particularly when Lady Liz was there cooing and fawning over her father, and usurping her mother’s place. What should have been her place, as hostess. It really was too much to bear.

Hart looked up from his ice with a baffled look. ‘Hmm?’ he said, waving his spoon. Hart had an ear infection as a child that had left him partly deaf in one ear. Sometimes he genuinely could not hear properly. Quite often, he deployed it to avoid things. Like now.

‘Chiswick, my dears,’ Lady Liz said a little louder. ‘Do come?’

‘Perhaps we should go. Haryo? What do you think?’ her brother said.

‘You should bring your darling children,’ Lady Liz said to Gee with a twinkle, a gurgle of laughter, and hands clasped before her. ‘Your papa has lots of beautiful puppies to show them.’

Harriet could barely conceal the roll of her eyes. Hart snorted.

Gee gave a sweet smile that bespoke more of a roll of the eyes. ‘We scarcely need more dogs, but we will consider it. The children will undoubtedly love to see their grandpapa,’ Gee said, graciously. Of all of them, Gee was usually the one to capitulate. She never could bear any kind of conflict.

Harriet opened her mouth to comment but felt her brother nudge her foot beneath the table so subsided, and after a few more inane pleasantries, and more cajolery, they agreed.

Lady Liz gave a little squeal of joy, fluttered her hands to her mouth. ‘Darlings,’ she squeaked. ‘I knew I could count on you.’ She pressed kisses to her hands and blew them at them as she departed hurriedly in a flurry of lace and perfume, presumably before Harriet could contradict her.

Harriet picked up her spoon as she watched her leave. ‘She is looking old,’ she observed with a sniff, as she resumed eating her rhubarb ice. What annoyed Harriet more than anything was the knowledge that beneath that vapid, fluttery nonsense, Lady Elizabeth Foster was a shrewd, intelligent woman. It was all flummery. She was intent on persuading their father, the duke, to marry her. That was her game, and they all knew it. Harriet had a feeling that Lady Liz felt that time was running out. There was an edge of desperation to her actions because she had a great deal to lose if the duke withdrew his protection.