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He laughed and shook his head. ‘I know, and you love me for it, but if you want to make a deeper connection with him, you could do worse than to exclaim with joy over his new puppies. You could even go one step further and profess a deep and abiding love for one of them.’ He winked at her. Winked! ‘See what happens.’

The worst thing about his observation was that it was true. She’d learned long ago that if she made a fuss of the dogs, he spoke to her more, but as she’d grown, she’d refused to play what seemed like a silly game. The problem with taking that high moral ground was that she was standing there alone whilst Lady Liz had all his attention.

She looked over at her father and felt a pang. Her mother’s death had hit him harder than she thought it might. She’d been of the opinion that he didn’t really care a great deal for the duchess, yet her passing seemed to have hurt him and left him badly shaken.

‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

Harriet firmed her chin and arched a brow. ‘If you think your words bring fresh news to my ears, you are sadly wrong. One need not be a philosophical genius to work out the way to my father’s heart.’

Lord Granville sighed theatrically. ‘And yet no-one but Lady Elizabeth uses it.’

She wanted to tell him to shut up and flounce off, but she remained calm. ‘Perhaps only Lady Elizabeth wishes to prostrate herself in such a vulgar manner.’

‘Perhaps.’ He gave her an unreadable look. ‘And perhaps she is seeking a match.’

Harriet sighed, loudly. ‘I don’t think one needs to be a genius to discern that, either,’ she said with a withering look. Everyone knew what she was up to. Harriet had already spent too much time staying with Gee and Lord Morpeth at Castle Howard just to keep out of the wretched woman’s way. Sadly, that had only served to give Lady Liz time to continue her campaign of wheedling.

‘But let’s not talk of that,’ he said, offering her his arm in such a way that it would have been churlish and far too obvious to refuse it. She lay her hand on his arm and let him walk her across the room to the window that overlooked the ornate garden.

‘Tell me, have you read anything of interest lately? I confess I’ve not had much time, but I know I can rely on you for excellent recommendations.’

Harriet sniffed and looked away. It was easy to see why the man had a successful diplomatic career. He could make anyone talk about anything.

‘I have read little recently as I’ve been busy too. However, cousin Caro has been pressing me to read poetry by a chap named Byron. She seems awfully taken with him.’

‘And have you read any?

Harriet shook her head. ‘No, though Hart was friends with him at university and said good things about his work, too.’

‘He’s reputed to be outrageously handsome.’

‘So I believe. Hart mentioned that too.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Several times.’

Lord Granville smiled. What she thought of as his natural smile, not his social offering.

‘Caro has had a difficult time of late, so I’ll indulge her and read her recommendations. When I’ve done so, I shall give you my opinion and perhaps you can decide whether to give it your time.’

Lord Granville nodded, his smile turning to an expression of concern as he looked over at Caro. ‘A difficult time indeed. I’m glad to see her out and about again. It’s been a while.’

Harriet nodded. Lord Granville had always been incredibly kind to Caro. Sometimes he was the only one who could make any headway with her when she was in one of her moods. They were both quiet for a moment as they considered her, but social etiquette dictated that discussing a relative’s miscarriage in the drawing room was simply not done so they changed the subject and talked of Hart’s escapades with William.

Lady Liz’s daughter, Caroline St Jules (the family seemed filled with Carolines), and Charlotte Spencer, who also lived with them, arrived in a flurry of excitement and they made a beeline for Lord Granville, who seemed only too pleased to engage them in conversation. Caroline St Jules was devastatingly pretty, and betrothed to George Lamb, and Harriet watched as she flirted outrageously with him. He, to his credit, it had to be said, seemed impervious to her charms. He simply smiled his social smile and humoured her.

Charlotte was a little older and much quieter. She was yet another child that her mother had collected on her travels. The duchess had brought back Caroline St Jules, Charlotte Spencer, and then Augustus Clifford. They already had Lady Liz’s two sons from a previous marriage, so it was a full household. One was rarely short of company.

When she was younger, Harriet had often wondered who would turn up next. Her mother seemed to have something of a penchant for abandoned children. It made her think of little Eliza Courtney and how kind Mama had been to her when they visited.

She’d left a card at the Grey residence and intended to pay them a morning call. It would be nice to become reaquainted. She hadn’t had the opportunity since Mama had passed. Not long after, Lord Grey had passed, as had Lady Hannah’s husband, so the family had been in deep mourning. As the Grey family home was somewhere in the wilds of Northumberland, there had been little opportunity to see them.

When eventually the visitors left, and the family returned to their rooms to rest, cousin Caro to nurse her sick headache, Harriet sat with her aunt, who seemed to want to talk as it was just the two of them.

She fixed her with a look. ‘You should marry,’ Aunt Bess said, quite out of the blue.

Harriet, too, wondered if she was destined for a headache. She took a breath and replied calmly. ‘Do you think so? I fear I am sadly past the first flush, and I have to admit, I have heard the word ‘bluestocking’ whispered in my presence more than once.’ Harriet hoped her light-hearted response would nudge her aunt into cheerier topics other than her spinster status.

Even though Harriet was used to endless amounts of matchmaking, her aunt’s next words, delivered in that airy fashion that only her aunt could achieve, couldn’t have shocked her more.

‘You should marry Lord Granville.’