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Chiswick itself was stunning. The house was elegant, the gardens were opulent, but most of all, it was welcoming. Haryo had shown her all the changes that the duchess had made. She could see how important the house was to Haryo because it reminded her of her mama. It made Eliza love it all the more.
She was also enjoying watching Haryo and Lord Granville. She was rapidly forming the opinion that he liked Haryo far more than he was admitting. It was something in the warmth of his eyes when he looked at her, particularly when she was unaware of his regard.
He looked at Lady Bess with undoubtedly warm friendship, but he looked at Haryo in a very different way. She hadn’t mentioned it to her yet, as she wasn’t sure Haryo would want to know.
She sat in the rose garden and lifted her face to the sun, knowing that she should preserve her complexion, not expose it to the ravages of the elements, but the warmth and light felt too good not to enjoy it for at least a moment. Hart had disappeared to attend to something, so she took a moment to sit quietly.
The only cloud on her horizon was Haryo’s repeated hints about her having a season. It would be nice, of course it would, but she didn’t really feel equipped for a season. She was a little worried that Haryo might just bring about a miracle and make it happen, but at what cost? Her mother would be apoplectic. She didn’t think that Haryo had actually done anything. There wasn’t much she could do, but she had told her family of what she described as her ‘plight’ and it had touched her to see sorrow among the Cavendish family that she would not be joining in with the season’s activities.
It was terribly lovely of her to be concerned, but Eliza was becoming increasingly worried that Charles and Mary might hear something, because more than one person had assumed she was here for the season. It had been good of Charles to allow her to join him. If he thought she was using it to petition to be presented, he would be awfully cross with her, and disappointed to boot.
They had been at Chiswick for well over two weeks, and it would soon be time to return to London. She knew she would miss the rambunctious family enormously.
Hart strode up, interrupting her worries, and threw himself on the seat beside her.
‘What’s got you looking so blue devilled?’ he asked, nudging her arm with his shoulder.
She shook her head. ‘Nothing, just wool-gathering.’
Hart gave her a long look that suggested he didn’t believe her. He really was handsome. Almost beautiful, really.
He took her hand and squeezed it. The kindness of the gesture touched her. ‘Come,’ he said, standing and smoothing his waistcoat. ‘I have the perfect walk for whatever ails you.’
Eliza peered down at her shoes. ‘I’m not really dressed for a walk.’
‘Goose. Would I take you somewhere that you were not wholly equipped for? Those will be perfectly adequate for what I have in mind.’
He held out his hand again, so she took it and let him pull her to her feet. ‘You are terribly kind,’ she said as she took his arm and they fell into step.
Hart lifted his chin and sniffed. ‘Well, it’s about time someone was.’
She didn’t dwell too much on his words, simply enjoyed the walk and his company as he never once mentioned her ‘plight’. She had discovered that when Hart dropped the charmingly blundering Marquess façade, he was funny, witty, and rather more intelligent than people gave him credit for.
She glanced up at his fair, windblown hair brushing across the pinkish colour of his usually pale cheeks and smiled. She was becoming inordinately fond of him. They walked about the estate, chatting about nothing in particular, and Eliza appreciated his company.
By the time they reached the house, she was feeling rather more herself. She surrendered her outer garments as Lady Caroline hurried into the hall and demanded Hart’s attention. He cast her an apologetic glance and disappeared with his cousin Caro. Eliza didn’t mind his abandonment. It was pleasing to see Lady Caroline in good spirits.
She shook out her dress and smiled at the footman who approached and handed her a letter.
All remnants of pleasure and calm withered as she recognised the handwriting.
She stared at it for a long time, not daring to open it, then, with a deep breath, ripped it open and scanned the contents. She was still staring at it when Hannah came into the room and frowned as soon as she saw Eliza.
‘Is something wrong? Who is your letter from?’
Eliza swallowed. ‘It… it’s from Mama.’
‘What did she say?’ Her gaze hardened. ‘What have you done?’
Chapter 21
ELIZA
London
Eliza and Hannah arrived back in London, making their way through the ever-increasing traffic to the house in Portman Square, with Hannah barely speaking to her. The two of them had made the journey in frosty silence whilst Mama’s letter burned a hole in Eliza’s reticule, Hannah’s words ringing in her ears.
‘This is your fault,’ she snapped as she scanned the letter, brows plunged down in a furious frown. ‘I expect Mama is coming to London because of your constant bleating about not having a season.’
