Page 73
Days after the heated encounter, Harriet could still feel the tingle on her lips, and if she closed her eyes, feel the strength of Granville’s arms about her. It was the silliest thing she had done since she kissed him the first time.
She watched Lady Elizabeth Foster fussing over her father and two dogs in the garden and tried not to sigh at the smile on her father’s face. Perhaps he would be happier married to her. Perhaps he needed more than just his dogs.
As she watched, Lady Liz took the hound’s ears in her hands and rubbed them gently, reducing the animal to abject adoration. It reduced her father to abject adoration, too. As she watched them, she realised that both of them probably had some idea of why Eliza was dubbed ‘mysterious’, but asking Lady Liz would be like taking out an advertisement in The Times. There was no point asking her father, as he was oblivious to what was going on in society, and if he did, he would not tell her.
Still pondering both the kiss and the conundrum that was Eliza, she went in search of her brother. Men pretended not to gossip, but in her opinion, they were some of the worst. What she wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall in one of the many gentlemens’ clubs around St James’s. One heard all manner of scurrilous tales, of fortunes won and lost, of gambling and drinking… It sounded like an awful lot of fun. It was a shame there were no ladies’ clubs. The idea brought a smile to her face as she headed for the library, where she found Hart sprawled in a chair by the lit fire, fast asleep.
She let the door slam and watched him jump. ‘Am I interrupting your slumber, brother dear?’
He groaned, shook himself, and sent her a decidedly unfriendly look. ‘Do you have to make so much noise?’
‘Do you have to be continually drunk?’
He pulled an extremely childish face that made her laugh as he pulled himself together.
She sat opposite and regarded him, hands on her lap. The library was a place for confidences. Quiet, solitary; it had been a place of refuge in her childhood when things were difficult. She wasn’t sure Hart had the same view of it but decided she trusted him enough to be discreet.
‘Can I rely on you to keep a confidence?’ she said.
He blinked and looked baffled. ‘Of course you can. When have I ever betrayed a confidence?’
She nodded. That was true. ‘It’s not about me, it’s about someone else, and I want to ask you a question, but you mustn’t repeat it. To anyone. Do you understand?’
He leaned forward, interest brightening his eyes. ‘I do. Pray tell.’
She sighed and hoped she would not regret this.
‘Have you any idea why Eliza Courtney is being styled as the mysterious Miss Courtney?’
Hart looked thoughtful as he appeared to be combing through his memory. ‘Well, not really. Of course, there is speculation, but nothing definite to my knowledge.’
‘What is the speculation?’
He shrugged and pulled a face. ‘That her father might be someone other than the Earl Grey?’
‘Is that what people are saying?’
He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t go that far. It’s not exactly on everyone’s lips, but I’ve heard it whispered.’ He looked at his hands, then back at Harriet. ‘Do you think it is true?’
‘I’ve no idea, but it’s upsetting Eliza, and I’d really like to find out the truth for her sake.’
Hart nodded. ‘It’s not pleasant,’ he said. ‘To be the subject of speculation.’
‘Are you talking about the gossip linking the two of you?’
He shrugged.
‘Is there anything between you and Eliza?’
Hart shook his head. ‘No, but I thought my paying attention to her might help her be more acceptable to the rest of the Ton regardless of the speculation.’
Harriet’s eyes widened. ‘Why, Hart. That’s… kind of you.’
‘I can be useful, and I am capable of kindness, Haryo. I’m not wholly decorative.’ He gave her his best offended look, and it made her laugh, as did his description of himself.
‘But, darling. You are terribly decorative. You are the one who inherited Mama’s beauty, all that golden hair and those eyes.’
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. ‘I know.’
