The Marquess and the Maiden(23)

"That's ridiculous."

"No, you're ridiculous." Agnes slipped off her shoes and bounced a bit  on the mattresses to test their give. "Do you know that I heard the most  extraordinary thing about Lord Davenport?"

Curiosity ate at her. "And you haven't told me yet?"

"I haven't had a chance." They sat facing each other on the mattresses,  their knees pressed together as they'd done as girls. "His overspending  serves a greater purpose."

"That makes no sense."

"Actually, it does. His ties to Benedict's. Rumor has it that they grew  up together and lived near each other. Benedict's father was a baron and  the marquess, Oliver's father, convinced the baron to make a certain  investment. They lost everything. Had to sell the title and small  estate. Davenport is reported to have funded Benedict's gaming hell and  then ensured it became the most popular club so that his friend would  regain his own family's lost fortune."

Harriet's heart pounded wildly in her chest. Had she so misjudged him?

"They also said that he did the design of this house, to rebuild it, and did much of the labor himself."

Harriet wasn't quite certain what to do with this news. He had never  denied his greed, and though he had rebuilt his family's estate and  coffers, he continued to grow his fortune until he was likely richer  than the Crown. That made no sense other than to reveal a heart  inherently full of greed. She would have to speak to him again about his  wealth and perhaps persuade him to parlay a portion to those who were  less fortunate. Perhaps he merely needed a push to shift his generosity  to those he didn't know personally.

She should commend him on his charity and tenacity at righting his  father's wrongs. She had certainly known when the Davenports had fallen  on hard times. She'd been young, but she'd listened to her parents  discuss it. Her mother had passed along gowns, barely worn, to Oliver's  mother so that her friend would have appropriate clothing to wear.

Then his father had died. Under questionable circumstances. Though no  one ever spoke of it, Harriet's mother had always said the man had  killed himself. Dug a hole so deep, he'd buried his family and then he'd  crawled out to die somewhere alone, leaving them to scramble upward on  their own.         

     



 

A pang of compassion filled her. Perhaps it was understandable that  Oliver clung so desperately to his funds. She certainly had never known  what it was like to wonder if she had food for the following day. Her  greatest concerns had involved keeping up with the latest of fashions.

Agnes sprang to her feet. "Shall we practice?"

"Yes."

"Should we invite Justine and Tilly?"

Harriet shook her head. "I can't imagine that they would be upset, but  I'd rather they not know that Lord Davenport is aware of our group. So  many members blamed Iris for the exposure in Lord Ashby's newspaper."

"Yes, I believe you're right." They began with a few general exercises  to warm up their bodies. Lady Somersby had taught them that they could  only be as effective as they were agile and alert. She had always  insisted that her girls, as she called them, had skills in a variety of  areas. Though they were never called upon to physically fight during  their duties, Lady Somersby felt very strongly about them all being  trained to protect themselves.

Harriet and Agnes sparred for several moments before either of them  spoke again. "I have missed this," Agnes said. "I do hope we uncover  Lady X's identity soon so that we can return to our duties."

"Indeed. That woman has ruined everything for us. Before we know it,  pickpockets will have the run of Bond Street," Harriet said.

"Perhaps Iris and Lord Ashby are having some fortune uncovering the woman's identity," Agnes said.

"Or they're busy planning their wedding."

She went through the motions of the fighting with Agnes, but admittedly  she wasn't focused on the task at hand. She kept replaying Agnes's  words …  He likes you. He'd said he desired her, described in detail what  he'd wanted to do, and followed through with some of those promises last  night. Her body reacted to the memory; desire burned through her veins.  Harriet longed to do anything to shake the feeling of guilt that ate at  her. If she'd misjudged him about all of this, then perhaps his  proposal had been sincere.

She could not afford to tangle with Oliver. She wanted a man who would  love her in return, and she knew that he could never offer her such  things. Marrying him would be pleasant, he'd proved as much last night.  But all the sinful pleasures of the flesh that he could offer her  wouldn't make up for the fact that eventually she'd love him and he  would tire of her.

She would rather be alone than in a marriage by herself.





Chapter Twelve


He had relished the surprise and subsequent warmth in her eyes when he'd  showed her and Agnes the room he'd made for them. No, it wasn't  completely necessary. They weren't going to be at the estate for too  much longer. But his mother's suggestion to show interest in something  she cared about seemed as good a plan as any. And the room would be  ready for her whenever they did visit Brookhaven.

Yet for all his efforts, it seemed Harriet was still intent on him  marrying someone else. The party guests had all gathered into the front  parlor for a rousing game of I Have a Basket and they were currently up  to letter J.

Everyone was participating with the exception of the mothers. Not merely  his and Harriet's, but the others who had attended with their daughters  as well as Harriet herself. She sat over with the matrons as if she  were somehow so much older than the rest of the guests, including her  friends who were all playing. Even without partaking in the game,  Harriet was obviously enjoying herself. On more than one occasion, she'd  tilted her head back and laughed jovially. The mere sound of it surged  through him, bringing him unexpected pleasure.

He moved closer to Agnes since he'd already had his turn and, in fact, had brought along a chinchilla in the basket.

"My lord," Agnes said as he stood next to her. "Are you having an enjoyable party?"

"I am. And yourself?"

"I've always found this particular game to be rather juvenile, but  watching Millicent get knocked out of the round because she couldn't  think of anything that started with an E was rather entertaining."

"Ears," he said.

"Eyeballs," she added. "At least that's what I'd been thinking."

"Why is Harriet over there with all the matrons and not playing?" he asked.

Agnes looked across the room to where her friend sat, hands folded  primly in her lap. "I suspect she is trying to put some distance between  the two of you. You make her nervous, my lord."

He knew he affected Harriet. He'd seen the signs of her attraction, seen  her annoyance and even humor, but he'd never imagined he made her  nervous. She was always so certain when she spoke to him, telling him  precisely how she felt.         

     



 

"Kangaroos and lions," one of the women said, "this basket is full of the most exotic animals." She laughed gleefully.

"None more exotic than his lordship's chinchillas," Lady Felicia said.

He'd been avoiding the woman since she'd arrived. She was a shameless  flirt, and he saw no reason to encourage the attentions when he was not  remotely interested. Despite the fact that she was lovely, she held no  intrigue for him the way that Harriet did.

"It has not been my intention to make her feel ill at ease," he said to Agnes.

"What are your intentions?"

"To marry her."

"She doesn't seem to believe you."

"Yes, I've noticed that. Do you know why she's so reluctant to believe that I would want to marry her?"

Agnes eyed Harriet across the room, then looked up at him. "I do not  know all of the details, my lord, but I do know that several years ago,  her mother had arranged a union     with her and a man who was very cruel  in his rejection of her. It was devastating to Harriet. She'd always  been so careful around men, but her nerves would get the better of her  and she'd end up behaving rather awkwardly. After that incident, she  decided she'd only marry for love. Though, to be perfectly honest, she  hasn't really let any man get close to her so there's been no chance at a  love match."

"She's protecting herself from getting hurt," he said.

"I believe she is."

From him. He was a bastard of the worst sort. He hadn't rejected her,  he'd merely rejected the notion of marrying anyone for money. He wasn't  sorry that he hadn't agreed to marry her that night. He was damned proud  of the fact that he'd single-handedly rebuilt the Davenport fortune,  restored honor back to the family name. Yet he wished that he hadn't  dismissed her so callously. Perhaps they could have courted then, waited  to marry until he'd regained some funds. He recognized that none of  that would have worked. He'd not been healed enough then. Anger had  fueled his every move six years ago, and had he unleashed it on Harriet,  he would have broken her spirit.