Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

“ O h, I am full to the brim with curiosity,” Lady Meredith fanned herself; the urgency with which they were discussing matters concerning others was leaving her frustrated. “No one has seen her in six months.”

A bored Harriet Cooper stood between the ranks of her overeager mother, Albina, and one of her friends, Lady Meredith. They were in attendance at the ball where both ladies were eagerly huddled together, engaging in what they enjoyed most: gossip.

Albina nodded, “Strange. That Emma girl is such a wallflower. Are we certain that she is not simply hiding in her house?”

“Oh, no, no. What I hear is quite a bit more…” Lady Meredith lowered her tone conspicuously, “scandalous.”

“You must tell me,” Albina urged.

“She has not been seen for the last six months. Can you believe it? I am certain she must be either shunned, or hiding a horrible secret.”

It was at this point that Harriet had heard enough. She looked around in the crowd, having had more than her fill of gossip for the evening. Or rather, the entire month. What others got up to was never something she considered herself too interested in.

Luckily, she spotted Lady Arabella in the crowd, who walked over. “The countess has outdone herself again — for she has managed to bring the infamously opposed Harriet to another ball,” she grinned mischievously.

“The least you could do is commiserate my situation,” Harriet narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Now that both of my sisters are wedded, I can scarcely find any excuse to talk myself out of attending these blasted things.”

“It is only expected,” Lady Arabella noted, “for you have turned twenty and three this year, have you not? If you delay finding a match much longer, then surely a life of spinsterhood is in your future.”

Harriet resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Please. Why are we all so adamant on insisting that a woman’s desirability diminishes once she reaches the mid-point of her twenties?”

“You may disagree with the notion,” Arabella mused, unconvinced, “but the fact of the matter remains that this is the truth. We should not hide from it. You cannot run away from marriage forever.”

“Oh, but I don’t intend to,” Harriet passed Arabella a mischievous smile. “I believe that I will only marry when I am truly rendered impressed. And frankly…”

Harriet looked around the room, an indifferent look glazing her eyes. “I am not sure if anyone meets that requirement.”

Arabella shook her head. At this point, she was quite used to her friend’s rather eccentric musings. Harriet had always thought differently than other girls her age, and that was no secret. Where most young girls dreamt of their white-horse prince and fairytale romance, Harriet felt those things were too shallow — as was the money and status that her mother was so concerned about.

What Harriet sought from a partner was much deeper. A clean heart, the right principles, and someone who could let her be herself.

It was a demanding list, perhaps. It was no wonder then that none of the gentlemen who had pursued her till now fitted the mold.

“You mustn’t be so picky,” Arabella nudged her friend, “After all, a lady who is never happy with anything gets a bad reputation amongst the ton.”

“Surely, I care deeply about my reputation,” Harriet’s words dripped with sarcasm.

“Well, you should. As a lady, appearances are everything. If the Emma situation teaches us anything, it is that whatever the truth is, it looks quite awful that she has just gone missing out of the blue. How scandalous, and truly unbecoming of a lady.”

“Rumors often are baseless, and a wise person should think twice before trusting them. Perhaps Miss Spencer simply chose to take an extended holiday,” Harriet reasoned.

“Bless your heart,” Arabella covered her mouth as she giggled, “If only the other members of the ton were as kind as you.”

“Where is the countess?” Arabella asked, her eyes wandering the room. “I believe I have not seen her in a while now, and she will be enthused when I tell her the news of my engagement.”

“Oh, please don’t,” Harriet pleaded. “Otherwise, I shall never hear the end of it. You know she is already trying so hard to get me married off before the end of the season; the news of your engagement will only expedite her efforts.”

“Harriet, it cannot be so bad,” Arabella shrugged.

“Oh, it is,” Harriet pressed. “She has embarrassed me in front of suitors more times than I can count. Just last week, she practically sang my praises to Lord Pembroke in front of everyone. He looked at me as if I were a prize mare at auction!”

“Ah,” a look of recognition came over Arabella’s face, “well, eagerness is never something that fares well with gentlemen but do not forget that you are quite the catch yourself. There is some truth to her words.”

Harriet sighed, feeling a mixture of affection and exasperation towards her well-meaning mother. “If only she would let me be. I’m beginning to think she’ll never stop until I’m married off to the highest bidder.”

“Well, would that be so bad? At least you will be well-taken care of.”

Harriet shrugged, her attention already wandering. She spotted her mother across the room speaking to one of the valets, and she sighed inwardly. Albina had been acting oddly of late, her attempts to match Harriet with a suitable gentleman becoming more desperate by the day.

What is she up to now? It seemed that Albina never had a moment of peace.

As if on cue, the valet approached Harriet, bowing respectfully. “Miss Cooper, your mother requests your presence in the orangery. She says it is a matter of urgency.”

“Thank you,” Harriet said politely, turning to face her friend. “You must excuse me, Lady Arabella. It seems that I am being summoned to participate in another one of my mother’s schemes.”

“Godspeed, my lady,” Arabella chuckled.

“I will surely need it,” she muttered under her breath, slowly extracting herself from the busy crowd.

Harriet did not have to wonder too much to guess what her mother likely wanted from her. It would be another attempt at introducing her to some gentleman, trying her hardest to secure a match even if there was no mutual liking to speak of. It was embarrassing, and greatly tarnished the unbothered reputation that Harriet had built for herself.

It made her seem tacky, snobby and more than a smidge desperate.

She arrived at the orangery, which was dimly lit to the point that she could not see a thing. The scent of citrus and flowers was heavy in the air.

Strange, she thought to herself. Why did her mother choose this of all places to meet? The place seemed rather desolate, with none of the guests lurking anywhere nearby. If she knew one thing from her upbringing, it was that ladies should never lurk in discreet corners like this. If spotted, one could give rise to a whole plethora of unwarranted rumors.

Still, if her mother called her here, it must not be without reason.

Without wasting another moment, Harriet ushered her way inside. “Mother?” she called out, her voice echoing softly.

Harriet could not see anything at all. She squinted her eyes, trying to feel her surroundings to locate any candles.

“Are you here?” she called out again, feeling a chill as the wind begun to blow from the open window. It was an overcast night, and any moonlight pouring in through the window was sparse.

There was no response, but a gust of wind blew the door shut behind her.

“I wouldn’t close that door if I were you,” a deep voice emerged from the shadows at the same time.

Startled, Harriet turned to see a tall figure stepping into the faint light. She could not make out his face properly, and strained her eyes to see. When he stepped a bit closer, she realized that he had a pair of the most striking green eyes.

“I… I was trying to…” she found herself growing a bit flustered. Running into a man in a darkened orangery had been the furthest thing from her mind when she had made her way over here.

“No, I do not think you understand,” the man seemed to regard her with a cool, assessing gaze. “You really should not have let that door close. Now both of us are stuck in here.”

“Stuck?” Harriet repeated, surprised. She made her way over to the door herself, pulling at the knob to open it but finding that it did not budge. “Why is it not turning?”

She heard a deep, disappointed sigh, followed by a series of footsteps, and the gentleman was in front of her. “I have been locked here for the better part of the hour. This door only opens from the outside.”

Harriet felt her stomach turn, uncomfortably. “I am Lady Harriet Cooper. Introduce yourself.”

“The Duke of Atherton,” the man replied.

“Your Grace,” she bowed immediately, even though he could barely see her.

“But I suspect you knew that already, did you not?” he continued, his tone turning a touch accusative.

He turned to face her, his countenance menacing. She could not make out much in the darkness but felt the intensity of his gaze as though he were the sun. It made her squirm.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”

“This whole thing, it was merely a clever ruse to entrap me, was it not?” he said. “When did you plan this?”

Harriet began to feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “Why, I could ask you the same thing. What business did you have lurking in this empty orangery, if not to trap me?” she replied, feeling appalled.

Harriet had a tendency to grow defensive. Whenever she felt that she was being unfairly accused, she would flip the table and accuse the other person of the same thing. It was something that she had learnt while growing up with her sisters.

However, this situation felt a lot more serious.

“Of course you would say this now to avoid blame,” the duke continued.

“Your Grace, I will not let you slander me like this. I was summoned here by my mother, and did not know you were here. Why did you not say anything the moment I entered the room?”

Her argument seemed to placate the duke, but only momentarily. “I was busy trying to find the candles.”

“And did you have any success with it?” her own tone was impatient.

“Of course not. Why would we be sitting here bathed in darkness if that were the case? Now, tell me honestly, did you do this on purpose?” he asked.

Harriet’s blue eyes flashed with anger. “I do not know why you keep saying that. It is baseless. Just because you are a duke does not mean that you are to say whatever may come in your mind.”

The duke’s voice dropped dangerously low. “It would be in your best interest not to lie to me.”

“What benefit would it be to me to lie to you?”

“Tell me again — what was your last name?” he demanded.

“Harriet Cooper,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“Cooper,” he seemed to be racking his brains. “Lord William Cooper, Earl of Ramsbury. Is that your father?”

“Correct,” she replied, feeling as though she was under interrogation. It was just the way that he spoke — authoritative, demanding — like no one had ever said no to him in his entire life.

“And what about your family? Do you have a brother?”

“No, Your Grace. We are three sisters. I am the youngest, and the other two are wedded.”

“Ah, yes — the youngest. What might be your age?”

“Twenty and three.”

She was not a spinster, as of yet. But on the brink of being one. The admission seemed to set off a moment of recognition within the duke.

“Albina Cooper…” he strained initially to remember. “I believe I know of your mother. She introduced herself to me recently at a ball, and… of course!”

Harriet felt a bit lost. Where was he going with his remarks? “I am not quite sure if I follow, Your Grace. You seemed to be well-versed in my filiation, but how is that meant to help us get out of this room?”

The duke had begun pacing around now, his annoyance rolling off him in waves. It should have been an off-putting site — and to a degree, it was — but, instead, she found herself admiring his silhouette.

Stop that. She chided herself immediately.

“Your mother mentioned that she has an unwed daughter,” he spoke again, turning to face her now.

Harriet folded her arms in front of her. In earnest, her interactions with dukes had been scarce for the most part. In fact, he might be the first one with whom she’d had a conversation.

“My mother likes to speak about her daughters to anyone who might listen. It is quite harmless, really. I do not hold it against her.”

“No, no — you make it sound as though it is a neutral thing. But I am not an idiot.”

“Pardon?” Harriet asked, confused now with the direction he was taking.

“Yes, yes… I believe that I have heard about her machinations. It is clear she intends to see you married off to the highest bidder, and what better way than to entangle you in a scandal? Surely, you are complicit?”

Now that Harriet thought about it, it could very well be true. It was Albina who called her here in the first place. Still, her pride did not allow her to be spoken to in this manner, and her fury only mounted.

“You have no right to speak of my mother that way. And you, Your Grace, are no innocent bystander. You arrived here first, not I.”

“If I knew that such a clever ruse was contingent upon my presence then I would have never set foot in here,” he said.

“Your Grace, stop referring to what is an unfortunate situation for the both of us as a ruse. I conspired nothing!”

“How shamelessly you say it when you’ve put your honor on the line like this,” he replied, causing Harriet’s cheeks to burn red.

“You have no right to speak about my honor.”

“And you have every right to trap me like this?” he stepped closer to her, causing her to back away immediately.

But in the small space, it was difficult to get too far, and soon her back found itself flat against the wall.

“I am not entrapping you,” she argued back. “As it stands, you are the one who is far too close right now, not leaving me any space to leave.”

His lips twitched slightly. Up close, she could see him a bit better than before. He seemed to be analyzing her. Trying to figure out whether she was the conniving woman he was accusing of, or perhaps just something else entirely. She was not sure what his intent was, but his reaction had sent her heart racing.

“Your Grace, this is wildly improper,” she managed to squeak out, though her cheeks were burning from the proximity.

She had never been this close to a man before. It set off a strange set of reactions within her body — those that she had never felt before.

“It is your doing!”

As their voices echoed in the orangery, neither noticed the approaching footsteps until it was too late. The door creaked open, and a group of guests entered. The sound of laughter was replaced by a collective gasp as they took in the scene in front of them.

“Lady Harriet. Your Grace!”

Harriet and the duke stood frozen, their argument abruptly silenced by the intrusion.

Lady Margaret gasped, her fan fluttering wildly. “What is going on here?”

Harriet’s heart pounded as she looked around at the astonished faces. Among the crowd, her mother’s expression was a mix of feigned surprise and barely concealed satisfaction. Harriet’s heart sank as she realized her mother’s true intentions. This was no accident.

The duke straightened, his gaze icy. “It appears we have been... misunderstood,” he said, his voice tight with controlled anger.

Albina stepped forward, her expression unreadable, “My dear Harriet, what have you done?”