Chapter Eight

D ory covertly watched Lord Harewood as he engaged Lord Sommerset in conversation after dinner. His kiss earlier in the day had been a shock, but a far from unpleasant one. She was anxious to kiss him again for two reasons. The first was that she’d been so taken by surprise that she hadn’t truly had time to observe all the nuances of the kiss. His pine scent was what she remembered the most, followed by the texture of his tongue. But just as a warm feeling started in her belly, he pulled away and her mind suddenly cleared with the utmost precision. It was this very effect that was her second reason for wishing for another kiss. She truly believed he could cure her penchant for prolonged oration.

He’d also sparked a riotous mickle of thoughts in her head as to his intentions, feelings, and suitability as a husband. No one had ever kissed her before. She’d worn more dresses than had dances, and no one had ever walked with her in the garden anywhere. To have Lord Harewood, known as a rather cool and stilted fish, be the one to kiss her was surprising. She equated him with a black lamppost in the daylight, with his dark clothes and hair. Could he actually have fire in his head like a lit streetlight? She stifled a chuckle at her own image but sobered quickly as she wished to find out. But how?

Just then, the butler entered the parlor. “My lady, the garden is ready.”

The marchioness lifted her chin. “Thank you, Haggett. We will remove ourselves to there presently.”

Rose grabbed Dory’s wrist, her eyes sparkling. “I do believe Mother’s vision will be magical.”

Having been the recipient of all the details earlier in the day, she too anticipated the spectacle Lady Enderly had planned. Tonight was to make sure all would be perfect for when the rest of the guests would see it.

Lady Enderly rose. “Come, all. I need everyone to take a portion of the gardens to ensure we have the perfect effect. If you see any area unlit, be sure to come to me at once. Lord Enderly and I will inspect the six middle courts. Lord and Lady Sommerset, if you would take the most eastern seven? And, Felton, you can take the ladies with you to inspect the western courts. We have but an hour before the lights will go out, so be thorough but expedient.” She looked pointedly at Rose, who silently nodded.

Lord Harewood walked to the settee and gestured with his arm toward the door. “May I suggest we exit by the library doors to start at the beginning of Mother’s spectacle?”

Rose grabbed her hand and forced her to rise, not that she was hesitant to go. She was quite anxious to both see the lit gardens and be in Lord Harewood’s company again.

Without answering her brother, Rose pulled her out of the room and down the corridor to the library, which had its doors open and a few lamps lit. Rose quickly led them out the French doors and across the wide but shallow terrace Dory had seen from her balcony. In no time, they were at the entrance to the gardens, which had very tall hedges and a beautiful arched bower, but in the dark of night, the bower was lit with very small lanterns, making it feel as if they’d walked into a faerie world.

“I love how Mother arranged this.” Rose let go of her and fairly skipped into the first gathering area, what Lady Enderly called courts.

Dory walked beneath the lit bower and stopped, in awe of the beauty of the garden. This court boasted a small fish fountain, only the water did not flow because the fish held a lantern in its mouth, lighting the detail of the sculpted figures. Lanterns of all sizes hung from the three small trees and the hedge itself had small enclosed lights seemingly embedded in them.

“It’s quite spectacular, is it not?”

At Lord Harewood’s low voice behind her, she shivered, the sound so close to her that she felt it down to her toes. She didn’t turn, though she wanted to. “It takes away my very breath.”

He stepped up next to her. “Mother is quite proud of her garden. She lights it about every three years for some fete or another.”

She wasn’t sure whether she found it hard to breathe because of the beauty before her or the man beside her, but making any response was beyond her.

Rose, who had been inspecting all the lighting, came back to her. “This area is perfect. Let’s proceed. Mother won’t have it relit until the culmination of our first week of guests.”

She nodded but couldn’t seem to move.

“May I escort you through my mother’s very own Vauxhall?” His tone made it clear he thought his mother’s creation somewhat tedious, even as he offered his arm.

Did the man not appreciate the beauty and joy in life? That concerning thought loosened her tongue. “This is far more beautiful than Vauxhall. The detail and placement of every light has been carefully thought out. Do you not see the splendor of this creation?” She finally looked at him and wished she hadn’t. The soft lighting made him seem far less stiff and much kinder than perhaps he was.

“If you take my arm, I will be happy to reply.”

Very much wanting to know his thoughts, she laid her hand on his arm and allowed him to walk her forward, but she would not be thwarted. “Now, as to your appreciation or lack thereof.”

“I can understand your wonderment. However, having seen this sight since a child, the wonder has faded. It is simply lanterns in a garden to me.”

“So do you look at a sunrise or sunset in the same way? If you see Timon of Athens performed for the third time at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, is it then just another evening about Town?”

He stiffened slightly beneath her hand but otherwise gave no other indication that he was insulted by her words. “I’m afraid that is the case.” He paused, but she sensed there was more. “Once I saw life as you do, a new daily adventure of discovery and joy. But I am jaded, older than my years, as my mother complains. The entertainments that so many of my peers find enjoyable are simply a way to spend time for me.”

The sting of tears hit her eyes, and she blinked them back. He could not be more than a handful of years older than she. Surely, it was not because he was a man. Even Lord Sommerset, his contemporary, appreciated the nuances of life.

“Dory, could you make sure all twelve lanterns are in the tree over the bench?” At Rose’s request, Dory reluctantly released the earl and stepped up onto the low bench.

He set his hand under her arm to steady her, though she was quite well balanced, despite her unskilled display of the waltz. Quickly, she counted the lights. Turning back toward the court, she caught sight of Rose heading into the next one. “There are exactly a dozen.”

When Rose didn’t reply, Dory looked to Lord Harewood, who was almost as tall as she standing on the bench, which made her feel much more equal. “So a new dish or aria does nothing to engender happiness for you?”

“No. However, that does not mean I am not pleased to go through the paces of life. My heart simply does not beat faster for anything in particular. I suppose that means it will last much longer.” Though he chuckled, there was something in the sound that seemed sad to her.

Suddenly, she remembered what Rose told her about Lord Harewood betting on Lord Sommerset marrying a Mabry. “Do you not feel joy when a bet you set down comes to fruition despite everyone else betting against you?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “My Lady Dorothea, I’m shocked you would mention such an activity.” Though the words were to be expected, the amusement in his eyes was not.

Understanding that he teased her once again as he did his friends, the Earl and Countess of Sommerset, had her cheeks heating, not in embarrassment, but in pleasure. “No more shocked than I was to learn you participated in such. Do tell me. Does winning when no one else sees what you foresee cause your heart to beat faster?”

He grinned, and in the light, it made him appear far more handsome and approachable. “It would seem you have found me out, though to be honest, I had not thought on it before.”

That he could find joy in something, even if it was betting, relieved her. It was as if that small presence of humanity meant there could be more buried beneath the surface. “I wonder if perhaps it is the uncertainty.”

“No, I am quite certain when I place a bet on what will occur. That cannot be it.”

She searched among her knowledge of philosophy. The three ancient ones—Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates—had much to say on happiness, but even as she thought through what she knew, she could not find what she sought. “Perhaps, then, it is the satisfaction of being correct despite, shall we say, the odds. To go against the norm and be considered odd or worse, unacceptable, only to later be revered as brilliant, must indeed engender a feeling of happiness. Perhaps it is a feeling of happiness with oneself, or it could be a happiness of intellect in knowing what others do not know and cannot see.” A small part of her recognized she followed another squiggly line, but it was far too intriguing to stop. “That does bring up the question of whether an intellectual happiness is possible and of equal value to an emotional happiness. As much as we like to believe that as human beings, we can think without emotion, that is far from the truth and some think with emotion far more than they think without it. So, then, is there such a possibility as an intellectual happiness?”

His eyes twinkled with evident amusement as he listened intently.

She wanted to stop but couldn’t. “On the other hand, it could well be that the intellect is fully engaged, which brings about that satisfaction or emotional happiness. In that instance, it would be a happiness that is triggered by the intellect and—” Without thought, she grabbed his head and pressed her lips to his to stop her own dialogue.

His closed lips were firm yet soft, and she licked at them.

He sucked in a breath, and she thrust her tongue past his parted lips. Immediately, her thoughts flew away and her blood pounded in her ears. His hands found her waist as he stepped closer, his tongue now tangling with hers and causing a million faeries to flit throughout her body, making her far warmer than usual. A desire to draw closer had her taking a step, except she found no purchase.

As she fell forward, she was lifted to the ground and his mouth left hers.

She looked up at him, startled, her ideas flying back into a neat line in her head. “…manifested in emotion.”

His brows drew down, but his lips curved upward as he stared at her in puzzlement and amusement. “My Lady Dorothea, I do feel somewhat put upon.”

“I apologize, my lord. Did you not like the kiss?”

His lips flattened, all sense of humor disappearing. “Why would you ask that? Because I feel put upon? Or is there another reason?”

His mother was right—he did answer a question with multiple questions. “I ask because it seemed to me, novice that I am, that you enjoyed the kiss as much as I. Therefore, I do not understand why you would feel put upon.” The warm, fuzzy feeling she had begun to feel in her belly had cooled considerably at his attitude.

“Ladies do not go about kissing men. As a lady and student of Belinda’s school, you must know that you could tarnish its reputation with such behavior.”

Indignation rifled through her that he had that very afternoon kissed her with little thought to the consequences, yet when she kissed him in relative darkness, it was suddenly of the utmost insult to propriety? How dare he presume—oh. She felt her cheeks flame anew. He must know of her mother.

Shame washed over her. Unable to bear it, she lifted her skirts and strode into the next court, catching sight of Rose before her vision blurred. Had she accomplished what even her mother hadn’t been able to? Had she tarnished her own reputation? Taking a deep breath, she moved closer to the fountain of Neptune that rose at the center of the gathering area.

Rose, examining the hedge at the back, noticed her. “Could you make sure all the lanterns about the fountain are working properly? Mother is very particular.”

“Of course.” She managed to speak with no catch in her voice and forced herself to look at each and every lantern, from those below the stone basin to the ones suspended above it from a tree. It was quite ingenious, and if she hadn’t just kissed a man and ruined herself, she would further investigate. Unfortunately, her thoughts were firmly placed on the damage she’d perpetrated upon herself.

As she came back around to where she started, she halted as Lord Harewood stood with arms folded, watching her. Ignoring him was her only option, so she continued past, determined to examine the lights above the archway that led to the next court.

“Lady Dorothea.”

Blast, he could not mean to continue their conversation. But to continue to walk away was far too rude, so she halted. Lifting her chin, she turned around. “Yes, Lord Harewood.”

“I believe you were discussing the satisfaction of the intellect causing the emotion referred to as happiness.”

She blinked. Happiness? By the beard of Zeus, he did mean to continue! Well aware that Rose was within hearing distance, she folded her own arms. “I was unaware that you were familiar with such an emotion. If I remember, you did say that happiness was not part of your life.”

Rose sucked in her breath audibly, but the earl simply raised his brows. “And so I did. How good of you to remember.”

The last was said with such sardonic intent that Dory barely kept herself from marching over to him and slapping his face. “I assure you, my lord, that my memory is quite remarkable and my intellect equal to your own.”

A soft giggle came from Rose, who now bent over by a bench doing who knew what.

The earl dropped his arms and took two steps toward her before stopping. In the shadow cast by the limited lighting, it was now more difficult to see his face. “And I can assure you that my state of happiness, unhappiness, anger, or pique are all quite in harmony.”

“As I can hardly attest to that, I will accept your word on that subject. My curiosity about it was merely to pass the time.”

He opened his mouth to answer her obvious insult when she heard rustling behind her. She turned in time to find Lady Enderly bearing down on them.

“Felton!” The lady strode into the court, glanced over the area quickly, then turned on Dory. “What are you doing alone out here with my son?”

Surprised by the accusation and not a little guilty for kissing that very man just moments earlier, she took a step back.

“Mother.”

Lady Enderly turned on her son. “Why must I keep saving you from scheming women?”

Her heart stopped in her chest. She tried to breathe, but the shock of such an insult caught her off guard.

“You don’t.” Lord Harewood’s voice remained calm, but with an edge as sharp as honed steal to it, and there was a slight tick beneath his right ear. “As similar to the last time, you are wrong in your assumptions.”

Realizing there was more to the current event than what she knew, Dory took a deep breath at last and lifted her skirts, anxious to leave.

“No, Lady Dorothea. Please stay a moment.” Though he said it kindly, she could sense his anger just beneath the surface. “I feel it only fitting that you witness my mother’s embarrassment.”

Lady Enderly pulled air in through her teeth. “ My embarrassment? Felton, you—”

“He means me, Mother.” Rose stood from her crouched position. “The three of us were inspecting your creation, as you requested. Dory, did you find any lantern lights amiss on the fountain?”

She quickly answered. “All were lit, but the one from above was weaker than the rest. I wasn’t certain if that was purposeful or not.” She wanted nothing more than to be away from the situation.

Rose walked toward her with a smile. “I believe my mother can decide that. Since we have finished our inspection, let’s go inside. I know Cook made baked apple pudding and I’m quite smitten with autumn apples.”

As Rose took her hand and pulled her along, Dory glanced backward once to see that Lady Enderly and Lord Harewood both stood frozen in place. Despite the warm, summer night air, she felt chilled by the whole episode and shivered.

Rose leaned in. “You won’t want to know what is said. They can go on and on. When I was little, I’d hide in the kitchen. They will both be in a sour mood all day tomorrow.”

She nodded as if she understood, but she didn’t. She was particularly confused by what his mother had said. “Has your brother been caught alone with a lady before?”

“Yes. Well, no. Actually, it was all my fault.” Rose let go of her hand as they stepped through the French doors of the library. She stopped to make sure no one was about. “We don’t talk about it, probably because Mother doesn’t wish me to feel horrible, but I still do.”

This time, Dory took Rose’s hand and pulled her to the closest piece of furniture, which happened to be a chair behind a large desk. “Sit. You must tell me. Maybe it wasn’t as horrible as you imagine it.”

Rose slumped into the chair. “Oh, it was. You see, I felt bad for Lady Garmoyle, who had recently lost her husband. She was quite nice to me, so I invited her to spend the holidays.”

“That doesn’t sound horrible. That was very kind of you.”

“Yes, but as it happened, she didn’t want to spend the holidays with me. She just wanted to have access to my brother and Lord Sommerset to seek her revenge.”

Now, that was much more concerning. Not having anywhere to sit, she leveraged herself up on the desk to listen. “What was the revenge for? Did she succeed?”

“Almost.” Rose looked toward the fireplace that was across the room. “I wasn’t quite sure how she’d been insulted, but from what I gathered, she’d tried to trap Lord Sommerset into marriage by luring him into the garden alone. But since neither he nor my brother trusted her, my brother secretly strolled through the garden with the lady’s mother. When Lady Garmoyle tried to claim Lord Sommerset had taken liberties, Felton and the lady’s mother were witnesses to the lack of such actions. So despite having later married someone else, she was still angry that she’d been foiled.”

Why a person would go to such lengths for revenge after being married and widowed was far beyond her comprehension. “So based on what your mother stated, the widow thought she was alone with your brother?”

Rose’s head snapped around to look at her. “Oh, no. It was much worse. She thought she had succeeded in maneuvering my brother to be alone in this very library with Lady Sommerset! Of course, she was Lady Ameila last year and would have been forced to marry my brother.”

Knowing a bit about both the lady and Lord Harewood, Dory’s belly tightened into a ball no faerie could puncture. Did Lord Sommerset call his good friend out? “Please, tell me quickly. What happened?”

Rose gave her a questioning look before she continued. “As it happened, unbeknownst to Lady Garmoyle, Lady Sommerset’s father had secreted himself away in the library and was sitting in that chair right there.” Rose pointed to one of two wingback chairs that faced the fireplace so their backs were toward the doorway to the corridor.

That the earl had indeed not been forced to lose his only friend for even a short while was reassuring. “I imagine your brother was quite relieved.”

Rose shrugged. “He had not been worried, as he’d noticed Lord Wakefield immediately because Lady Amelia had been talking to her father when my brother had entered. I was the one who felt horrible. Yet, as Lady Garmoyle protested, I still believed her. I fear I was so desperate to have a friend who liked my company that I did not question her motives.”

“I quite enjoy your company, as you are so easy to converse with and have such a warm spirit.” Dory laid her hand over her heart. “And I promise you, Rose, I have no such motive of revenge against your brother.”

Rose’s lips twitched. “Well, at least one of us doesn’t.”

Surprised, she widened her eyes. “What has he done to you?”

Rose sat up in the chair, her grin quite real. “What hasn’t he? He’s teased me my whole life. He wins every debate because he is far too smart and I can’t keep up.” Her smile turned to a smirk and she wiggled her brow. “I have managed my own revenge over the years. Once I discovered that the unexpected unbalanced him, I have done everything from spilled gravy on his clothes to put thorns beneath his sheets.”

“You didn’t.” She was quite shocked. She’d never had such a relationship with her older brother. “What did he do?”

A soft look came into Rose’s eyes. “Nothing. Oh, he grumbled to me and swore retribution, but he never followed through. And when our mother asked how his face got scratched or why his pantaloons were wet, he made an excuse, never revealing the truth.”

Dory’s heart warmed at the obvious implication. He loved and protected his sister. There was a kind and sweet person somewhere beneath the Earl of Harewood’s boring and stiff exterior, which made her even more curious as to why he had such a hard shell. He was like a macaron that was hard on the outside and soft in the middle. She did so enjoy those. Which reminded her of Rose’s suggestion. “Did you not say that your cook made baked apple pudding today?”

Rose jumped from the chair, her good humor restored. “I did, and we must have some. I like to have cocoa with mine.”

“I’ve never had cocoa with them. I usually have tea.”

Rose headed for the library doors. “Well, do be quick. I’ll have Haggett send everything to your room and we can enjoy them without the rest of my family.”

She hopped down from the desk and strode out after Rose, but she had already disappeared. Quickly ascending the stairs, Dory found her thoughts straying back to Lord Harewood. His fury had been palpable, but it hadn’t been directed at her and for that, she was thankful. Though he’d been irritated with her, his feelings toward his mother were difficult to explain, but if she were the marchioness, she’d duck and run because the image of Lord Harewood that came to her mind was that of a well-loaded cannon.