Chapter Twelve

H arry glanced out the window and saw that they were in London. She opened her reticule and thrust in her hand, searching for the key D'Arcy had given her. When her fingers closed about it, she hammered on the carriage roof, just behind where Riley was perched. She felt the carriage slow and pull to the side of the street.

Riley jumped down and opened the carriage door. "What is it, Lady Harriet?"

"Before you take me home, I'd like you to stop at Carlton House Terrace."

Riley bit his lip. He knew very well she was going to D'Arcy Lambton's residence, but he was also under the impression that in the very near future she would be the Countess of Durham. "I'll have ye there in a trice, my lady."

As the carriage climbed Constitution Hill, Harry's mouth went dry with apprehension. "It's only fair that I tell D'Arcy right away. It is thoughtless and cruel to keep him dangling," she said aloud. Her inner voice mocked her. Tell the truth and shame the devil. You just want to get it over with, Harry Hamilton!

Lady Harriet ascended the front steps, inserted her key, and unlocked the front door.

She anticipated Fenton's long, disapproving face. I'll tell him I have to speak to D'Arcy about a personal matter and ask him to make sure we are not interrupted.

As she crossed the entrance hall and reached the stairs, Fenton did not make an appearance. I wonder if it's his day off? It seems strange that none of the servants are about. Harry entered the drawing room and found it empty. She went down the hall to the library, but the book-lined room, with its large desk, was also empty.

Oh dear, D'Arcy must be out. My timing is dreadful. I feel like an intruder. As she withdrew from the library, she thought she could hear the murmur of a man's voice. She turned her head to listen, but when all that followed was silence, she thought she must have been mistaken.

The sound of a woman's laughter broke the quiet. It was so unexpected that Harry couldn't believe her ears. D'Arcy is entertaining a female. Who the devil can it be, and where are they?

The next time the laugh came, it trailed off into a giggle, and Harry followed the sound. Though she had never been in the wing that held the bedchambers, she knew where they were located from the tour he had given her on the night of his dinner party at Carlton House Terrace.

Harry paused outside a bedchamber and when she heard movement inside, accompanied by murmuring, she opened the door.

Her jaw dropped as she saw D'Arcy Lambton with a female in his arms. Both were stark naked. "Trixy!"

Harry's sister shrieked and burst into tears.

D'Arcy dropped Trixy onto the rumpled bed and grabbed his robe. "Harry, I can explain."

Harriet ignored him and focused on Beatrix. "Get dressed immediately." She turned and left the room. Her emotions were in turmoil, her thoughts were in disarray, and her pride lay in shards all about her.

D'Arcy hurried after her.

Harry's blazing anger forced her to quickly gather her thoughts.

When she reached the drawing room, she held up her hand to silence him, and pierced him with a stare that pinned him to the spot. "You rapacious swine!" Harry was so furious she was panting. "How long has this been going on? My God, Trixy could be with child!" She took a deep, steadying breath. "Tonight, D'Arcy Lambton, you will present yourself to my father and ask him for the hand of his daughter Beatrix. You must insist that you do not wish to wait."

"Harry, please—"

Harry held up her hand to silence him. She raised her chin and issued her ultimatum. "Two weeks. If you are not married at the end of two weeks' time, I will personally see that you never, ever become the lord lieutenant of Durham."

They stared each other down, but it was not Harry who looked away first. She handed him his key. "I have no further use for this."

Beatrix, trembling, pale, and a little defiant, appeared at the drawing room archway.

Harriet said quietly, "Come. The carriage is outside."

The sisters descended the staircase and departed the house in silence. Once they were inside the carriage, Beatrix whispered, "I'm sorry I hurt you, Harry, but I'm madly in love with D'Arcy."

"You haven't hurt me, Trixy. I came to tell D'Arcy that I didn't want to marry him."

Harry saw a look of pity come into her sister's eyes, and she knew that Trixy didn't believe her. She thinks I'm trying to save face. Harry thought about what her family's reaction would be when D'Arcy Lambton made an offer for her sister. Hellfire, they will all look at me with pity. Her instincts told her that she must not repudiate D'Arcy. She knew that what had happened today must remain a secret. I love Trixy. I don't want her to think that the only reason she got him was because I rejected him.

The Duchess of Abercorn put her finger to her lips as she closed the bedroom door. Not until she undressed and got into bed beside her husband did she murmur, "I was rendered speechless tonight, which is a rare event for me."

"Lu, I have a confession to make. When young Lambton arrived after dinner and asked to speak with me privately, I dreaded him asking for Harriet's hand. When he asked my permission to marry Beatrix, a great weight was lifted off my chest. Harry is far too sensitive and tenderhearted to be wed to a happy-go-lucky, callous young devil like Lambton. On the other hand, Trixy and D'Arcy seem an excellent match."

"Well, I'm extremely thankful that one of my daughters will become the Countess of Durham. But Harriet must be absolutely devastated."

James slid his arms about his wife and drew her against him. "I'm not so sure, darling. I don't believe for a moment that she lost her heart to him. As a matter of fact, I think she feels contempt that he doesn't do more for the working poor in his county."

"If you are right, then it is infinitely better that they don't marry. A wife should be able to revere her husband, and take great pride in him, not hold him in contempt."

James raised her chin with his fingers and looked into her eyes. "Do you revere me, Lady Lu?"

"At the risk of swelling your head, along with other prominent body parts, I must confess that I do." She licked her lips. "Will you reward me with a sugared mouse?"

"I will reward you with anything your heart desires."

She reached out to fondle his erection. "Damn you, Abercorn, you know I cannot resist such blatant temptation."

Harriet decided to ease the awkward situation by removing herself to the guest wing to sleep in the bedchamber she had shared with Rachel. Her emotions were in turmoil, and more than anything, she needed to be alone to think things through.

All her preconceived notions of D'Arcy Lambton being in love with her had been shattered into a million pieces. The lecherous swine betrayed me! The lump in her throat almost choked her. Don't cry. Don't you dare cry, Harry Hamilton!

Finding D'Arcy and Trixy in flagrante delicto had shocked her to the core. What she had witnessed today not only wiped away her trust in men; it had given her self-confidence a grievous blow. For the first time in her life, she felt unattractive, unloved, and unsure of herself. Lying alone in the darkness, Harry felt so vulnerable that her eyes flooded with tears.

Anger with herself was the only thing that saved her from sobbing her heart out. She dashed away her tears with impatient hands. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You've been saved from a loveless marriage.

She threw back the covers, slipped out of bed, and crossed to the window. She stared into the darkness with unseeing eyes and vowed that no man would ever deceive or make a fool of her again. In the future, I will never consider marrying any man unless he gives me absolute proof that he loves me, and I am sure that I love him in return.

"I absolutely love my gown." Beatrix smiled at Madam Martine as she tirelessly pinned up the hem on the white satin wedding dress that measured ten full yards.

Harry sent up a fervent prayer of thanks that it was not she who would be wearing the nuptial monstrosity.

Their mother swept into the room. "That's a relief. St. George's Church is confirmed for the first Tuesday in August. The church has been reserved every day of the month, but since our wedding will be small, they can accommodate us in the afternoon."

"Isn't it amazing?" Trixy took off her veil and handed it to Jane. "Everything the tarot cards predicted has come true! It said I would get my wish in a three, and it will be just over three weeks from that night to my wedding day!"

"It's magical," Jane said with a heartfelt sigh. To spare Lady Harriet's sensibilities, it had been decided that her sister Jane would be Beatrix's maid of honor, and the seventeen-year-old was swept up in the romance of it all.

Harry thought of the tarot cards she had drawn that night. The Fool told me I had a choice in life, and that trial and error would bring wisdom. A picture of the Hanged Man came into her mind. It was right too. I was not tied—I could free myself at any time. It warned that to achieve my desired goals, I must change the direction of my life. There seems to be a profound truth connected with the tarot cards.

"People are bound to gossip, so be prepared," the duchess warned her girls. "For one thing, the engagement will be scandalously short, and traditionally, it is the eldest daughter who is supposed to wed first."

"Mother, you are the one who has taught us that we set fashion; we don't follow it," Harry said dryly.

On the last day of July, Parliament recessed for the month of August. Thomas Anson gathered his papers together. He was looking forward to spending time in Staffordshire, touching base with his constituents. The gardens at Shugborough would be blazing with color and he couldn't wait to spend time at the estate that meant so much to him.

As Thomas was leaving the House, he saw William Montagu and stopped to bid him good-bye. "I suppose you'll be going to Midlothian during the recess. Scotland should be lovely at this time of year."

"Yes, but I won't be able to leave until after D'Arcy's wedding. He has asked me to be his best man."

"Lambton is getting married?" Thomas felt his heart plummet to his feet.

"Surely he told you? Still, it's all been such a rush."

Red-hot fury almost blinded him. Thomas felt as if the walls were closing in on him, and suffocation was imminent. "I'm sorry, Will. I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'm off to Staffordshire tomorrow. Good-bye. I shall see you in September."

That son of a bitch beat me to the mark! Thomas cursed himself. I knew damn well he'd ask her. But I thought she'd turn him down! He strode along Whitehall, oblivious to the other pedestrians who crowded the busy thoroughfare. Don't be an idiot, Anson. What young lady of fashion would turn down an offer to marry an earl of the realm? Especially an earl with an obscene fortune to lavish upon her.

"Mother, will you be all right if I leave for Shugborough in the morning?"

"Of course. I will be perfectly fine. You mustn't worry about me, Thomas. Your constituents will welcome you with open arms. And so they should, with the perquisites for Lichfield you manage to garner in Parliament."

"That's why they elected me. I'm just doing my job. I'll take the two paintings I procured recently and hang them back where they rightfully belong."

Barbara Anson laid down her fork and looked at her son. "Fowler was here again today. The narrow-eyed wretch turns up every week like clockwork. He visits more often than the doctor."

Thomas tried for a light tone. "Devious plotting with his attorney is one of the few things that brings Father pleasure. Try not to let it upset you." I will make sure the depraved swine never hurts you again. "While I'm away, you must let Norton attend to his needs. If you allow it, Father will run you ragged with his inconsiderate demands." That's the other thing that provides him with perverse pleasure.

The servant, who came into the dining room to clear the table, brought a message that the earl wished to see his son. Thomas had expected it. After a visit from Martin Fowler, he was always summoned.

Thomas had a heavy heart, and he climbed the stairs slowly, well aware that this encounter would do nothing to lighten his spirit. He entered the chamber, crossed to the bed, and looked unflinchingly into his father's pouched eyes.

"By any remote chance, are you in pursuit of the heiress we spoke of?" His words were labored and Thomas could hear wheezing inside his chest.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Father."

The old man smirked. "You are waiting for me to die." Speaking brought on a coughing spell, and Thomas poured him a glass of water. But when he proffered it, the bedridden man knocked it from his son's hand. "When that day arrives, you think your troubles will be over, but you are wrong, you arrogant young swine."

My mother's troubles will sure as hell be over.

"Fowler was here today. Let's see how the laws of primogeniture help you when my signed affidavit is read with my Last Will and Testament."

The maggots are already eating your brain.

"It swears that you are illegitimate."

Thomas recoiled. "You are insane! That is a deliberate lie. How can you bring such shame to Mother?"

"You, and you alone, can prevent the shame. As promised, if you take a wealthy wife before I die, Fowler has orders to burn the affidavit."

Thomas felt his gut knot. He clenched his fists to prevent his hands from choking the life from the monster. "If you declare me a bastard, who, pray, will be your legitimate heir?"

Lichfield sneered. "My firstborn child, your sister Anne Frederica. She's the only one I'm sure I fathered. Her husband, Lord Elcho, has plenty of wealth to lavish on Shugborough."

For the first time since he was a boy, the cold finger of fear touched his heart.

The thought of losing Shugborough was unendurable to him. Thomas closed his eyes and gathered his strength. No power on earth will wrest Shugborough from my hands. I hereby vow to keep it in my possession, or die trying.

"Thank you for inviting me to ride with you, Father." Harry was truly grateful for the opportunity to be alone for a private conversation.

"I anticipated that Hyde Park would be practically deserted on the first day of August." The bond between Abercorn and his firstborn child was special. "You did the right thing, Harry, deciding not to marry D'Arcy Lambton."

"Yes, I know." She threw him a grateful smile. "It finally dawned on me that I didn't love him. Now, of course, I realize that he didn't love me either. That was rather hard to swallow. But in truth, I've had a miraculous escape from a loveless marriage."

"I sensed that you were not totally devastated over his asking Beatrix to become his wife, but I know that something is bothering you."

"Oh, Father, you are so perceptive. It is my conscience. It's playing merry hell with me. I feel like I have shirked my duty toward the hardworking people of Durham. My heart is heavy over their plight, and I could have done so much good if I had become the Countess of Durham."

"I recommended Lambton for the lord lieutenancy, and before Prince Albert and Victoria left for Balmoral, he told me that the queen had agreed."

Harry reined in and came to a halt. "Oh, Father, you did that for my sake!"

"I did, but thinking about it, I warrant Lambton's appointment can be a good thing. It could spur him to take on some responsibility. He has no father or grandfather to guide him, so as his father-in-law, I thought I might take on the role."

"That's a splendid idea. If you can badger him into bettering the lives of the poor people of Durham, my conscience won't prick me so relentlessly."

"Working for a royal prince has taught me to be a diplomat. Badgering gets you nowhere. On the other hand, a charm offensive usually brings about the desired results."

Abercorn winked at his daughter. "It is a good thing that D'Arcy doesn't know of his appointment yet. I shall take ruthless advantage of the fact."

"Just as a formality, Your Grace, I suppose I should read this marriage contract before I sign it." D'Arcy Lambton took the legal paper from Abercorn's desk and sat down in the brass-mounted armchair.

James Hamilton could not help contrasting D'Arcy's casual attitude with his own when he had negotiated the marriage contract with the Duke of Bedford before he wed his daughter Lady Louisa. Abercorn had used the services of his wily attorneys from both Ireland and Scotland. And before he signed the legal document, he had negotiated a dowry that was more than double what had been offered.

"I have no need of Lady Beatrix's dowry, Your Grace."

"Your generosity is commendable, my dear fellow. Since you don't need the money, may I suggest that you put it in trust for Beatrix? That's what I did when I married her mother."

"That's an excellent suggestion."

"Good. I'll just add that clause to the contract to clarify it."

D'Arcy was about to hand the document back when Abercorn shook his head. "Read the second page. It is of paramount importance."

D'Arcy turned to the second page and read: If I predecease my wife, she will receive a lump sum of ten thousand pounds, and five thousand each year thereafter from my estate in Durham.

"I don't like to contemplate my demise, but I understand that if anything befell me, my widow would need to be provided for."

"It is a relief to see that you have a good grasp of legal matters. If the contract is acceptable, I'll summon my secretary to witness both our signatures."

When the document was signed and sealed, Abercorn poured two glasses of Scotch whisky and handed one to his future son-in-law.

"Congratulations, my dear fellow. By the way, I have decided to recommend you for the appointment of lord lieutenant of Durham."

D'Arcy's face lit up. "Your Grace, how may I thank you?"

"I have every confidence that you will surpass your illustrious father in his many achievements."

"To be truthful, I barely remember my father. When I was seven, he became ambassador to Russia, and after that, he was appointed governor-general of Canada. I lived with my grandfather Lord Earl Grey."

"Your father was the member of Parliament representing Durham for sixteen years, long before he was sent overseas. He was nicknamed ‘Radical Jack' because of his good work helping his constituents. The working-class people loved him. He did so much for Durham—that was the reason the Crown rewarded him with an earldom."

"Thank you for telling me, Your Grace. I had no idea."

"Your father was a man of the people, in spite of his great possessions. He helped my wife's brother Lord John to write and pass the Reform Bill. He was ever sympathetic to the Irish people, and a champion of the downtrodden. Everyone admired the first Earl of Durham, but I have confidence that the second Earl of Durham will achieve even greater admiration. It won't be easy to stand up to the greedy colliery owners who put profits before safety and the miners' welfare, but once you are appointed lord lieutenant, you will have the power and authority of the Crown behind you."

"You have given me much food for thought, Your Grace. I am most grateful that you recommended me to Prince Albert. If I am fortunate enough to be appointed lord lieutenant of Durham, I will strive to make you proud of me."

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God and this congregation to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony." The reverend's voice echoed about the high-vaulted ceiling of St. George's Church.

The large stained-glass windows that rose above the altar mesmerized Harry. The August sunshine coming through the glass made the colors brilliant. Her glance traveled from the hand-clasped bride and groom to her mother and father, who were standing beside their daughter. I hope Trixy has as long and happy a marriage as our parents. Harry doubted that it would be, but here in the sight of God, she hoped her prayer would be answered.

When her glance passed over D'Arcy Lambton, she felt no pang of regret. For a moment she stared at her sister Jane. She is gazing at Will Montagu with her heart in her eyes. She looks absolutely lovesick.

Harry's eyes moved to Will Montagu, and she wondered why D'Arcy hadn't asked Thomas Anson to be his groomsman. It's been three weeks since I've seen him. Harry's thoughts flew back to her mother's birthday party. Why the devil didn't I think of falling into the lake at Campden Hill? Harry fantasized about being carried from the water in Anson's strong arms, and suddenly regret filled her heart.

Stop it, Harry. She glanced at Rachel, who was standing beside her. I must say something irreverent to banish my self-pity. She leaned close to Rachel and whispered, "Did you know that so many Mayfair debutantes have been married in this church, it's known as the London Temple of Hymen?"

Rachel had to cover her mouth to conceal her laughter.

When the newlyweds emerged from St. George's, the family followed them outside into Hanover Square, where they threw rice at the bride and groom. Almost immediately, it attracted strutting pigeons.

"Watch out for pigeon shyte!" Harry cried gaily.

Everyone laughed with the exception of Lady Montagu, who was clearly horrified.

D'Arcy helped Trixy into his phaeton for the ride to Hampden House, where the bridal supper would be held. The new Countess of Durham's wedding gown was so voluminous, there was room for no one else in the carriage.

Abercorn helped his wife and Jane into the family carriage. "Rachel, Harry, there's room for you two. Riley can come back for James and me."

"Rachel and I have decided to walk. It's such a lovely afternoon." The two young ladies linked arms and set off along Brook Street.

"Charlotte Montagu looked down her nose as if she smelled something putrid."

"It must have been pigeon shyte!" The two females roared with laughter.

Rachel sobered. "Was that difficult for you, Harry?"

"Not in the least. I feel like a condemned prisoner who has just been reprieved. And here's the best part. While Trixy is honeymooning at Lambton Castle, we are going to Ireland. Barons Court, here we come!"

"I'm so looking forward to it, Harry. Lord Butler returned home only two days ago, and already I am pining for him."

"Well, if absence makes the captain's heart grow fonder, I predict an Irish wedding." Harry slanted her a wicked glance. "Or you could simply jump over the brush !"

The Hampden House ballroom was decorated with elegant vases filled with fragrant roses, lilies, spiky asters, and delicate meadowsweet. A long table had been placed at the center of the chamber for the adults, and a smaller round table had been set up for the younger Hamilton children and their nursemaids.

Separate buffet tables laden with food, desserts, and wine were set against the walls, and two liveried footmen were assigned to circulate, carrying silver trays holding glasses of champagne, the moment the wedding party arrived.

Harriet and Rachel were the last to arrive. The younger children, who hadn't been at the church, were dancing about the bride, eager to touch her voluminous wedding dress and floor-length lace veil.

While Harry conversed with Johnny and his wife, Fanny, she kept an eye on D'Arcy and Will Montagu. It wasn't long before they withdrew into the small antechamber that was being used as a cloakroom. She gave them a few minutes before she followed them.

"Ah, just the gentlemen I wanted to see." Harry looked from the groom to the best man and back again. "Allow me to welcome you to the family, D'Arcy. I warrant you will make an excellent brother, and I believe I will make a better sister than wife."

D'Arcy looked immensely relieved. Though it would take time to erase the awkwardness between them, Harry's friendly words helped to put them at ease. But if the young Earl of Durham thought he was going to get away scot-free, he was mistaken.

Harry glanced at Will Montagu. "D'Arcy lost the wager. Did he pay you yet?"

Montagu had the decency to flush. "Wager?"

"The one you both registered in White's betting book."

"I just gave him a bank draft," D'Arcy said stiffly.

Harry held out her hand. "May I see it, Will?"

Montagu, shamefaced, took the Bank of England draft from his pocket, and placed it on her open palm.

"Since what the pair of you did was unconscionable , I shall relieve you of your shame by using this two hundred guineas to start a fund that will benefit the widows and orphans of Durham."

"Harry . . . I don't—," D'Arcy began.

"Oh, I know. . . . You don't know how to thank me. I'm sure you wish you'd thought of it yourself. Never mind, D'Arcy; you'll be able to contribute on a regular basis." Harry tucked the bank draft into her décolletage. "Come, gentlemen, this calls for champagne."