Chapter Two

"I 'd like a colored sash on this presentation gown," Harry declared firmly.

"Out of the question," her mother said flatly. "White shows off your dark hair and green eyes to perfection. I don't hear Beatrix complaining about having to wear white."

"I know that white is flattering, but it's the principle I object to. It is unheard of to be presented to the queen in anything but pristine white, and that is precisely my point."

"I won't relent on this decision, Harry. Victoria's court has rigid rules. If you don't conform, it will reflect on your parents."

"The queen might censure you , but Father can do no wrong in Victoria's eyes," Harry teased.

"It would reflect badly on you too. Your virtue could be whispered about."

"How ridiculous that wearing white declares one's virtue. You're usually quite lenient about letting me make my own decisions."

"Too lenient!" Trixy declared.

"When was I too lenient?" the duchess demanded.

"When you caught her gambling with the Irish stableboys."

"I was grateful that gambling was the only thing she was doing with them," the duchess said dryly.

The modiste, who was doing the final fitting of the Hamilton girls' presentation gowns, looked shocked. Their mother quickly changed the subject. "You needn't wear the same gowns to your ball. If you are willing to risk your reputation, I'm sure Madam Martine will be only too happy to satisfy your craving for color."

"I have some lovely pastel blue organza, Lady Harriet."

"How bloody insipid!" Harry bit her lip when she saw the stunned expression on the modiste's face. "Oh, I'm so sorry, madam. Please forgive me. I have a dreadful habit of speaking my mind."

"Blue organza sounds very pretty to me, madam," Trixy declared. "My sister is nineteen, going on twenty , and has the taste of an older woman."

"That was unkind. You know that Harry's debut was postponed because my dearest mother passed away." Georgina, Duchess of Bed-ford, had died the previous spring.

"Trixy's barb about my age completely missed the mark. At nineteen, I am a woman, while she and Jane are still girls."

"There's more to being a woman than turning nineteen, darling," her mother stated.

"I assume you are speaking of virginity, or lack thereof," Harry declared. "That's another unfair burden that makes the sexes unequal!"

Madam Martine almost swallowed the pins she held in her mouth.

"Come down from your soapbox, Harry." The duchess helped her daughter from the stool she was standing on. "I'm sure Madam isn't up to a lecture on women's rights . Just tell her what color you would like for your ball gown."

"Pale green with an emerald sash," Harry said without hesitation.

Her mother laughed. "You are Irish down to your fingertips. I'm sure your father will be delighted at your choice."

"Uncle Johnny! I'm so happy you will be attending our presentation to the queen this afternoon. Without you, it would likely be dull and depressing as a London fog!"

Lord John laughed. "You flatter me, Harry. But what makes you think it'll be dull?"

"Well, let's face it. A score of debutantes dressed in identical white, chaste as the driven snow, attending Victoria's Drawing Room, isn't exactly a bacchanalia."

"And what do you know of bacchanalia?" he teased.

"Nothing yet, but I'm hopeful my Season will rectify that."

"I wish I were being presented today," Jane said wistfully.

Johnny kissed her cheek. "Your time will come, Jane. And you won't have to share the spotlight with your sisters."

"But I like sharing things with Harry and Trixy. They make everything exciting."

The Duchess of Abercorn rolled her eyes. "Only an innocent could think one of Victoria's Drawing Rooms exciting." She picked up her fan. "I assume we are using your carriage, John. Pray lead the way."

"I love this Grand Staircase at Buckingham Palace." Lady Beatrix gazed at the royal portraits that had been built into the walls.

"I much prefer Windsor Castle." Lady Harriet's crinoline swayed precariously as she ascended the marble steps. "Its ancient walls are steeped in history."

The Hamiltons joined the other debutantes who were being presented at today's Drawing Room and Harry marveled at the excited twittering of the young ladies. Since her father was Prince Albert's groom of the stole, and she was a frequent visitor, she did not hold the royal family in awe as the other debutantes did. As she looked about, she decided that Trixy's white gown flattered her dark coloring, but the fair-haired girls looked washed-out. The females were all shapes and sizes, from scrawny to lumpy.

Harry spied her friend Lady Emily Curzon-Howe, who had lovely chestnut-colored hair. "I think it tiresome that we must all wear white."

Emily whispered behind her fan, "White flatters you and me, but Lady Augusta Seymour looks like an unmade bed."

"That's rather cruel, but I was thinking the exact same thing," Harry murmured.

When the chamberlain opened the door to the throne room, everyone filed in and waited politely for their turn to be acknowledged by the queen.

Harry sighed with relief when her father arrived. She gave him a radiant smile, and the Duke of Abercorn bent and kissed her brow, then kissed Beatrix. James Hamilton was a loving father who doted on his daughters.

Abercorn murmured his thanks to his brother-in-law Lord John for accompanying his ladies to Buckingham Palace. He then watched proudly as his eldest daughter walked down the throne room and made her curtsy before the queen.

"Lady Harriet, we are delighted to welcome you to our Drawing Room. Your gown is lovely. The Duchess of Abercorn's fashion sense is incomparable."

"Thank you, Your Gracious Majesty." Her Season had begun at long last.

When all the debutantes had been presented, everyone was free to mingle and partake of the refreshments. Harry joined her family. "The queen complimented my gown and Mother's fashion sense."

"Victoria's manners are always perfect," her father declared. "She's after your mother for her Mistress of the Robes ."

The duchess rolled her eyes and gave a delicate shudder.

James laughed before turning to his daughters. "Are you ready for your ball?"

"Yes. Harry and I can't wait. Are you coming home tonight, Father?"

"I am, my dear." James spoke to his wife. "I'm tired of sleeping alone, aren't you?"

Louisa gave him a sideways look. "What makes you think I'm sleeping alone?"

Harry smiled at their banter. Mother holds him in the palm of her hand. They act like lovers. That's the kind of relationship I want.

James Hamilton greeted Richard Curzon-Howe, who had been lord chamberlain to the late Queen Adelaide. He stood with his daughter Emily, from his first marriage. Abercorn was always amazed that the aging earl had been able to attract such a young second wife.

Lady Abercorn greeted Lady Curzon-Howe and felt a twinge of compassion for the young Irish beauty. The ladies had coordinated the dates of their debutante balls.

Lady Emily drew close to Harry and whispered in her ear, "I want you to formally introduce me to your brother."

"Are you sure? He's only sixteen," Harry informed her.

"What the devil does that matter? He's extremely handsome and someday he'll be a duke of the realm."

Harry approached her brother, with Emily in tow. "James, I'd like you to meet Lady Emily. She'll be at our ball tomorrow night." Harry winked. "Seems she's attracted to younger men."

Emily smiled. "It runs in the family. My father wed a lady not much older than I."

James took her hand to his lips. "How fortuitous. I'm raving mad about older women. I shall claim the first dance tomorrow night."

Harry said dryly, "A match made in heaven. I shall give you some privacy."

She joined her mother, who was in conversation with Lord John.

"May I rely upon you to bring our sister Rachel to the ball? If everyone sees she is held in high esteem by her family, it will put an end to the scandalous gossip about her." When Rachel was born, the rumors were rife that the famous artist Edwin Landseer had fathered her. The speculation had begun again when Georgina, Duchess of Bedford, passed away.

"Poor Rachel was absolutely devastated when she heard the rumor. But I believe the fact that she still resides at Campden Hill with the family's blessing has done much to quell the gossip," John assured her. Lord John and his wife, Fanny, lived next door to Campden Hill in Kensington, at Holland House. Lady Holland had left it to him in her will, perhaps because Johnny had been like a son to her, or more likely because she detested her own daughter-in-law.

"Rachel is such delightful company," Harry declared. "Will you please invite her to stay with us for a few days after the ball?"

"Of course. Rachel has such a happy disposition. John, tell her to bring enough clothes for a fortnight. 'Tis a pity that she is still unwed. It always falls to the last daughter left at home to look after the mother, and Rachel dutifully dedicated herself to Mother the last few years. I'll try my hand at matchmaking while she's in London."

Harry saw that Prince Albert was making a beeline toward her mother. Lady Lu attracted admirers from grooms to princes. Harry knew that where Albert went, Victoria followed, so she took Johnny's arm and led him toward the refreshment table. "There's something I want to ask you. I believe Thomas Anson is a member of Parliament. What can you tell me about him?"

"Thomas is the member for Lichfield, Staffordshire. His father, the Earl of Lichfield, was also a politician until his health gave out. Like me, Thomas is a Whig."

"Surely you can tell me more than that."

Johnny eyed her with speculation. "Well, let's see. He's dark, handsome, thirtyish, unwed, an art expert. He'll inherit his father's earldom, but no fortune, I'm afraid."

"He'll inherit Shugborough Hall."

Johnny hid his glee. He knew of Harriet's passion for houses. "Viscount Anson is a very serious, no-nonsense sort of man. He doesn't suffer fools gladly. I warrant he's far too sober and straitlaced for you, Harry."

Indeed! Thomas Anson is direct, assertive, and utterly self-assured. He delivers his reprimands in a clipped tone. "I invited him to my ball, in spite of the fact that he thoroughly disapproves of me, and makes no bones about it."

"I thought D'Arcy Lambton was at the top of your list of suitors."

"Oh, he is. Absolutely! The Earl of Durham owns Lambton Castle."

"Have you ever seen the castle?"

"No, but I've seen it in paintings. It was designed in the style of a Norman stronghold. I can't wait to visit it."

"It's built on the site of a more ancient castle known for its legendary dragon. You must ask D'Arcy about it."

"How fascinating! I love legends. Ireland is steeped in them. I shall ask him about the dragon tomorrow night at the ball."

The following day, the Hamilton ladies greeted John's wife, Fanny, and Lady Rachel. They arrived in the afternoon with ample time to dress for the ball.

"I'm so glad you'll be staying with us for a while, Rachel. I'm dying to hear what you are planning to write in your next book." Harry picked up Rachel's hatbox and they headed up the stairs to the guest wing.

"Why don't you share the guest chamber with me? I need some good ideas, and two heads are decidedly better than one."

"That's a splendid idea." Harry had always been proud that her aunt penned romance novels, and was thrilled at the prospect of contributing to her next book. "We can also help each other dress for the ball. I hope your gown is ravishing. Mother has invited every eligible bachelor in London."

"Harry, need I remind you that I am a twenty-eight-year-old spinster?"

"Rubbish! You are a fascinating woman of the world and a redhead to boot. You simply have to marry, Rachel. An unwed woman has no more rights than a child. Once we are married, we can join the Married Women's Property Committee. They are doing their utmost to change the law so we can own property in our own right." Harry laughed. "First things first. We are going to have great fun, starting tonight."

"You are a marvelous dancer, Father." Lady Harriet, partnered by the Duke of Abercorn, opened the ball, while her sister Beatrix danced with their uncle Lord John Russell. "I chose to wear green for Ireland, even though it flaunts convention."

James smiled down at his daughter. "I'm surprised you didn't insist on the ancestral Abercorn crimson."

"Mother has dibs on that color, though I must admit she looks glorious in it."

"I predict that you and Beatrix will steal her thunder tonight, and she wouldn't want it any other way. I see she let you wear her emerald and diamond earrings."

"Yes, she's the most generous mother in the world."

"I predict it won't be long before you have your own jewels."

"By that, I take it you mean I will soon have a husband."

"I warrant there are at least a half dozen suitors here tonight, eager to steal you away from me."

"I'm looking for someone exactly like you, Father." She gazed up at him with genuine love and admiration.

"Oh, if your standards are that high, I shall be stuck with you forever," he teased.

"You're full of blarney. Go and dance with Trixy."

The Earl of Durham claimed the second dance with Lady Harriet.

"Have you been waiting for me, D'Arcy?" Harry's eyes sparkled with happiness.

"Longer than you think. I've been awaiting your debut for more than a year."

"I must think of a suitable reward for your patience," she teased.

"Your beauty is radiant tonight. Promise you'll let me escort you to supper later?"

"Only if you'll tell me about the Lambton dragon."

His blue eyes danced with laughter. "Legend has it that when he was a boy, my early ancestor John Lambton went fishing in the River Wear and caught an eel, which he promptly threw down the well. Years later, when he returned from the Crusades, he found the surrounding villages desecrated by a dragon that emerged from the well. It ate all the livestock and even snatched away small children. The villagers couldn't kill it because whenever they hacked off a piece of the dragon, it grew back."

"Whatever did Crusader John do?"

"He consulted with a wise witch, who advised him to cover his armor with spearheads, but she warned that once the dragon was dead, he would have to kill the first living thing he encountered, or his family would be cursed for nine generations and wouldn't die in their beds."

"A dragon and a witch. How fascinating!"

"When the dragon wrapped itself around him, it was mortally wounded by the spearheads. As he hacked off the pieces, they were washed away in the River Wear.

"After he killed it, his dog ran out to greet him."

Harry caught her breath. "Oh, no, he didn't?"

"No, he didn't have the heart to kill his dog, so for nine generations the Lambtons were cursed."

"Which generation are you?"

"I'm at least the twelfth, I believe."

Harry smiled. "So there is every likelihood that you will die decently in your bed."

He bent close to whisper, "Or indecently."

Her smile widened. "If you're lucky!"

The Duchess of Abercorn stared at a dark male who had just arrived. She had no idea who he was and turned to her brother. "Johnny, who's that swarthy gentleman? I'm sure I didn't invite him."

"That's Thomas Anson. Harry invited him. He's the member for Lichfield."

"Good Lord! His father is the reprobate Earl of Lichfield. How does Harriet know him? I hope he isn't following in his father's footsteps."

"Thomas is the antithesis of his father. Viscount Anson is extremely principled. He was supportive when I was PM and I consider him a friend." John signaled and Thomas made his way across the ballroom.

Once the men exchanged greetings, Anson bowed before the duchess, who smiled and offered him her hand. He took it to his lips. "Your Grace, may I have the honor of this dance?"

"It would be my pleasure, Lord Anson." As they moved onto the floor, she examined his features. He's as tall as my husband, but much darker. I wonder if the rumors about his mother are true. Barbara Philips's father was a prosperous West Indian planter and because of his daughter's black hair and dusky complexion, it was hinted that she could be half-caste.

He is treating me with great formality. His features are stern because he doesn't smile. He looks at least thirty. . . . I wonder why he isn't married. Lady Lu smiled up at Anson. "Are you a confirmed bachelor, my lord?"

Thomas hid his amusement. "I have nothing against marriage, Your Grace. I simply cannot afford the luxury of a wife. Every penny I earn goes toward buying back Shugborough's treasures and antiquities that were auctioned a decade ago."

"What a noble endeavor. I salute you, my lord."

"Noble perhaps, but the task I have set myself is gargantuan."

Gargantuan indeed. We bought Shugborough's entire library, along with paintings and furniture, and have no intention of selling them back to you. "Is your father well?"

Anson stiffened. "The earl's health is indifferent. He has been bedridden for more than a year."

"I'm so sorry. It must be a sore trial for your mother." It's a wonder she hasn't poisoned the bastard by now. She was a great heiress when they wed, and Lichfield went through her fortune like a dose of salts. "Lord John tells me you are a member of the House. How do you fare with the new coalition government? 'Tis a hodgepodge of Peelites, Tories, Radicals, and Irish members."

"I must confess that as a Whig, I fared better under your brother's prime ministership."

"Then let us hope our present prime minister's term is a short one."

Anson's brows drew together. "Isn't Prime Minister Aberdeen your father-in-law, Your Grace?"

"Absolutely not! The Earl of Aberdeen is my husband's stepfather . The man is persona non grata in an Abercorn residence."

"Forgive me," he said gravely.

"Nothing to forgive, my lord. I'm sure you understand the inevitable clashes that ensue when opposite personalities are forced to live under one roof."

"Indeed I do, Your Grace."

Lady Lu spotted her sister Rachel and decided to introduce her to the viscount. Though he vowed he wasn't looking for a wife, the right female might convince him otherwise.

"Lord Anson . . . Thomas, may I present my favorite sister, Rachel?"

He bowed politely. "May I partner you in the next dance, my lady?"

The duchess wasn't the only one considering matchmaking. Harry was being partnered by an Irish friend of her father's, Lord James Butler, whose older brother was the Marquis of Ormonde. "Captain Butler, I'm so pleased you are in London and could attend our ball."

"I have retired from the Seventh Foot, Lady Harriet, though everyone still calls me Captain. I'm in London to petition Queen Victoria to approve fairs in Kilkenny."

"That shouldn't prove difficult. Father will persuade the prince; then Albert will persuade Victoria. Tell me, Lord Butler, do you like redheads?"

"Being Irish, I must admit that I find red hair extremely attractive."

She glanced around the ballroom searching for Rachel. Her brows drew together slightly when she saw her being partnered by Thomas Anson. They were laughing together and Harry felt a stab of envy. She maneuvered her steps until they were next to the other couple. "Since I believe in equal rights for women, I'd like to cut in."

Rachel laughed at the audacity of her niece, and smoothly moved toward Lord Butler, who welcomed her with open arms.

Thomas Anson gave Harry a frown of disapproval. After a moment's hesitation, he did the polite thing and they began to dance.

"Have no fear. I've no great desire to dance with you, my lord. I simply wanted Lord Butler to partner Rachel."

"I thought you were collecting suitors."

"Oh, I am. But the captain is about forty—much too old for me, and he's a second son to boot."

"You have no shame."

She laughed up at him. "I am guilty of serial misbehavior."

He gazed down at her through narrowed eyes, assessing her. "You are deliberately hurling yourself against my principles. And enjoying yourself immensely."

Harry's mouth went dry. My God, the dark devil is shrewd. He knows exactly what I'm up to. The music stopped. "Thank you for the dance. Will you excuse me?"

"For now. Go forth and gather your suitors."

"I have so many," she teased. "There's William Montagu, Earl of Dalkeith. He is heir to—"

"Yes, I know. Heir to the dukedom of Buccleuch."

"And coming this way with purpose is Henry, heir to the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe."

"That would be robbing the cradle. Or doesn't age matter, so long as he—"

"So long as he was born with a silver spoon up his bum?" she finished outrageously. Harry, you're trying to goad him into laying his hands on you.

A male voice interrupted her exciting thoughts. "May I have this dance?"

She turned to find D'Arcy Lambton at her elbow. "Why, if it isn't the Earl of Durham," she declared, and threw Anson a triumphant smile.

. . .

Abercorn swept his wife into his arms. "I thought I'd better steal a dance, before the handsome Lord Anson claims you again."

Lu was surprised. "How do you know him?"

"Palace business. He is an associate of Whitfield Cox, the fine-art dealer. I recently procured a painting through him for Prince Albert."

"When I asked him if he was a confirmed bachelor, he told me he couldn't afford a wife because he was restoring Shugborough's treasures. If he hopes we'll sell back the paintings we bought from Lichfield, he'll be sadly disappointed."

"I saw you introduce him to Rachel. Tell the truth and shame the devil—you cannot resist matchmaking." His arm tightened and he stole a kiss.

When Harry was dancing with Henry Edgcumbe, she realized that though he was a couple of years older than she was, because of Lord Anson's remark about robbing the cradle, Henry suddenly seemed exceedingly immature. I think he would make a perfect suitor for Beatrix. After all, Edgcumbe will become an earl. Harry smiled sweetly and began to extol her sister's virtues.

William Montagu, Earl of Dalkeith, claimed the next dance. He was the member of Parliament for Midlothian, Scotland, and a Tory like Abercorn.

"Will, even though you were educated at Cambridge, I can detect a delightful burr in your voice," Harry told him. Her eyes shone as she thought about Dalkeith Palace in Scotland, which his family owned. Someday he will inherit his father's dukedom of Buccleuch. "Will, I think Montagu House in Whitehall is the most magnificent mansion in London."

"If I persuade my mother to give an entertainment, will you promise to attend?"

Harry gave him a radiant smile. "I would love it above all things.

Oh, I didn't realize this was a cotillion. What a pity we have to change partners."

Leicester Curzon-Howe, Emily's older brother, smiled down at her. "I thought I'd never get a chance to dance with you."

Harry returned his smile. Leicester is about twenty-five, but alas, he has two older brothers before him in line to inherit his father's earldom. They got only halfway around the ballroom when the music again stopped so everyone could change partners.

"Lady Harriet." Lord Anson gave a brief bow and offered back her words from earlier. "Have no fear; I have no great desire to dance with you."

"For a man who scrupulously adheres to priggish Victorian values, you have a wicked sense of humor."

"You do amuse me," he admitted. "I cannot wait to see what outrageous thing you'll do or say next. With that in mind, would you allow me to escort you to supper?"

"I'm afraid I've promised that honor to D'Arcy." Harry gave him a teasing glance. "Perhaps I can fulfill some other desire?"

Thomas gave her a speculative look. "How about showing me your library?"

I'll be damned. . . . Does he want to see the books that used to belong to his family? Or does the dark devil want to get me alone? "Follow me, and you shall see, an elephant's nest up a rhubarb tree." She took his hand and led him from the ballroom.

The library was in another wing on the same floor. When they arrived, they found Harry's brother James sitting in a brass-mounted armchair with Lady Emily Curzon-Howe curled in his lap. The pair jumped up guiltily and hurried from the room.

Harry dropped Thomas's hand. "Speaking of robbing the cradle! Lady Emily is obviously following in her father's footsteps."

If Thomas was amused at her remark, he didn't show it. Harry watched him closely as he examined the myriad rows of books. His thick black curls were so tempting, she had an urge to touch them. His stern demeanor, however, seemed to forbid such intimacy.

His glance traveled over the volumes, taking inventory. "Some of these once belonged to my family. But I thought your father bought the whole library."

"He did," she confirmed. "Some of them are at Bentley Priory in Stanmore, quite a few volumes are at Campden Hill, Kensington, and the rest are in my father's library at Barons Court in Ireland."

Thomas Anson lifted his hand to touch a book directly behind Harry; then their eyes met. "So, in spite of being in favor of women's rights, you have made up your mind to marry this year?"

"Indeed I have. When I marry, my very first act will be to join the Married Women's Property Committee."

His dark eyes filled with amusement. "Your very first act?"

The corners of her mouth went up. "Well . . . perhaps my second."

His acquisitive fingers moved from the books and hung suspended in the air.

The electricity between them was palpable. His animal magnetism was irresistible to Harry. She caught her breath as his fingers began to trail across her cheek. She moved against him in invitation. Harry felt his muscular arm sweep about her and when his mouth took possession of hers, she opened her lips. She gave in to temptation and threaded her fingers into his dark curls. The fragrance of jasmine and honeysuckle filled her senses. Is it Thomas Anson that is sending these shivers of excitement through me? Or is it the thought of Shugborough?