Chapter Three

"W hat time is it?" Harry sat up in bed and stretched her arms over her head.

"You don't have to get up," Beatrix told her. "I wanted to tell you that Henry Edgcumbe kissed me last night!"

In the other bed, Rachel opened her eyes and yawned. "The ball didn't end until four this morning. Why is everyone awake?"

"Trixy cannot wait any longer to confide her secrets," Harry explained.

"D'Arcy escorted you to supper. Did he kiss you?" Beatrix asked breathlessly.

"As a matter of fact he did . . . more than once," Harry confessed. "I've accepted his invitation for a carriage ride in the park this afternoon."

"Oh, Harry! D'Arcy is courting you." Beatrix sounded positively envious.

"Well, he claims he's already waited a year." Harry spoke to Rachel. "How about you? Any secrets to confide?"

Rachel smiled. "I must admit I found Captain Butler very attentive."

"He told me he was mad about redheads." That's only a slight exaggeration.

"He told me when he is in London, he rides in Rotten Row at six every morning."

"Rachel, tomorrow we must rise early. Since Hyde Park is just across the road, we can easily be there by six. He wouldn't have told you he rides there unless he was hoping you would join him." I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Anson rides early. No afternoon carriages for the dark centaur.

"I wouldn't want James to think I was chasing him," Rachel protested.

" James , is it?" Harry teased. "Does he know you write romance books?"

"I shall save that shock for when we know each other better."

"Did D'Arcy really kiss you more than once?" Trixy asked wistfully.

Harry thought of Thomas Anson. "Sometimes, once is enough."

Trixy sighed. "With D'Arcy, I suppose that's true. What will you wear for your carriage ride?" She couldn't keep the envy from her voice.

Harry knew that Trixy was longing for a serious courtship. "Good heavens, that's hours away. I shall think about it after lunch."

A young housemaid brought Harriet and Rachel breakfast trays.

"Thank you so much, Rose. When I've eaten, I'll come down to the kitchen and help you pack a basket for your family. There will be so much food left over from the ball, there won't be enough shelves in the larder to hold it all."

"That's so generous, Lady Harriet. My mum will be ever so grateful. My little sisters call you ‘the Angel.' "

"How refreshing. My own sisters often call me ‘the Devil.' "

"That's a thoughtful thing to do, Harry," Rachel said when the maid left. "Is her family very poor?"

"Yes, they have so many children. But the Fergusons are very clean.

They don't live in a slum. They live on Broad Street in Soho. Mother passes along the clothes that we have outgrown. Rose visits her family every Saturday, and we make sure she doesn't go empty-handed."

Over toast and eggs, Harry and Rachel exchanged ideas for a book.

"I'd like to write about real people, but there's always the risk that they'd recognize themselves, and that could land me in hot water," Rachel said.

"Then why don't you write about people from an earlier generation? Your mother, Georgina, and my grandmother, once told me the most romantic tale I'd ever heard. I suppose she learned the story from Charles James Fox, who was a friend of hers."

"Ah yes, didn't Fox eventually marry his mistress, Elizabeth Armistead? And wasn't she Prinny's mistress before Fox fell in love with her?"

"So gossip has it, but I'm speaking of Fox's grandmother Sarah Cadogan. She was married to his grandfather, the future Duke of Richmond, when she was only thirteen and he was eighteen. The marriage was arranged to settle a gambling debt between their fathers. The pair disliked each other on sight. After the wedding Sarah was packed off to school and Charles was rushed off to the Continent on an extended grand tour."

"Imagine being forced to marry in order to settle a gambling debt!" Rachel declared with indignation. "The Fox family was always cursed by an addiction to gaming."

Harry continued. "Three years later, on his first night back, to avoid a meeting with his loathed wife, he went to the opera. In a box opposite was a most beautiful lady—he fell in love with her at first sight. Imagine his surprise when he learned that she was his wife! He decided to woo her properly, and he was successful. Their marriage was so happy that they kissed and cuddled in public. They ended up with twelve children."

"Oh, that is such a romantic story. I shall incorporate it in my next book. Thank you for providing me with such a splendid plot, Harry."

When Lady Harriet stepped up into D'Arcy Lambton's phaeton, she was wearing primrose yellow with a matching parasol. She had contemplated pairing her outfit with a vivid black and white one, but decided it would draw too many eyes. Since she wanted the parasol only to hide behind when D'Arcy kissed her, the yellow was preferable.

"You always look lovely, Harry, but today you seem to be bathed in sunshine."

"That's exactly how I feel on this glorious day."

Hyde Park was busy. Not only was half of fashionable London riding in carriages, but throngs of ladies and gentlemen were strolling along the paths, hoping to see and be seen.

The Earl of Durham drove once around the park, greeting friends and acquaintances and allowing Lady Harriet to do the same. She caught a glimpse of her brother James riding with Lady Emily, before D'Arcy took a left turn and drove across the Serpentine Bridge into Kensington Gardens. He found a secluded path where the sunshine filtered through the leafy shade trees, and reined in his horses.

D'Arcy took Harry's hand and squeezed it. "At last, I have you all to myself."

She glanced right and left mischievously. "Are you sure no one is hiding in the bushes?"

He slowly stripped off her glove and took her bare fingers to his lips.

"We certainly want no witnesses to such wanton behavior," Harry teased.

"I'll give you wanton behavior." D'Arcy's arms swept about her and drew her close.

Harry shielded them with her parasol and then reached out to brush her fingertips along his blond mustache. She held her breath when he captured her lips in a stolen kiss.

When he withdrew his mouth, she gazed at him for a full minute. Her parasol cast him in a golden glow and she thought him almost beautiful, in an angelic sort of way. "You have inherited your grandfather's handsome looks. My grandmother always extolled Earl Grey's attractiveness. I warrant she was half in love with him."

"And could you follow in the incomparable Georgina's footsteps?"

"I believe I could be half in love without much persuasion," she teased.

He pulled her closer and demanded fiercely, "What good is half in love?"

"Surely half in love is better than not being in love at all? You're an earl of the realm with a castle. If you woo me in earnest, I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

D'Arcy kissed her again and Harry closed her eyes, enjoying the intimacy of his heated embrace to the full. When his hand reached for her breast, she pulled away. "Don't be greedy," she murmured. "If that's what you're after, it will take a little more wooing."

"I'm sorry, love. You drive me mad, and I've waited so long."

"School yourself to patience. 'Tis said that anticipation is half the pleasure."

"There you go with your halves again." He smiled ruefully. "I've decided to host a dinner party next week. The invitation will include all members of your family, of course. I'll invite some bachelors for your sisters as well."

"How lovely. Too bad there won't be dancing, since it's a perfectly legitimate way of holding me in your arms. Still, I shall look forward to your giving me a private tour of your grand residence on Carlton House Terrace." Harry pulled on her glove, indicating that their tête-à-tête in the carriage was over.

"Did you enjoy your afternoon drive, darling?" The duchess joined her family in the dining room for the evening meal. She made no bones about the fact that she thoroughly approved of a match between Harriet and the Earl of Durham.

"It was everything I hoped it would be," Harry said with a smile.

"Last night it came as a surprise that you had invited Thomas Anson. I had no idea that Lichfield's son was a friend of yours."

"He's D'Arcy's friend, not mine. I believe they were at Oxford together. He introduced Lord Anson to me at the opening of the Crystal Palace."

"Are you aware that his father is a debauched gambler who was disgraced by a financial collapse brought about by gargantuan gaming debts?"

"Completely aware, Mother. Lord Anson is the antithesis of Lichfield. I believe he is overly stern and moral, with an impeccable character, to make up for his father's reputation." He's also extremely good-looking, with black curly hair and pewter eyes that sometimes glitter silver.

"It's something that is never spoken of in polite society, but Lichfield's wife is the daughter of a wealthy sugar planter in the West Indies, and it's whispered that she could have native blood."

"But only whispered in impolite society, I take it," Harry teased. That would certainly explain the devil's swarthiness.

Rachel laughed. "Well, thanks very much, Lu, for trying to palm him off on me last night."

"I did no such thing," the duchess protested.

"Of course you did," Harry contradicted her mother. "But I came to the rescue and took him off Rachel's hands immediately by switching partners so she could meet the dashing Lord James Butler."

"Rachel . . . you are blushing!" her sister said with delight.

"Oh please, say it isn't so. There is nothing so unbecoming in a redhead. Screamy-colored hair is bad enough without having screamy-colored cheeks to match."

"I have it on good authority that Lord Butler adores red hair," Harry declared.

Lady Beatrix interrupted. "William Montagu, Earl of Dalkeith, danced with me more than once last night."

Jane, who had been quietly captivated by the conversation, said, "Oh, I think William Montagu is divine . His Scots burr sends shivers up my spine."

"Thank heavens our brother James is dining out with Father tonight. He'd never let you live that one down," Harry told her. "He'd follow you around teasing you about kilts, sporrans, and haggis until you ran from the room screaming."

"Thank heavens he's still at an age where teasing his sisters amuses him. All too soon he'll think himself so grown-up, he'll avoid you like the plague."

"Before I forget, may Rachel borrow your mount, Mother? We'd like to go riding in the park tomorrow." Harry didn't divulge it would be at the crack of dawn.

"It isn't even light yet," Rachel said. "Are you sure we should do this?"

"Absolutely sure. Fortune favors the bold. It will give you a chance to be alone with Lord Butler. I shall make myself scarce as soon as you meet," Harry assured her.

"You are very generous."

"On the contrary, I'm quite selfish. I have an ulterior motive. A certain male acquaintance of mine might just be in the park at such an ungodly hour."

When the pair arrived at the row, dawn was breaking. Galloping horses thundered by them, mounted by gentlemen intent upon their morning exercises. It wasn't long before a man drew rein beside them and tipped his hat.

"Lady Rachel . . . Lady Harriet . . . what a pleasant surprise," James Butler declared. "Would you care to join me, ladies?"

"I think my horse picked up a stone. You two go ahead and I shall catch up with you," Harry urged. She winked at Butler to let him know it was a ruse.

She watched them gallop off, side by side, then proceeded with a slow canter. She examined each of the male riders who passed, and smiled serenely when they tipped their hats. It was a quarter of an hour before the horseman she'd hoped for reined in beside her.

Lord Anson did not tip his hat. "Surely you're not riding here alone at this hour?" he demanded.

"I would love to tell you that I am, simply to ignite your outrage, but alas, such is not the case. I came with my aunt Rachel. By coincidence, we encountered an admirer of hers, so I'm giving them a little privacy."

"Their meeting was accidentally on purpose, no doubt."

"As was ours, perhaps."

Pewter eyes looked into green. "I don't ride here often. Rotten Row is too tame for me. I like to ride farther afield."

"I enjoy a good gallop myself," she hinted.

"Would you care to join me tomorrow on a ride to Richmond?"

"I thought you'd never ask. Can we ride alongside the river?"

He nodded his assent. "Meet me at Cumberland Gate—same time." This time he did tip his hat, and galloped off on his black hunter.

Harry watched him. If I narrow my eyes, man and horse merge into one. She thought over their encounter. He totally disapproves of me, yet he wouldn't have made the assignation if I didn't intrigue him. She smiled her secret smile.

"You were right, Harry. Riding in the row this morning was a brilliant suggestion."

Rachel hung her habit in the wardrobe, and donned a day dress.

The corners of Harry's mouth turned up. "The idea came to me in a vision."

Rachel sat down at the writing desk. "I want to jot down your romantic suggestions for my next book. I'm still shocked at the idea of anyone having to marry to settle gambling debts. I don't know much about gaming—I suppose I should do some research."

"Oh, I'll teach you how to gamble and wager. It's great fun," Harry assured her.

"Charles James Fox ran his own gaming hell. In Regency times, it was not considered decadent. It was all open and aboveboard. Even Almack's had a gaming room upstairs."

"Since Victoria came to the throne, the middle class is hell-bent on reforming public morality. At all costs we must be protected from the Seduction of Gambling."

They heard someone whistling a merry tune. "It's James. I'll ask him to bring us some cards." Harry went to the door and hailed her brother. "Bring us some playing cards, and some dice if you have them."

In a few minutes, James returned with both. "If there's any betting, let me in on it."

"I'm going to teach Rachel how to play cards and wager. It's too bad there are no gaming hells anymore. We need to do research for a book, and White's has always prohibited females."

"White's is dull as ditchwater these days. It's just a political club," James remarked. "There are, however, private hells." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "All exclusive and hush-hush of course."

Harry's eyes widened. "You devil, you've been holding out on me! You haven't actually visited one, have you, James?"

He riffled the cards in his hand. "As a matter of fact—"

"Oh, you have !" Harry cried. "Who took you to such a place? Where is it? You must take Rachel and me."

"I went with John Montagu, William's younger brother. It's at a house right here in Mayfair, and no , I won't take you."

" Where in Mayfair? And unless you want Father to know what you've been up to, you assuredly will take us."

James threw his sister a look of desperation. He regretted opening his mouth. "It's a private establishment, known as Hazard House. If I take you, you'll both have to disguise yourselves with masks. If anyone learned I'd taken my sister to such a place, I'd be blackballed from polite society."

Harry's eyes sparkled. "I'll wear a mask and something theatrical and everyone will assume I'm your mistress! Oh, even better, I'll get a red wig and Rachel and I can be twin demimondes. Only think what that will do to blacken your reputation!"

"That would bring us unwanted attention. It would be better to wear something inconspicuous," Rachel suggested. "In any case, I must first learn how to play."

"Very well. We'll put it off until next week, and in the meantime, I'll teach you everything you need to know."

Harry arose at five and donned her new emerald green riding habit.

Rachel roused and asked sleepily, "Wherever are you going?"

"It's far better that you don't know. That way you can give a truthful answer if anyone asks." Harry opened the door quietly and tiptoed from the room.

In the stable, Harry told Riley she would saddle Amber. His look told her he was wise to her shenanigans, but she was grateful he kept his warnings to himself.

When she reached the park, the first glimmer of light penetrated the darkness. Lord Anson and she arrived at the same time, which obscured the fact that she was eager.

"I admire promptness. I find it a rare trait in a female."

And I warrant you know many females. "I pride myself on my rare traits." She fell in beside him and they trotted through the park to the south exit.

"One of which, I assume, is riding about London at the crack of dawn."

"There's no traffic at this hour. It's infinitely safer." They trotted their mounts past Ranelagh Gardens on their way to the river.

"That depends upon whom you encounter," he said flatly.

A frisson of excitement spiraled through her. "You needn't warn me that you can be dangerous. I've known that since the first time I laid eyes on you."

He turned his head to look at her. The first rays of sun revealed that Harry was not wearing black, but emerald green, a color that matched her eyes. "You look radiant."

That's a compliment. I shall return the favor. "And you look like a centaur astride your black hunter. What's his name?"

"Victorious."

"You didn't name him to honor the queen," she said flatly.

"You are quite perceptive . . . something I've known since the first time I laid eyes on you. I named him after a racehorse that won at Newmarket in the last century."

Her eyes widened in comprehension. " Victorious was one of the paintings you swiped from Shugborough!"

"I didn't swipe it. I saved it from the vultures."

Vultures like my family. "Do you still have it?"

"I do. In time, I intend to restore all Shugborough's treasures."

"That is so admirable." Harry hesitated, then confessed, "I fell in love with Shugborough that day."

In unison, they began to gallop. As they passed Syon House, she called out, "Did you ever see such a monstrosity in all your life? Its history is ancient, and its interiors are reputed to be magnificent, but the exterior is square, squat, and profoundly ugly."

As they galloped past the next mansion, Anson asked, "We won't pass it today, but have you ever seen Osterley Park?"

"Yes. Its white columns are graceful, but they are at serious odds with the red brick."

"A marriage made in hell," he jested.

A phrase that jumps to mind when you think of your parents. "What was it Horace Walpole said about its ornate drawing room?"

"He said it was worthy of Eve before the Fall."

Harry threw back her head and laughed. "He was such a witty sod!"

They galloped through Kew Gardens and followed the Thames as it curved down toward Richmond, and the pair slowed their pace to enjoy the lush view. "There's no one about. How would you like to ride hell for leather?"

"I saw you do it once." You looked like a centaur. She gave him a wistful glance. "I'd love to, but I don't want to hurt my palfrey."

"I'll take you up before me, unless you are afraid." He knew it would goad her into doing it.

"You're on! I'm afraid of neither man nor beast." She dismounted and tied her horse's reins to a tree. Then she strode to his side and raised her arms.

He lifted her before him, intending to let her ride sideways, but she put her legs astride, never heeding that the slit in her riding skirt tore open to accommodate her.

"Ready?" he whispered in her ear, as he pulled her body between his thighs.

"Ready!" she cried, and he dug in his heels.

They thundered through the park as if his hunter had been struck by lightning. He felt her hair stream backward, and brush against his cheek. She felt his cock pressing against her bum. The sensation of the wind rushing past her, and Anson's hard thighs gripping her, gave her a feeling of exhilaration she'd never experienced before.

As they galloped back to her mount, Thomas made the decision to stop at an inn so they could refresh themselves before they returned to London.

He drew rein. "I wouldn't dream of inviting you into an inn if they didn't have a lovely private garden at the back. I'm sure you are in need of sustenance."

"Can you hear my belly rolling?" she teased.

He dismounted in one fluid motion and held up his arms. She came down to him, ignoring her torn skirt and exposed legs. He set her feet to the ground, but his powerful hands held her against him for a long, drawn-out moment.

Thomas Anson is attracted to me. The wooing has begun!

A hostler took their horses, and side by side they walked around to the back of the inn. Thomas opened a gate and they entered a walled garden.

"Oh, it is delightful! I don't know how you found it, but it reminds you of the walled garden at Shugborough."

Thomas felt surprise. "You remember the garden?"

"Absolutely! Whenever I think of it, I smell jasmine and honeysuckle."

They sat at a rustic table and a mobcapped maid came to serve them. Thomas ordered a hearty breakfast of ham, sausage, eggs, lamb kidneys, and a jug of ale. That's hardly a meal for a lady. "What would you like?"

"I'll have the same and some fried bread." Harry rolled her eyes and licked her lips.

Thomas thought perhaps she was being facetious, but when the food came, Harry reached for the bread and tucked right in. He poured her a mug of ale, which she drank without hesitation. He almost smiled. "You have a strong man's appetite."

Harry wiped her mouth on her linen napkin. "And not just for food."

No, you have a hunger for excitement and an appetite for the finer things of life. I own something you desire—Shugborough. Your family owns something I desire. Thomas cautioned himself: She is an outrageous minx. It could be a match made in hell. He took her hand, pressed his lips to her wrist, and felt her pulse beating wildly.