But as he did once again, she lifted her wine glass in salute with a smile at him. His heart pounded in his chest. That was the most flirtatious look she’d ever given him. Louisa flirting with him? His imagination was playing tricks on his mind now.
THE NEXT MORNING, HARRY walked the length of the Serpentine and back, waiting for Louisa. It was nearly noon. She should have been here by now, unless she decided against meeting him. Thinking back on last evening, he realized that she hadn’t answered him when he told her to meet him. Then again, he hadn’t given her a chance. He’d moved away from her to prevent talk before she had the opportunity to reply. He’d assumed her nod was consent.
Or might she be avoiding him? There was the possibility that she found his list a bit rigid. But the next duchess needed to be perfect. After Sabita, he wanted no gossip regarding his next wife. He had to think of his daughter’s future.
The March wind whipped around him. Pulling his overcoat tighter around him, he glanced farther out into the park, hoping to find her.
Harry patted the pocket of his waistcoat, which held the names of five more gentlemen that should be suitable for her. Hopefully, her list would be well thought out with ladies who would accept his daughter and find him to be agreeable. Turning around for one last look, he spotted her, and the breath rushed from his lungs.
“Where have you been?” Louisa asked in a hushed but annoyed tone. “I’ve been here for over an hour looking for you.”
“I was here the entire time. Did I not say to meet near the Serpentine?”
“No, you did not.” She glanced back at her footman, who had accompanied her. “I don’t have much time now. I promised John we would leave by noon.”
“Shall we sit?” he asked, pointing to a small bench near the water.
“Heavens, no. We must keep walking to make it look as if we just came upon each other, not that we planned to meet here.”
Apparently, Louisa was only sensible about her reputation in town. He pulled out his paper with the names he’d discovered. “Very well, then. I did a little more investigation before creating this list.”
She grabbed it from his hand and scanned it. “Brentwood is a dimwitted fool.”
“I went to Eton with him, and he excelled.”
“No, you attended with James. He passed away when you were in India. His brother Nigel has the title now.”
Harry closed his eyes for a moment. Damn. Would he ever get this right? “You’re correct. Nigel is a dimwitted fool. Still, there is no need to get testy about it.”
“I am not testy! It is dreadfully cold.”
He stifled a smile. “Of course not,” he said in a condescending tone.
“Oh, do be quiet, Harry.” She perused his list again. “I suppose Deering might be acceptable.”
“You don’t sound certain.” They walked along the Serpentine a few more feet before she stopped.
“He is not the most....”
Attractive? How was he supposed to judge that?
“Well-mannered,” she finally continued. “I sat near Deering at one of Lady Huntley’s dinner parties. The man was speaking with his mouth full of food. I felt dreadful for poor Mrs. Montgomery. She sat next to him, and by the time dinner was finished, she had food spittle on her silk gown.”
He blinked in surprise. “Very well, then. Walker?”
“Absolutely not!” She shivered. “That man is horrid. He was dreadful toward my sister when she came out of her last mourning.”
Harry sighed. “Two more to scratch off your list, then.”
Louisa picked up a small stone and skipped it across the water without looking at him. “What do you think about Ainsley?”
“Have you completely lost your mind?” The thought of her marrying one of his closest friends was beyond the pale.
“Why not? I realize he was a bit rakish in his day.” Louisa paused as if trying to put him in a good light. She continued to walk along the lake as her footman trailed behind. “But surely he has matured by now.”
“Louisa, I have been friends with Ainsley since we were children. He was my worst influence.”
She shrugged. “Rumor has it that Ainsley is looking for a wife this Season because of the estate debts.” She looked up at him from under her lashes with a sensual smile. “He is an earl from an excellent family. He won’t mind my small dowry with the money he is to inherit from his uncle. And he is rather attractive.”
Harry’s hands tightened into fists. He would see her everywhere with Ainsley. A man who knew exactly how to make a woman think she was in love with him so that he could—
No!
Anyone but Ainsley. “No, Louisa. He is not the right man for you. God knows he won’t be faithful to you.”
She shrugged. “How many men are faithful?”
“Many.”
“Yes, and many times it’s the men Society least expects. The reformed rake, for one.”
“And you think you could reform Ainsley?”
She shrugged again with a secret little smile that nearly drove him insane. Did she not realize how much of a reprobate Ainsley could be?
“I do believe the earl is not as much of a scoundrel as people like to say.”
Harry stopped walking and closed his eyes, debating how much he could tell her without breaking a promise he’d made to his friend. “Louisa, please listen to me. I know things about him that no one else does. Things of which even he is not proud.”
She glanced to the ground as her cheeks flushed. “Just as there are things that no one knows about my family, including you, that would ruin us all.”
“What things?” He’d never heard of anything, except the business with his father and Tessa.
She gave him a delicate shrug before continuing to stroll. “Let us say, something that many members of the ton would love to learn about to ruin my family for good.”
He had no idea what she was speaking of, which made no sense. They’d told each other everything. “Since when have we kept secrets from each other, Louisa?”
She abruptly stopped and turned to glare at him. “Indeed? Let me think...leaving for India without telling me. Then there was getting married while in India. Let us see, what else...oh, yes, a daughter!”
The heat of embarrassment and anger at the reminder of his transgressions crossed his face. “That was different,” he said, knowing it was not.
She rolled her eyes. “I must take my leave now.”
“We have yet to discuss your list for me.”
Pulling out a paper from her reticule, she handed it to him. “I’m afraid I only have three names. Once the Season starts, I shall have a better idea of who is coming out this year.”
“A debutante? She will only be eighteen.”
“Is that a problem, Your Grace? Age was not a requirement on your list.”
“I will be thirty in a few months. Why would I want someone so young?” Harry looked down at her in confusion. “No, I need someone at least two and twenty.”
“You are the most exasperating man I have ever known,” she commented in an aggravated tone. “Review the list and let me know if you would like more information on them or an introduction.”
“As you wish.”
She walked away from him, but the hauntingly familiar scent of lilac remained in the air and seemed to wrap around his heart like a vise.
Chapter 10
LOUISA SPENT THE NEXT few weeks doing the exact opposite of what Emma suggested by avoiding Harry. If she didn’t meet with him, she could not give him more names of prospective brides. While he’d said he would attend Lady Leicester’s ball, she was positive if he had the chance, he would run back to Northwood Park.
He sent a message every few days asking if she would be attending some function so he could get an update on her search for his duchess. His letters had become increasingly terse. And every note reinforced the thought that he wanted to marry as quickly as possible to avoid the Season. With only a week until Lady
Leicester’s ball, Louisa had to evade him a little longer.
The Season would provide far more opportunities to test Emma’s theory that he was pushing her away out of guilt. It was much harder to flirt at a poetry reading or musicale than a ballroom with dancing and gardens for private tête-à-têtes.
While she’d been thankful for a cold, forcing her to miss several functions, another week in this house might drive her insane.
Walking to the window of the salon, she glanced down onto Chandler Street. A few carriages rumbled down the street dispatching callers but none to this house. The spring day seemed to call her to get out of the house and go for a walk. Her shoulders sagged. A stroll in the park meant the chance of seeing Harry, which would never do.
A tall figure of a man riding a chestnut horse ambled down the street. Reaching the Drake home, he reined in and looked up toward the salon window. Louisa gasped and moved away from the glass. Had he seen her? Davis had orders to tell Harry she was not at home if he happened to call.
Hearing the loud thump of the knocker, she was certain Harry would not be placated with lies today. The sound of male voices approaching caused her heart to leap.
“Your Grace!” Davis said in his sternest voice, “You cannot go up there.”
“I saw her standing at the window in the salon, Davis. She will see me today.”
The low, harsh tone of his voice sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine. Perhaps it was time to test Emma’s theory. She opened the door to the salon as he reached the last step. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”
“Miss Drake,” he said with a nod before looking back at Davis. “She appears to be at home, Davis.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Davis, do send some tea and biscuits in for the duke,” Louisa said before returning to the salon. “That was dreadfully rude to Davis, Harry.”
Harry followed her into the room but closed the door behind him. “Are you well, Louisa?”
“Perfectly now.” She sat on the floral chair near the window. “And you?”
“I am well,” he replied. “I have sent you several notes but have received no replies. I was worried—”
“That I wasn’t focusing on finding you a wife?” she interrupted with a brow deliberately arched.
“That you might be ill.”
“I did have a dreadful cold that kept me from a few functions.”
He tilted his head and looked over at her with a questioning look. “Well, it is good to see you are well enough to attend a musicale tonight. I hear many people have already arrived for the Season, so it might be quite a crush.”
“Oh, Mrs. Smyth’s musicale?” She cast him a dejected look. “I fear we were not invited. Even after two years, some people still wish to blame my sister and her family for what happened.”
“Indeed,” he replied, walking by the fireplace before taking a seat near her. His gray eyes sparkled with irritation as he stared at her. “I’m quite certain I can send word to Mrs. Smyth about the oversight.”
Of course, Mrs. Smyth would invite them all, including Tessa, if the Duke of Worthington requested. “Do not put yourself out on my account. Lady Leicester’s ball is in a week. Once the Season officially begins, I have plenty of time to find you a wife.”
“And you know I wished to return to Northwood Park before the Season.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps, but you have no choice now.”
He clenched his fists in apparent frustration. “Have you come up with any other names for me?”
Davis brought tea and biscuits in and placed the tray on the table in front of them. “Do you require anything else? A maid to chaperone perhaps?”
“No, Davis. His Grace is always a perfect gentleman.” She bent over to pour the tea as the butler walked out. “Now, I have a few names for you, but I would prefer to verify their status first. Miss Jane Bigby might be a good candidate, but I am not well acquainted with her.”
“At this point, I do not care. Just find me someone.” He reached for the tea she held out for him.
As he grabbed the tea, she brushed a finger over his. Focusing on him, she searched his eyes for some reaction but did not see any change. What did she expect? It wasn’t as if the brief contact would create such turmoil that he might drop his tea. She was a fool for listening to Emma. Her sister’s head was filled with fluff from the nonsense she read.
Perhaps she needed a more direct manner. She stood, knowing as a gentleman, he would do the same. Walking across the room, she said, “Why such haste, Harry? The lady will be your wife. Finding someone who meets your every requirement will take time.”
“You have had weeks, Louisa.”
“Yes, but the mourning has put a damper on entertainment. Many people even restricted their daily calls.” She stopped in front of him, staring at a brass button on his gray waistcoat. Remembering she was supposed to act flirtatious, she said, “I do believe you have a loose button.”
She placed her hand on his chest and twisted the button until it loosened.
Hearing him suck in a breath, she smiled. He grabbed her wrist and held her hand away from him. Staring up at him, she noticed the hardness of his gray eyes seemed gone, replaced by a look that would burn the hardiest of spinsters.
“I apologize, Your Grace. I thought you would prefer I tell you than to lose a button.”
He continued to look down at her and hold her wrist, unable to break the contact. For a long moment, they continued to stare at each other. She had a fleeting thought that he might try to kiss her. Oh, how she wanted him to kiss her. Her heart pounded in her chest.
Kiss me!
If she could only say the words aloud. But would Harry kiss her if she asked? Before she could find out, the sound of the front door opening broke them apart. Hearing her mother and sister’s voices coming closer, they said nothing but returned to their seats and the tea waiting for them.
Louisa had no idea of what to say to him. As she listened to his swift breathing, she had to admit Emma might indeed be on to something.
“Shall I speak to Mrs. Smyth, then?” he finally asked.
Mrs. Smyth? Oh, yes, the musicale. Thankfully, her mother walked into the salon with Emma in tow. Mamma cast her a look of disapproval while Emma smiled over at her.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Mamma said with a tight smile.
Harry rose and bowed to them both. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Drake, Miss Emma.”
“Mamma, His Grace was just asking if we should like to attend Mrs. Smyth’s musicale this evening.”
Her mother frowned. “I am afraid we have plans to attend an intimate supper at Lady Huntley’s tonight. We were invited just this afternoon.”
Harry gave a slight nod. “Of course. I did not wish you to miss out on Mrs. Smyth’s evening of music, but since you are otherwise occupied, I shall take my leave now. I look forward to seeing you all at Lady Leicester’s ball.”
As soon as the front door closed, Mamma spoke, “I thought we had agreed that the duke should not make any more calls on us.”
“Mamma, how am I supposed to tell a duke not call on me?” Louisa inhaled deeply to keep her anger from showing.
“I like the man,” Emma added with a smile.
Her mother turned on Emma. “And will you like him if your fiancé’s mother decides His Grace is not acceptable company? Bolton may be forced to throw you over.”
Emma’s gaze moved to her lap.
Louisa desperately wanted to tell them both that it might be for the best if Emma jilted Bolton. The man was far too controlled by his mother. He and Emma could never be happy while Lady Bolton was alive, but if her sister loved him, then Louisa could try to be supportive. “I highly doubt Lady Bolton would believe a duke to be unacceptable company.”
“Indeed?” Her mother reached for her tea. “She cut the Duke of Cranston in the middle of Almack’s.”
Louisa pressed her lips together. Cranston’s only offense was his immoral behavior, inclu
ding taking a mistress into his own home. Not quite on par with an admitted murderer for a father. She would need to speak with Emma alone before continuing this plan of pursuing Harry.
When neither of her daughters had a retort, Mamma rose and looked at them both as she stood. “I thought as much. And the invitation to supper at Lady Huntley’s is for me alone.”
After Mamma left the room, Emma looked up at her with a smile. “What was His Grace doing here?”
“He came to call because I have not answered the notes he has sent.”
“Perfect strategy.”
Was it? Louisa had assumed Emma might feel she was ignoring her plan. “How so?”
“He came to call on you.”
“I suppose he did.” Louisa stared down at her hand, unsure if she should mention what she had done. “I touched his chest.”
Emma’s blue eyes widened. “You what?”
“I made an excuse that he had a loose button on his waistcoat.” She refused to admit to her little sister how touching the brocade waistcoat had warmed her entire body. Or how she wanted to remove his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt to feel his skin under her hand.
“And did he react?”
Embarrassed by her thoughts, Louisa only nodded.
“How?” Emma pressed.
“His eyes...there was something different, unlike anything I had seen before. He sucked in a breath and could only stare at me.”
Emma smiled. “Excellent.”
“I’m not certain, Emma. You heard Mamma. What if Lady Bolton forces her son to break it off with you?”
“Bolton would never do such a thing. He loves me.”
“I am certain he does, but his mother is very controlling. You’ve admitted as much.” She wanted to shake Emma until she realized that Lady Bolton would never let Emma have a say in her son’s life. Emma was only to be a trophy, brought out to shine at the balls on her husband’s arm and then returned to the glass case and into the background.
“It will be different when we are married,” she replied confidently. “Now, what are you going to wear to Lady Leicester’s ball?”
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