Trouble With Harry

by Katie MacAlister

  “Was he?” Plum blushed a little, just a tiny bit, just a wee little pinkening to her cheeks. She had to admit that although there were definitely parts of her life that could be improved, her physical relationship with Harry had been absolutely perfect. Harry had been most enthusiastic about working through the exercises presented in the Guide, and even had a few calisthenics of his own to show her. In addition to their nightly engagement, Harry had awoken her each morning with another testament to his stamina and creativity. Plum didn’t wonder that he was smiling. He often left her grinning her head off.

  “Yes, he was,” Thom answered, eyeing her with far too knowing a look. Plum made an effort not to look smug. “Temple told me he hasn’t seen Harry so happy in years, since before the first Lady Rosse died. He says it’s because you’re keeping Harry content.”

  “Temple is impertinent.” Plum’s blush turned a bit hotter. “Where are you off to with that large net and the ladder?”

  “Bats,” Thom said succinctly, and after giving Plum a cheery smile, she turned to march up the next flight of stairs. Plum stood back to let the footmen pass, trying to decide whether to go beard Harry in his den or to check on the children first. It was really a matter of the lesser of two evils—the children were always up to something, usually something guaranteed to make her look bad in front of their father, while going to speak to Harry…she took a deep breath and turned her feet toward the stairs leading down to the hall. She loved Harry. She loved him a great deal, more than she had ever loved a man, and after the incident last night, the time had finally come for her to tell him the truth. Or part of it—the part concerning Charles. She owed him that much.

  “Good morning, Lady Rosse. You look as charming as one of the tea roses you uncovered in the garden.”

  Normally Plum would have enjoyed Temple’s compliments, although she knew his approval had more to do with the fact that she had persuaded Harry to allow his study to be cleaned than anything else she’d done since she married him, but this morning she had an ugly secret to bare. Trading compliments would have to wait. She bit her lip. “Is Harry working on his project?”

  “Yes. Another two crates arrived from Rosehill early this morning. He’s sorting through them.”

  Drat it all. Boxes of papers had been arriving for him at a steady rate for the past two weeks, the arrival of each heralding a period when Harry was incommunicado until he staggered out for the evening meal. Plum was dying to know what the project was about, but all Harry had told her was that he was looking into an episode in his past for someone in the government. She hadn’t wanted to pry, although the fact that he didn’t trust her with the details about his project rankled. The irony of her situation—that she hadn’t trusted him with her own secrets—did not escape her; they just made the rankle that much more uncomfortable. Only the fact that she had been busy trying to bring some order to the house, the staff, and the children, not to mention attend daily fittings from the modiste Harry had brought in, choose wallpapers and paint colors, select furniture to be thrown out or refurbished, prowl the attics in search of hidden treasures to scatter throughout the house, and a hundred other everyday tasks kept her from pressuring Harry into telling her more about his project.

  “Temple…” Plum eyed the door to Harry’s room for a moment, then turned her attention to the secretary standing before her. “Just what exactly is this project Harry is engaged upon?”

  Temple’s glance slid from her to a spot on the wall just beyond her shoulder. “I couldn’t say, ma’am.”

  “Of course you could, Harry tells you everything. You mean you won’t tell me.”

  Temple inclined his head to allow that was so.

  “I dislike secrets, Temple,” Plum said, pushing back the knowledge that she had no right to adopt such a self-righteous tone, justifying her annoyance with the memory of just what sorts of secrets men kept. They could be very harmful, indeed. “Harry said his work has something to do with an event in his past. What event?”

  “You’d have to ask his lordship that, ma’am.”

  Plum allowed herself to have one of her three daily sighs and turned toward the door to Harry’s inner sanctum. “I’m disappointed in you, Temple, I truly am.”

  “I am indeed grieved to hear that.”

  “I had expected better of you.”

  Temple bowed his head as if he was overwhelmed with grief.

  “I had thought we were friends. Friends, as you must know, tell each other things, particularly when those things concern a much loved individual.”

  He didn’t look the least bit contrite. “Do they, indeed, ma’am? I will remember that for the future.”

  It was no use. She couldn’t shame him into telling her Harry’s secret, and in a way she admired him for standing firm; she knew what the repercussions could be of someone spreading details that were not meant for common knowledge. Taking a deep breath, she rapped briefly on Harry’s door, then entered the room. It was still dark and murky, but at least it was clean, and the windows shone brightly, allowing in more than just a mote or two of sunlight. Today they stood open, the fragrant smell of baked earth and newly scythed grass wafting in, the distant low of cattle and the chatter of birds reminding her of just how wonderful summer could be. If only she could get Harry outside to enjoy some of that lovely weather.

  “Harry, do you have a moment?”

  He looked up from a mountain of papers, his eyes brightening. “For you, however many moments you desire.”

  She gave him a weak smile, nervous and feeling a bit clammy about her midsection now that the moment had come to unburden herself. She walked toward his outstretched hand, allowing him to pull her onto his lap.

  “I don’t suppose you came in here to work your womanly wiles on me?” he asked, nibbling along her neck. “Dare I hope that you’ve come to seduce me and save me from the mind-numbingly tedious work of sorting through these papers?”

  Plum squirmed on his lap, trying to slow her beating heart, trying desperately to hang on to her good intentions. Harry always managed to drive even the simplest of thoughts from her mind whenever he touched her. Delaying her moment of truth, she seized the opening he offered. “Is your work so unpleasant, then? Is there something I can help you with?”

  He kissed her ear. “Thank you for such a selfless offer, but no. I wish you could, but it’s something I must see through myself.”

  She squirmed again, and he caught her hips, holding her still. “What is it you’re looking for?”

  “Just some boring old notes. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

  “I’m very good with notes. I would be happy to be of assistance.”

  The wonderful laugh lines around his eyes crinkled delightfully as he grinned at her. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be able to get a single thing done were you to try to help me. I’d be too busy planning what calisthenic I wanted to try with you.”

  “But—”

  “No, thank you, Plum. I should be done with this in a week; then I promise I’ll be a better husband.”

  Guilt washed over her in a wave that had her heart contracting painfully. He was so wonderful to her now, how could he think he was anything less than perfect? Shame made her words sound pettish and ungrateful. “Very well. If you don’t wish to share your burden with me, I won’t pry.”

  Harry laughed and kissed her chin. “As if I haven’t burdened you with enough?” Plum’s heart sank. His words and tone were playful, but his meaning was clear. She hadn’t done very well with the responsibilities he had given her, it was no wonder he didn’t trust her with anything more. Before she could protest, he continued. “Before I forget myself and investigate the charming breasts I know are hiding beneath your bodice, what was it you wanted to see me about?”

  Plum couldn’t meet his eyes. She bit her lip, told herself to stop being such a coward, and blurted out, “It’s some
thing…unpleasant.”

  Harry groaned. “All right. Out with it. Who did what now?”

  After a month’s experience of rescuing animals, objects, and sometimes people from the almost always disastrous attention of her stepchildren, she knew just what he was asking. “The children haven’t done anything.”

  “No? There hasn’t been another accident, has there?”

  Plum frowned. “No, you know I’d tell you if anything else happened, but as you bring that up…Harry, don’t you think it rather odd that so many things have gone wrong during the last few weeks? First McTavish got sick eating something that we’ve still to identify—”

  Her husband cocked a brow. “I thought we decided he ate a poisonous berry by mistake?”

  Plum shook her head. “I’m not convinced of that. He says he didn’t eat any berries, but he’s hiding something. Then the girls and Thom were accosted by that gypsy while they were out walking in the fields—”

  “That was likely just a vagrant looking for a handout.”

  “—and then Digger had that fall from his horse. You said yourself that you found two burrs under the saddle, so poor Frozen Dawn had no choice but to buck when Digger mounted him.”

  Harry’s hand slid up her thigh in a most distracting manner. “Yes, but I also said that the boys had been playing with the saddle blankets, and they could have inadvertently picked up a burr or two while they were being dragged God knows where.”

  “That’s unlikely,” Plum argued, ignoring the heat his touch generated.

  “But not impossible.”

  “Then there’s—”

  Harry sighed—he did not have to ration his sighs. “Plum, are you going to recount every incident that’s happened during the last month? Because if you are, I’d prefer you be naked so I can at least enjoy the scenery.”

  She slapped his hand away from where it was creeping, annoyed that even after a month of her trying to control the children, they still behaved like maniacs. “Harry, I’m serious.”

  “I know you are, sweetheart, and I appreciate that you’re so concerned for the children, but close acquaintance with them forces me to be blunt—disaster follows them like shadows. What they don’t cause by their own actions seems to be drawn to them. Once you learn to accept that, you’ll be much easier in your mind.”

  “Hrmph.” Plum didn’t agree with that, but realized the moment to fight that battle was not now.

  “Was that all you wanted?”

  “No, what I have to say to you concerns me.”

  Both of his eyebrows raised. “You? What could you have to tell me about yourself that was unpleasant? You haven’t changed your mind about me and now want to run off with Juan?”

  “No, it’s not that,” she answered, unable to keep from responding to his teasing grin. She kissed the tip of his nose. “There’s no other man who could possibly compare with you, Harry.”

  He had the smug look of a man with a well-pleasured wife, but as she was the wife in question, she didn’t mind.

  “It’s…uh…about last night.”

  “Last night?” His eyebrows rose again. “What about it?”

  Plum’s cheeks turned pink under his gaze. Stupid cheeks. She had worked through a great many of the calisthenics with Harry, had seen, touched, and tasted almost every part of his person, and still she blushed whenever she mentioned their activities. “Last night, when you performed Matador Facing a Wild Bull, you…you”—her gaze dropped to his shoulder—“finished inside me rather than out, as you have done in the past.”

  “Ah. Yes. That.” Harry’s voice sounded a bit strained. Plum peeked up at him, unsure of what she would see, but surprised to find his eyes filled with remorse. His jaw tightened, a muscle flexing in his cheek before he spoke. “I apologize, Plum. I had not meant to do that, but the matador move had me a bit closer to the edge than I anticipated. I assure you it won’t happen again.”

  Her hopes plummeted. “It won’t?”

  “No. I made a promise, and I will hold by it.”

  Well, hell. She should have known it was a mistake and not a sign he was softening toward her. Still, she had promised herself weeks ago that when Harry finally trusted her with his seed, she would trust him with at least one of her secrets. “I see.”

  “Plum?” He lifted her chin and peered into her eyes, worry evident in his. “I didn’t hurt you when I did the matador, did I?”

  “No, you didn’t. It’s always been one of my favorite calisthenics, but Charles was never very good at it.”

  Harry relaxed, a slight smile playing around his lips. “I suppose it’s not right to wish the dead ill, but I have to admit I’m happy to know that I can outperform your first husband on at least one front.”

  Plum bit her lip again, damned her weak spirit, took a deep breath, and steeled herself for Harry’s reaction. “Charles wasn’t really my first husband, you are. That is, he was my first husband, except he was already married when he married me, although I didn’t know that until six weeks later, when he admitted that our marriage was bigamous, and he had done it simply because he knew I’d never become his mistress, which was true, I would have never agreed to anything so shocking, only what I did turned out to be more shocking, because everyone thought I had simply jumped into his bed, when I truly thought we were wed, and they cut me, cut my entire family until I was disowned, and sent my poor sister into a fatal decline as a result of the scandal.”

  She ran out of breath before she could finish the explanation. Harry sat still as a stone throughout all of it, his eyes steady on hers, not a word passing his lips. Her gaze dropped before his, unable to bear looking at him any longer. She had known telling him the truth would be awful, but this was unbearable. “I should have told you before we were married. I was too afraid you wouldn’t marry me if I did. I am a coward at heart, Harry, and for my deception I am very sorry. You deserve better. If you’d like me to…to leave, I will.”

  His finger curled around her chin, lifting it, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark and unreadable. “Leave this room, or leave me?”

  Tears pricked behind her eyes. She swallowed, her throat tight and aching. “Whichever you prefer.”

  His kiss took her completely by surprise. His mouth was warm, so warm and loving as he feasted on her lips, then slid his tongue inside to take full possession. Hope, blighted into dust, began to gather itself again. “Silly wife. As if I could survive without you.”

  “You couldn’t survive without me?” Plum asked, her voice quavering as the tears filled her eyes. He wasn’t upset? He wasn’t angry? He wasn’t hurt and disappointed and shocked by her past?

  He kissed her again, gently this time, his thumb wiping away the tears that spilled over her eyes. “You should know by now that I can’t live without you, none of us can. I’m sorry you were treated so poorly, both by the man to whom you’d given your trust, and by your family, but you can’t imagine that it has any effect on us now.”

  “But…but…the scandal!”

  Harry chuckled, he actually chuckled. Plum’s spirits, which had been residing in the bottom of her new boots, rose and soared. He wasn’t angry! He could laugh! He wanted her still! “I think I like you silly as you are now. It’s such a refreshing change from the competent, unflappable Plum. It gives hope to those of us who are made of much coarser earth.”

  “It was a very bad scandal,” Plum said, ignoring his teasing compliment, feeling that as long as he knew the worst, he should be told the full extent of its ramifications. “My father said I would never be received in polite company again, and that no one nice would know me.”

  “Your father didn’t reckon with me,” Harry said, his slow smile making Plum’s eyes fill with tears again, tears of love this time. How could any man be so wonderful? “You’re my wife now, Plum. The fact that you were taken in by the worst sort of r
ogue twenty years ago will not be an issue.”

  “But, Papa said—”

  “Your father was wrong. I know the ton, and although there is nothing they like more than scandals, this one will not be fodder for their picking.”

  “How do you know that? They were very cruel to me and my sister. Thom has been made to suffer, too, by not being brought out when she should, by not having the advantages she should, or being taken in by my family when her uncle died. I wouldn’t want my sin to hurt the children as she has been hurt.”

  “Thom looks anything but hurt.” Harry laughed. “She’s blossomed here, in case you haven’t noticed. The only blight on her horizon is those blasted breeches you refuse to allow her.”

  “Yes, but the children—”

  “Are fine and this cannot hurt them. You might not think much of my title, but I assure you being a marquis has a few benefits, one of which is the ability to blot up any spills in your copybook. What my title can’t induce people to forget, my reputation will.”

  “I happen to be a very messy writer,” Plum said, thinking that not even Harry could wield enough power to make the ton accept the notorious Vyvyan La Blue as his wife. That secret, at least, was safe. No one but her, Thom, and her man of affairs knew the truth, and none of them would speak.

  Harry laughed again, hugged her, and kissed her very quickly before gently pushing her off his lap. “If you don’t leave now, I’m going to throw everything on the floor, set you on the edge of my desk, spread your lovely white thighs, and—”

  “Harry!” Plum stared pointedly at the open window. A newly employed gardener stood just beyond, staring in with his mouth hanging open.

  Harry gave her another of his infectious grins. “You see? You’re a bad influence on me. Now go, before I really give him something to gape at.”

  “But, I’m not finished speaking with you about the scandal—”

  “There’s nothing more to be said.” He made shooing motions with a handful of papers. “Take your lovely, tempting self off and do something frivolous. But not too strenuous, you’ll need your strength later. I’ve thought up a variation on Hummingbird Supping Nectar that I think you’ll like.”