‘I don’t suppose you have an invitation to Lady Lensborough’s picnic outing tomorrow, do you?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do. On account of the fact that her younger son is a friend of mine.’
‘Oh,’ she said, her heart lifting. ‘Then I shall look forward to seeing you there.’
‘What?’ He gave her a strange look. ‘No, I...I never said I was going.’
‘But what possible excuse can you give for not going?’
Now the look was no longer indecipherable. It was plain irritation. ‘I won’t have to give an excuse. Nobody will expect me to go. And don’t ask why they did send me an invitation. I get dozens of them. Mostly from matchmaking mothers attempting to foist their bran-faced daughters into my arms.’
She gasped, feeling as though he’d just slapped her. In fact, she did raise just one hand to her face, which had a smattering of the very freckles he’d just spoken of with such disdain.
‘Lady Lensborough doesn’t have a daughter,’ she pointed out. ‘Don’t you think she might have invited you thinking you might actually enjoy yourself?’
‘If she did, she must have windmills in her head,’ he muttered grimly, before releasing her hand, giving Aunt Susan a brief bow and marching straight out of the ballroom.
Chapter Six
It was a lovely day. The sun was shining. A few white clouds were scudding across the sky on the wings of a light breeze. Perfect weather, in fact, for driving into the countryside for a picnic.
Good grief. He was actually considering going. Just for the pleasure of seeing her face light up at the sight of him, the way it had done last night.
And savouring the way she kept on looking at his mouth as though she was remembering their kiss. Fondly.
Oh, the way she talked. The way she danced. The way she smiled. The way that tendril of hair caressed her neck, the way he’d like to caress it with his tongue.
Oh, hell! He whisked his hat from his head and rammed it on to the peg on the wall. If he was not careful he was going to fall for Lady Harriet. And would start trying to become the kind of man she wanted him to be. Some kind of... Prince Charming to her Cinderella.
And he wasn’t that man. He’d told her to her face he wasn’t that man. Warned her that nobody thought him worth a rap.
But she hadn’t cared. That was what got to him. That was what was tempting him to go on a stupid picnic, where he’d have to sit on damp grass and consume soggy sandwiches and drink flat champagne. Because she actually seemed to enjoy being with him. No matter how...frank he was. Because it meant she could be frank, too.
A chill trickled down his spine. How had it got this far? How had he reached the stage where they were being frank with one another? As though they were intimate?
And why the hell hadn’t he gone straight to Zeus, and Atlas, and Archie, the moment he’d found her, so that he could claim his winnings, come to that? Why was he prolonging this period of...getting to know her?
When it couldn’t lead anywhere.
Because he was damned if he was going to marry anyone this Season.
Not even her.
He slammed into his study and spent several hours excluding her from his thoughts by concentrating on the mountain of paperwork that he’d inherited along with the title.
* * *
When the light started to fade, he stalked round to Zeus’s club. To do what he should have done straight away. Tell him he’d found...damn it, if he thought of her as Hope, he’d weaken and keep her to himself.
Gritting his teeth, he mounted the steps. It would be better for his peace of mind to stay away from her altogether. But he would have to see her at least once more. To settle the wager. They all had to see her and agree she was indeed the girl who’d set about them with her riding crop and concede that he’d been the one to track her down. Or Zeus would think he’d won. Which was unthinkable.
Yes, at least he was going to enjoy the look on the know-it-all’s face when Zeus learned that all his assumptions about Lady Harriet were completely wrong.
What was more, the next time he saw her, with the others at his back and his attitude fixed on the wager, she wouldn’t have the same effect upon him. She couldn’t have.
Taking comfort from those two things, he tossed his hat and gloves to the doorman.
‘Lord Rawcliffe in?’
‘Yes, my lord. He and his guests have just dined and are taking coffee in the lounge.’
Jack could hazard a guess at the identity of Rawcliffe’s guests. And was proved correct when he entered the lounge a few moments later to see Archie and Atlas flanking the Marquis of Rawcliffe, Atlas with a despondent air and Archie with an abstracted one.
‘You really know how to entertain your guests, eh, Zeus,’ said Jack, approaching the gloomy trio. ‘Anyone would think someone had died.’
‘My g-grandmother d-did,’ said Archie.
‘Oh? Well, in that case, I beg pardon. When did that happen?’
‘Six months ago,’ said Zeus laconically.
‘Six months?’ Archie looked puzzled. ‘As long ago as that?’
Zeus met Jack’s gaze and rolled his eyes.
‘Dare say you have had other things on your mind,’ said Jack soothingly. ‘Nevertheless, my condolences.’
‘Yes, it was all very unpleasant,’ said Archie. ‘Things c-came out about her that none of my family ever suspected.’
Jack pulled up a fourth chair, summoned a waiter and ordered a drink.
‘That’s the thing with family,’ he said affably. ‘Always doing the damnedest things and leaving you totally spifflicated. But that’s not what I came here to discuss,’ he said, as he sat down.
‘Oh?’ Zeus raised one eyebrow. ‘You have come here to have a discussion, have you?’
Jack grinned. ‘Not that either. Astute of you to guess.’
‘It was not a guess. In all the years that I have known you, you have never once shown any interest in starting a discussion for its own sake.’
‘I think I detect a slur upon my character in there somewhere. But I shall let it pass. Because I’ve come to tell you that I have won the wager.’
‘You’ve found the girl?’ Atlas sat up a bit straighter.
‘Yes. And you’ll never guess who she is.’
‘No, I won’t,’ said Zeus. ‘You will spare me the effort of doing anything so tedious by informing me instead.’
‘Her name is Lady Harriet Inskip. She’s the daughter of the Earl and Countess of Balderstone.’
‘Is that so?’ Zeus didn’t look convinced. ‘I was not aware they had a daughter. Three sons, yes, but...’ He spread his hands wide.
‘She’s never been up to Town, according to her aunt. Kept in seclusion in the countryside, apparently.’
‘That accounts for the rustic manners, then.’
Not for the first time in recent weeks, Jack felt a very strong urge to knock a couple of Zeus’s teeth down his throat. Even though he’d teased her along the same lines himself, it was vastly different hearing the words come from Zeus’s mouth, larded as they were with a hefty dose of contempt.
‘How ever d-did you manage it?’ Archie was looking at him, for once, in something like the way he inevitably looked at Zeus. As though he had some kind of divine wisdom.
‘I did not give him the nickname Ulysses for nothing,’ Zeus drawled. ‘He does have a cunning, low-down sort of intelligence.’
Jack grinned at him. ‘That’s me,’ he said, promptly forgiving Zeus for his apparent ill humour.
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. That was the thing about Zeus. Deep down, beneath the camouflage of unpleasant manners and cutting barbs, Zeus actually rated him fairly highly. Or at least, as highly as he rated any other mortal who crossed hi
s orbit.
And not many men did.
‘And for another thing,’ said Zeus as though Jack had not spoken, ‘he was actually looking.’
‘Meaning you were not?’
‘I confess,’ said Zeus with a shrug, ‘that I did not have as much interest as you. Besides—’ He pulled up short, with what might, in any other man, have passed for an apologetic shrug.
‘What you mean is that you have more important things to do than run round Town hunting down mystery females, I take it?’
Zeus managed to look down his thin, aristocratic nose at Jack, even though they were sitting on a level. ‘I could point out that you also have more important things to do than run round Town hunting down mystery females. Or making wagers which are likely to end up with you breaking your neck, come to that.’
‘You could, but you would not do so, lest I take it as an insult and decide to draw your cork.’
‘I am surprised you do not simply do it, since you are clearly spoiling for a fight and have been doing so ever since you sold out.’
At some time during this interchange, Jack had actually clenched his fists. Though he only realised he’d done so when the waiter came over with his brandy, obliging him to unclench them.
Zeus watched him pour and down his drink, with what looked to Jack like a trace of disappointment. Almost as though he was spoiling for a fight, too. Though he couldn’t imagine why. There were no estate managers telling him he didn’t know what he was talking about and had better leave matters to the men his father and older brothers had trusted. He hadn’t rushed home from a life that had suited him down to the ground, hoping for a deathbed reconciliation with his dying father, only to have the man weep at the cruelty of a fate which had seen his two splendidly brawny sons precede him to the grave, leaving everything in the hands of what he termed the runt of the litter.
Atlas cleared his throat. ‘Gentlemen, don’t you think there is enough fighting in this world without friends turning upon one another over the question of a wager? Or a woman?’ He frowned. ‘Or whatever this is about.’
Both Jack and Zeus turned to glare at him.
‘What will you do, knock our heads together? The way you used to do at school?’
‘I’d like to see him try,’ said Zeus scornfully. ‘In his present state, I think even Archie could overpower him.’
‘What?’ Archie blinked in a bewildered fashion at the other three, having clearly drifted off again and missed the swirling undercurrents that had brought them close to the brink of quarrelling.
‘I was just saying,’ said Zeus, ‘that you could overpower Atlas these days, if you put your mind to it.’
‘Yes, of c-course I c-could,’ said Archie. ‘Under the right c-conditions. Or if I had a weapon that meant I would not have to c-come within reach of his fists. Though why should I wish to? Atlas is my friend.’
‘We are all your friends, Archie,’ said Jack. Though he wondered how long their friendships with each other would last, now they were grown men who had little in common beyond their shared past.
‘Just because Zeus is the only one who has been in a position to do anything for you,’ put in Atlas bitterly, ‘that does not mean that we wouldn’t have done so. Wouldn’t do anything in our power to help you, that is, should you need it.’
‘Well, I know that...’ said Archie, looking baffled. ‘I really d-don’t know why—’
‘Enough!’ Zeus bit out the one word with savagery. ‘It is clear that we all have...difficulties in our lives, which are making us resent what we see as the good fortune of the others. Let us...cease dwelling on them. For tonight, at least. And...’
This time, when he ran out of words, it was Jack who felt obliged to come to the rescue.
‘And tomorrow night, let us all meet again at Miss Roke’s come-out ball. I am sure you have an invitation, Zeus?’
‘I have no idea. My secretary deals with the flood of invitations I get to those kinds of events at this time of year. I generally avoid them wherever possible.’
‘Yes, but tomorrow night, you will delight Miss Roke by making an appearance. And bring these two along with you,’ he finished, waving in the direction of Archie and Atlas.
‘And why, pray,’ said Zeus, pokering up the way he invariably did when anyone else had the temerity to attempt to take the initiative when he was in the room, ‘should I do any such thing?’
‘Why, because that is where Lady Harriet will be.’ At least, he was fairly sure that was where she would be. It was the most exclusive of the balls being held, that he knew of. The kind where all the better-born debutantes would be doing their utmost to attract a husband from the highest echelons of society. ‘And you all need to see her. To verify my claim that she is the same woman who came galloping to my rescue, then thought better of it and let us all feel the force of her displeasure. With her riding crop.’
‘And then this thing between the pair of you will be settled,’ said Atlas hopefully.
Jack very much doubted it. It had been a long time, a very long time, since he’d hung on Zeus’s every word. He’d become an officer. Grown accustomed to command. Had led men into battle. And could no longer go back to the attitude of hero-worship which Zeus still seemed to feel was his due.
‘The wager will be settled,’ said Zeus, confirming Jack’s suspicions. ‘But what ails Ulysses, I fear, will not be remedied until he returns home and deals with the usurpers attempting to keep him from his kingdom.’
Jack sucked in a sharp breath as the dart went home.
Damned if Zeus wasn’t right.
As always.
Chapter Seven
On the face of it, the picnic had been a success. It hadn’t rained, the food had been delicious and only one person had been stung by a bee.
And yet it would have been so much more enjoyable if Lord Becconsall had been there.
In the coach, on the way home, Aunt Susan took her to task for looking bored.
‘I should not need to remind you that a lady must always be charming in public. She must never let anyone suspect she is not perfectly content with things as they are.’
At which point Kitty giggled.
‘Yes, well, dear,’ said Aunt Susan, pursing her lips, ‘you did behave much better than some of the girls present, I have to admit. So we will say no more.’
And she hadn’t. They’d all travelled home in perfect amity, Harriet with the sensation of having been given a great accolade. She’d behaved much better than some of the other girls at the picnic. Girls who’d had years and years of coaching in correct behaviour. And who should have known better.
She was smiling to herself as their coach pulled up outside the imposing mansion in Berkeley Square known to all and sundry as Tarbrook House. And kept on smiling as they gathered their shawls, reticules and skirts in preparation for alighting.
The footman let down the steps, Keeble, the butler, pulled the front door wide and stood to one side.
To reveal Lord Tarbrook, standing with his fists on his hips, glaring out at them.
Oh, dear. What had she done now? She racked her brains, but could come up with nothing.
‘You,’ he snarled, pointing not at Harriet, but at Aunt Susan. ‘My study. Now.’
Though Aunt Susan looked puzzled, she only hesitated for a moment before doing as she’d been told, following her husband along the corridor and through the door which he was holding open.
Before it had even shut on the pair of them, he started bellowing. Harriet was too shocked to register the exact words, but between his hectoring tone and Aunt Susan’s protestations, it was clear he was accusing her of something which she was strenuously denying.
And before she could start to strain her ears, Kitty took her arm and propelled her at breakneck speed to the staircase
.
‘It’s best to steer well clear of Papa when he’s, um, in a bit of a taking,’ she explained apologetically, thrusting Harriet into her room and scurrying off in the direction of her own.
A bit of a taking?
If ever she did get married, she vowed as she closed the bedroom door, it would be to a man of an even temperament. Not one who flew up into the boughs over every little thing.
Someone more like Papa, who was contented pottering about in his stables, and kennels, and seeing to estate business. Who was happy to let his wife spend all her time on what he considered her hobbies. Who didn’t demand anything...
Well, except heirs, naturally. And he’d always told Mama, and anyone else who cared to listen, how very grateful he’d been to her for presenting him with three such strapping sons in rapid succession in the early days of their marriage.
He’d never said what he thought of the way she’d inexplicably given birth to Harriet—after such a lengthy gap she looked like an afterthought—or if he had, she’d never heard about it.
She supposed that was one point in Uncle Hugo’s favour. He really did seem to dote on Kitty. Even though she was merely a girl.
She shook off the contrary thought and applied herself to the task of making herself presentable for the evening’s outing. It was another ball. This one to celebrate the betrothal of a pretty young heiress to an elderly earl. At last she had a truly lovely gown to wear, of white satin with a white crape overdress which made it look deliciously filmy. Best of all, though, the bodice was of rich green satin, decorated only with touches of silver at the waist and neckline. No more pure white for her, Aunt Susan had agreed. With a bandeau of pearls twisted into her upswept hair, and pearls at her throat, Harriet felt as pretty as she was ever likely to look.
* * *
When it was time to go out, Aunt Susan gave a splendid demonstration of her earlier advice about how a lady ought to behave. From her calm demeanour nobody would ever guess she’d just spent a couple of hours being scolded. Nor did Kitty betray any curiosity about the way her parents had been arguing.
The Major Meets His Match Page 7