“Torment, more like,” said Harriett dryly. “Have your sisters ever forgiven you?”
“All but one.” Christopher grinned slyly, thinking of his sister, Penelope, and the string of unladylike words she had cast at him the time he’d given her a bottle of lavender scent for her bath water. Unbeknownst to her, he’d added purple dye as well. She had thought the color of her bath water charming until her skin and hair had taken on a similar hue.
“She has yet to learn that to forgive is divine? Did you not favor her with one of your readings from the Bible?” Harriett said sweetly.
Christopher chuckled and shook his head. Penelope had always been the most ornery of his sisters, always determined to find fault with anyone and anything. “I suppose that gaining her good opinion did not matter as much to me as… other’s good opinions.”
Christopher had meant it as a joke, but as he spoke the words, he realized they were true. He did wish for Harriett’s good opinion. He also wished for her forgiveness and for her not to stiffen or shrink away from his touch. Something told him that she was fiercely loyal to those she cared about, and he wanted to belong to that exclusive inner circle.
“Did you lob apples at her from your favorite tree?” she asked.
Christopher shook his head again. He knew better than to do that to his sisters. “Only at Jonathan. And the coachman a time or two.” Before he’d knocked the poor man off his seat and broken his arm, that is. For that act of idiocy, Christopher had been sentenced to read the entire book of Psalms and write a paragraph about each one. There was a reason he was so well versed in the Bible. It had been his nanny’s preferred method of punishment.
“Now that we’ve established you’re a tease and possibly even a brute,” said Harriett. “Tell me of a kindness you’ve done for someone.”
Christopher thought back over his youth and frowned when he couldn’t recall anything but the many pranks he’d concocted—none of which had been very kind. It wasn’t as though he’d had a sinister nature. He’d merely enjoyed making life more interesting, and a few harmless pranks here and there had always livened things up. But surely he’d done something good somewhere along the way.
Hmm…
Did offering his sister a hand after she’d tripped over the twine he’d stretched between two trees count? Probably not, considering he’d tricked her into walking that direction on purpose, telling her he’d found a new shortcut.
Good gads, he had been a troublesome youth, hadn’t he?
But that had all happened before the war and before he’d learned a thing or two about the world and people. Since then, he’d done many things he’d consider kind and good, like taking a slug to save a crew member and sharing his last ration with someone worse off than he. But he could never boast of such acts, not even to gain Harriett’s good opinion.
“Christopher once saved a kitten from drowning,” said Jonathan, coming to his rescue. “He stayed up all night to make sure it didn’t come to lasting harm. He also attempted to bake a cake for his family’s cook when he learned it was her birthday, though I’m not sure you could call that a kindness as it turned out quite vile. But he did once punch a stableboy for daring to hold hands with his sister. Despite our many pranks, we were both very protective of his sisters.”
Christopher nodded, grateful for the reminder that he had done a few redeemable acts during his youth, although the poor stable boy had come away with a bleeding and broken nose.
Harriett didn’t look overly impressed by his good deeds, but she pressed on, inquiring about his family, his home in Cornwall, and his years at school, learning about several more of his scrapes in the process.
When dinner was at last announced, Christopher breathed a sigh of relief. He had never been the recipient of so many questions and could only be grateful they had not progressed to the time he’d spent in the navy. Those had been long and difficult years that offered very little in the way of entertainment.
He rose and offered Harriett his arm. “Would you care to accompany me into dinner, my lady?”
After only a slight hesitation, she placed her hand on the crook of his elbow. Christopher chose to think of it as progress. She had never willingly touched him before.
“I thought we were to dispense with titles and ranks,” she said. “Or do you regret giving me leave to call you Chris?”
Christopher couldn’t say that he did. Each time he heard her say it, he liked it more than the last.
“Oddly enough, I’m growing fond of it.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
He couldn’t tell if that pleased or irritated her, but as they walked into dinner in what felt like perfect accord with each other, Christopher had the happy thought that perhaps she’d finally forgiven him—or at least was on her way to doing so.
Miracles did happen, after all.
HARRIETT STARED AT HER reflection in the looking glass while Tabby arranged a knot at the crown of her head. But her mind was not on her appearance or Tabby’s ramblings about the recent goings on below stairs. She was thinking about three nights prior, when Lieutenant Jamison had become Chris. They had spent the entire evening conversing, and Harriett had asked him every question she could think to ask, but the only discovery she’d made was that Chris had experienced a childhood very similar to her own, filled with plenty of mischief and mayhem. Only his stories were far more interesting and his pranks more ingenious.
Once again, she had paled in comparison while he had come away conqueror.
Drat the man.
Harriett pressed her lips together, chiding herself for such ridiculous thoughts. But honestly, was it too much to ask to have an affinity for something? She’d take anything at this point, even shuttlecock champion. Unfortunately, her brother, Colin, already held that particular title. Her sister, Charlotte, had the loveliest singing voice in all of Essex. And her other brother, James, had always been known as a charmer. His smile and sugary words could turn anyone up sweet, even the crotchety Mrs. Simms from the mercantile, as evidenced by the day he returned from town with a pocketful of sweets from the woman. Harriett had never received even one treat from her, let alone an entire pocketful of them.
And then there was Chris, who could probably best Colin at shuttlecock, cast Charlotte in the shade with his rich, melodious voice, and come away from the mercantile with two pocketfuls of sweets. The man had turned Mrs. Bidding up sweet in only a matter of minutes, after all. Even Harriett had to catch herself from falling under his spell on numerous occasions—like the other night, for example, when he’d nearly captivated her with his charming burr, his rich laughter, and the devilish gleam in his eyes.
Yes, he was certainly difficult to resist.
Since that night, he and Jonathan had been much absent, being consumed with discussions about some sort of farming venture. Locked away in Jonathan’s study or surveying the estate with the bailiff, they’d joined the ladies only for dinners, and only briefly at that.
The worst part was that Harriett had actually begun to miss Chris. She found herself glancing up anytime someone strode past, hoping for a glimpse of him, only to decide that the house had far too many servants. And every night after dinner, when the men excused themselves and returned to the library or Jonathan’s study, she felt… disappointed.
Disappointed? How could that be?
Drat the man.
She had no idea how he’d managed to weasel into a small part of her heart, but somehow he had. It was highly disconcerting.
“Tabby was correct. You really are away with the fairies,” said Cora from behind, startling Harriett from her wretched thoughts.
Much to Harriett’s surprise, Tabby had not only finished the coiffure, but she’d curled a few tendrils, added a lovely ribbon to Harriett’s hair, and was now nowhere to be seen. How was that possible? Tabby always bustled about, prattling on about something. And she had never departed without a cheerful, “Enjoy your day, milady.” Had Harriett
missed that as well?
Gracious, she really had been away with the fairies, hadn’t she?
“How long have you been standing there?” Harriett asked, watching her friend through the mirror.
“Long enough to know you have something on your mind,” Cora teased. “But I am glad to see that you have returned to us once again. Now that my husband has decided to occupy his every hour with business matters, I’m sure I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without you to keep me company.”
Harriett rose from the dressing table and turned around. “In that case, thank you for bringing me back to the world in which we live.”
Cora sat down on the bed and patted a spot next to her. “Fairies can be much more interesting at times, can they not? What is on your mind, my friend? You are obviously troubled about something.”
Not long ago, Cora had been the one to lay her problems at Harriett’s door, but now it seemed to be the other way around—a circumstance Harriett did not care for at all. It was dreadful to be on the needy end of things.
Still, Harriett sat by her friend and felt a great temptation to rest her head on Cora’s shoulder.
“Is it Christopher? Have you allowed him to steal your confidence again?” Cora asked.
Harriett almost winced at the unhappy reminder that she had, indeed, allowed him to make her feel quite pathetic. But that was not the cause for her reflections this morning.
“No,” Harriett said. “He hasn’t been around enough lately to do that, has he?”
“Oh, is that the problem?”
Harriett was about to tell her that no, his absence was definitely not the problem, but Cora was quick to add, “Because if it is, I might know of a solution.”
Her curiosity piqued, Harriett couldn’t help asking, “What sort of solution?”
“Well, I was only just speaking with our cook, Mrs. Caddy, and she happened to mention that the past few nights someone has been helping himself—or herself—to what’s left of the dessert after the servants had gone to bed. Normally, I would point the finger at Jonathan, as he is fond of late night snacks, but I know it is not him because he has been with me. And I can’t imagine it was you either.”
“Definitely not me,” said Harriett.
“Which leaves only Christopher as our culprit.”
Harriett wondered what that had to do with Cora’s so-called solution. Unless… She eyed her friend sharply. “You’re not suggesting what I think you are, are you?”
Cora shrugged. “I said I might know of a solution—not that I did know of one.”
Harriett gaped at her in astonishment. “Have you gone daft, Cora? A lady does not creep downstairs in the middle of the night with the hope of encountering a certain man.”
Rather than appear properly chastised, Cora played with the fabric of her skirts. “Perhaps not, but Jonathan and I shared a midnight snack on more than one occasion, and I will always remember those moments with fondness. There is something about that time of day, whether it’s exhaustion or the shielding effects of darkness, that makes people feel more comfortable revealing things they’d never consider discussing over luncheon.”
Harriett had to concede the truth in that statement. Her tongue had always been more willing to wag in the evening than the morning. But if she ever did happen upon Chris, would his tongue loosen as well, or would it only be hers? She frowned, knowing it would likely be the latter. Which was precisely why she would never consider hunting down a man in the dead of night—that, and it would be highly improper.
Goodness, she had dwelled on this far too long. It was time to be done with it—all of it—the competing, the contrasting, the comparing, and the always finding herself wanting. What good did it do? None. Absolutely none.
Enough was enough. Chris was a man of many talents. Was that so bad? Let him be good at everything. Let Cora be known for her kind-hearted spirit and positive outlook. Let her siblings enjoy their many talents. It was all well and good. Harriett had to make it well and good or she would go mad.
The simple fact was that no matter how hard she tried, she could not control her situation. The only thing she could control was her attitude, and starting right now she would strive to be as upbeat and optimistic as her dear friend.
Oh dear. There she went, comparing herself yet again. Would she never learn?
“Harriett?” Cora teased. “Are you away with the fairies again?”
For whatever reason, be it lunacy or Harriett’s fierce desire to feel happy once more, she started to laugh, long and hard. When her eyes began shedding tears, she buried her giggles in the pillow and allowed her shoulders to shake them free. She could not help herself. After such a long spell of scheming and fretting to no avail, the feeling of letting everything go intoxicated her. It brightened the room, sent her frustrations scurrying away, and uplifted her heart.
Oh, what a blessed feeling.
As her laughter died down, she rolled onto her back and felt the sunlight streak across her face. Spring was not the time for wretchedness. It was a time for glorying in new beginnings, enjoying flowery scents, and observing the beauty of renewed life. She must remember that.
She would remember that.
Cora looked down on her with twinkling eyes and a wide smile. “Most people would have cried, you know.”
“I am not most people,” said Harriett.
“I am glad to hear you have finally realized that.”
Harriett drew herself up and rested her head on Cora’s shoulder. “Bless you for being so good to me.”
“I could say exactly the same to you, you know. The way I see it, we’re now square.” Cora patted Harriett’s knee. “Now what do you say we drive ourselves to town and spend the remainder of the day increasing our wardrobes and emptying Jonathan’s purse? Perhaps that will give him a reason to notice me once more. He watches the books with an eye of an eagle, you know.”
Harriett grinned and pushed herself to her feet. “I think it a marvelous plan. Shall we be off?”
“Not until you allow me to tuck your errant hair back into place. I’m afraid your fit of the giggles has quite ruined your chignon.”
Harriett’s hands flew to the loose knot and wild, fraying curls. She didn’t have to peer into the mirror to know how frightful she must look. It was a good thing Tabby was no longer around, or her maid would never forgive her.
“In fairyland, this style is all the rage, you know,” Harriett said.
And with that, Cora began to laugh.
Harriett lay in bed that night unable to sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about Chris’s handsome face or the fact that she might find him in the kitchen this very moment. She had not seen him at breakfast—he had already been up for hours—nor at luncheon either, which was not at all surprising. But dinner had been another matter completely as the gentlemen always took a break to dine with the ladies.
This evening, however, Harriett and Cora had stopped in at the Biddings on their way back from town. The couple was delighted to see them and couldn’t wait to show off their precious Pippin and her litter of new puppies—three to be precise. They clustered around their mother in a large basket located near the fire in the library while Pippin dozed. It was a precious sight indeed. Harriett ached to pick up one of the little darlings and hold it close.
“Now you have seen the reason we have not called at Tanglewood of late. They arrived four days ago. Are they not too sweet for words?” Mrs. Bidding said, obviously thrilled by the newest additions to their family.
Harriett crouched down for a closer look and pointed at a puppy with variegated brown and white fur around its nose. “This one has the look of a foxhound, does it not?”
Mr. Bidding nodded. “You are very observant, Lady Harriett. Before Pippin came to live with us, the neighboring estate housed a foxhound. We couldn’t be sure the creature was the father until the litter arrived. One look at that puppy, and we knew the truth of it.”
“He’s adorable,” s
aid Harriett, thinking of Lieutenant Jamison and his dislike of small dogs. Unable to resist the temptation, she added, “If you could ever bear to part with one of these dear creatures, I’m certain the lieutenant would love to take one home with him.”
“What a charming idea,” said Mrs. Bidding. “If Mr. Bidding and I should decide to do such a thing, I will be sure to place the credit for the suggestion at your door.”
“That is very gracious of you,” said Harriett, happy to take credit. She would very much like to see the look on Chris’s face when such an offer was made.
Mr. Bidding allowed the ladies to enjoy the puppies for a few moments more before ushering them from the room. “We’ll let them sleep and continue our conversation in the drawing room, shall we?”
Once settled, Mrs. Bidding soon discovered that the lieutenant and Jonathan had been preoccupied with matters pertaining to business and had been much absent. As soon has she’d heard the news, she insisted that her guests stay for supper, along with a vigorous game of whist afterwards. The ladies were happy to oblige, and a footman was asked to carry a note to Tanglewood, informing Jonathan of their change in plans.
Later that evening, when the ladies at last returned, the gentlemen were ensconced in the library with the doors closed. Cora and Harriett would have popped their heads in to wish them good night if not for the sound of the bailiff’s gruff tones and another voice they did not recognize. Apparently, the men were deep in conversation, and the ladies thought it best not to intrude. Harriett had looked longingly at the doors as she walked past, wishing they would open and reveal a certain lieutenant. One look, a few exchanged words, a smile—that was all she would have needed to direct her thoughts towards sleep.
But the doors hadn’t opened, looks and words had not been exchanged, and Harriett had returned to her bedchamber feeling anxious and out of sorts.
And now she could not sleep.
Was he in the kitchen?
She groaned and rolled to her side. It did not matter if he was. She was a well-bred lady and would not go downstairs. She would not.
The Pursuit of Lady Harriett (Tanglewood Book 3) Page 9