Christopher let her go, knowing from many years of experience with his sisters that if he tried to say anything more, he would only worsen matters. Other gentlemen might know how to soften Harriett’s heart, but Christopher didn’t. He knew how to tease and prod and make light of situations, but when that fell short, so did he.
THE MOMENT WATTS SPIED Harriett in her disheveled state, he sent for Tabby, who fretted and fussed all the way up to Harriett’s bedchamber. More servants came bearing warm water for a hot bath, and Sally, the housekeeper, soon appeared with a tray filled with the most delicious tea and an assortment of sweet rolls.
The servants’ kindness was a balm to Harriett’s bruised heart, and she luxuriated in the blessed feeling of being looked after. When at last she left her room, she felt cleaner, warmer, and refreshed. But that did not mean she was anxious to speak with the lieutenant again. She took her time walking down the long hallway, her troubled thoughts drifting in his direction. Why did he always seem to find her humiliation a source of amusement? Yes, he had been good enough to pull her from the pond and place his coat around her shoulders, but that was the extent of his kindness. He had not bothered to inquire about her welfare or even apologize for his failure to mention that his horse did not care for whips.
His actions, or lack thereof, had injured her. During the chilling ride back to the manor, she had come to the unhappy realization that she craved more from Lieutenant Jamison than flippancy and invigorating conversation. She wanted him to care about her and show her some concern—genuine concern. But was he capable of such sentiments?
Harriett had no answer to that. She only knew that she wanted him to be capable of it.
When she reached the stairs, she slid her fingers across the smooth and satiny banister as she descended slowly. Voices reached her ears, originating from the drawing room, and she paused to listen. Had Cora and Jonathan returned?
“No bedchambers available?” came an unfamiliar feminine voice, followed by light laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous, Christopher. In a house as large as this, of course there are rooms to spare. Why wouldn’t there be? Or is there a house party in progress that you have neglected to mention?”
A heavy sigh sounded. “No, Mother,” came Chris’s voice. The mere sound of it set Harriett’s heart to pounding, but she was quick to push it aside as another thought took over. His mother was here?
Intrigued, Harriett quietly descended a few more stairs and leaned over the banister to better hear the conversation.
“One would think you did not want us here,” came a deeper voice. His father’s, perhaps? How very interesting.
“Of course he wants us here,” his mother insisted. “He wouldn’t dare to think otherwise, would you, darling?”
“No, Mother,” Chris said again. “I only meant to say that since you did not see fit to send word that you were coming, no rooms have been made ready.”
“But your father did send a note ahead, did you not, my love?”
“Er…”
Harriett had to stifle a giggle. She really should not eavesdrop, but this conversation was proving most diverting.
Christopher’s mother didn’t seem at all put out by her husband’s lapse. “No matter. We are here now, and Jonathan is an old and dear friend. I’m certain he will see to the arrangements as soon as he returns. But if you truly think we are imposing, your father and I can easily settle in at the inn in town.”
“Of course you are not imposing,” said Chris, the disgruntled tone of his voice contradicting his words.
His mother seemed to pay it no mind. “Yes, I’m quite certain you are right. Now sit down, dearest, and tell me all about this lovely lady who has set her cap at you. Where is she, by the by? I own, I am most anxious to make her acquaintance.”
Harriett wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. She frowned. A young lady had set her cap at Chris? Surely not. As far as Harriett knew, the only unmarried lady the lieutenant knew in Askern was herself, and his mother couldn’t possibly think that—
The front door opened, and in walked Watts. He stood aside to allow Cora and Jonathan entrance as well.
“I put them in the drawing room and directed Sally to ready two rooms as quickly as possible,” Watts explained.
“Thank you,” answered Cora. She was the first to spy Harriett on the stairs, and her brow furrowed in confusion.
Harriett immediately straightened, realizing how odd she must look leaning over the banister.
“Hello, Harriett,” said Jonathan, his mouth twitching. “Are you quite comfortable?”
“Quite,” she responded as she quickly walked down the remainder of the stairs, trying her best not to blush.
Jonathan snickered and Watts cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Lady Harriett, for not being here to introduce you to our recently arrived guests. The rest of the staff is occupied at the moment, and when I spied Lord and Lady Jonathan’s carriage approaching, I went out to meet them.”
Harriett waved his concerns aside. “No apologies necessary, Watts. I have only just come down.”
Cora stripped off her gloves and laid them on a table. “You probably know this already, but Mr. and Mrs. Jamison have arrived from London and are awaiting us in the drawing room. Would you care to join us?”
“I would love to,” Harriett answered honestly. After what she’d heard, she’d very much like to meet Chris’s parents and discover more about this mystery woman who’d supposedly set her cap at their son.
As they walked into the room, the lieutenant stood immediately, appearing nervous. The glance he directed at Harriett could only be described as wary. Was he worried about her reaction after this morning’s debacle, or did his wariness have more to do with what she may or may not have overheard?
Only time would tell.
Harriett turned her attention to his parents, noting that Chris shared his mother’s blonde locks and his father’s height and regal bearing, though neither parent had his stormy gray eyes. His father’s were a nondescript green and his mother’s a slightly darker version, like the color of moss. The pair made a handsome couple—Mr. Jamison, with his dark, windswept hair, and Mrs. Jamison, with her lovely high cheekbones, curls about her face, and bright smile. They didn’t seem at all stuffy, which made Harriett like them even more.
Jonathan greeted Mrs. Jamison with a kiss to her hand. “How good it is to see you again, Mrs. Jamison. It has been too long.”
“Far too long,” she answered.
“I must say, you have a fine estate here, Jonathan,” Mr. Jamison inserted.
“It is good of you to say as much, sir,” Jonathan said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of directing my staff to bring in your luggage. Sally has been overseeing your rooms and will alert us the moment they are ready for you. In the meantime, may I introduce my wife, Lady Jonathan Ludlow, and our dear friend, Lady Harriett Cavendish? She will be with us for the remainder of the month, at which point she is to meet her mother in London.”
Mrs. Jamison dropped into a respectful curtsy, and when she rose, her gaze lingered on Harriett before returning to her host. “Pray forgive us for descending on you so unexpectedly, Jonathan. When Christopher wrote to us about the lovely time he has been having here at Tanglewood, we simply had to come and see you again. We are honored to make your acquaintance, Lady Jonathan, and Lady Harriett, it is a pleasure to meet you as well. You are every bit as breathtaking as Christopher described in his letter.”
Breathtaking? Harriett directed an inquiring glance at Chris, only to see him grimace and touch his fingers to his brow as though he felt a headache coming on.
She smiled as she looked back to his mother. “How kind you are, Mrs. Jamison, and how happy I am to make your acquaintance as well. But are you certain you did not mistake ‘breathtaking’ for… lively or interesting?”
“Oh yes, quite certain.” Much to Harriett’s surprise, Mrs. Jamison reached out to clasp her hands as though they were already the dearest of friends. �
�Forgive me, my lady, but I have heard enough about you that I feel as though we are already acquainted. Will you not come and sit with me a moment? I would love to speak with you.”
Chris materialized at Harriett’s side and took his mother’s hands in his own. “Mother, you have had a long and tiring journey. Wouldn’t you prefer to take tea in your bedchamber and rest a little before dinner? There will be plenty of time for a cozy chat later on.”
Mrs. Jamison patted her son on the arm, directing her remarks to Harriett. “Such a dear boy. He is always so concerned for my well being. At one point I was certain he was destined for the church.”
Harriett nearly snickered at that but managed to swallow it down. “Perhaps he still is,” she said. “He’s quite adept at sermons and reading from the Bible.”
His mother appeared surprised by this news. “Is that true?”
“Lady Harriett is only teasing me, Mother.” He shot her a stern look, daring her to refute him.
She smiled. “I do enjoy teasing him on occasion. But you are indeed lucky to have such a… thoughtful son.”
Watts entered the room and whispered a few words in Jonathan’s ear. A moment later, Jonathan announced that the rooms had been made ready and Mr. and Mrs. Jamison were free to retire whenever they wished.
“I must admit that some rest would do me a great deal of good,” said Mr. Jamison. “The inn we stayed at last night left much to be desired in the way of comfort. Shall we go up, my dear?”
His wife hesitated only a moment before nodding. “I shall see you later,” she told Harriett, giving her hand a gentle pat.
“Jonathan and I would be honored to show you to your rooms,” said Cora, sneaking a curious look at Harriett, no doubt wondering about the odd exchange.
Harriett had no answer for her. She could only smile and give a slight shrug, thinking she would very much like to have a cozy chat with Chris at the moment.
Once the foursome had exited the room, Watts positioned himself just outside the open doors, close enough to act as a chaperone and far enough away to allow them a private word. Harriett had to admit that she was developing a great fondness for the man’s kindness and tact. Not for the first time, she thought that Chris could learn a great deal from the butler.
Harriett sank down onto a cream brocade chair and turned her attention to Chris, who appeared even more wary than before judging by the way he could neither stand still nor meet her gaze. She clasped her hands in her lap, waiting for him to begin what she hoped would be an enlightening conversation.
After a few moments, he lowered his handsome frame to the sofa nearest to where she sat and pasted a smile on his rugged face. “You do not seem to have suffered any lasting damage from this morning’s adventures. In fact, you look quite… lovely.”
The compliment lost a great deal in its delivery, and Harriett shook her head slightly before leveling him with a no-nonsense stare. “Only lovely?” she asked. “Not… breathtaking?”
“I, er…”
“Sir, please tell me that I am not the unnamed woman who has purportedly set her cap at you.”
His eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I did not write those exact words.”
“Only implied them?” she guessed.
He shifted uncomfortably, still avoiding her gaze. “I may have said something to the effect of…”
When he did not continue, Harriett leaned forward. “The effect of what, Lieutenant?”
He glanced at her briefly before clearing his throat. “I may have implied that you were… pursuing me.” The last two words came out in a rush as though he did not want them to be understood. But Harriett had understood them perfectly.
Her eyes widened, and she sat back slowly, staring at him. Was he in earnest? Had he truly told his parents that she was pursuing him? She had no response to that. She was… speechless.
“It was not a lie,” he said. “At the time I penned that letter, you were pursuing me.”
“I beg your pardon.” A great many words were flowing into her head now, none of them very ladylike.
“Yes, the way one might pursue an enemy.”
She glared at him. “From your mother’s reaction to me just now, you obviously did not convey your meaning with any sort of clarity, sir.”
“No,” he admitted, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I did not.”
“Would you care to explain why?”
“Not really, no.” He let out a haggard breath and dropped his head against the back of the sofa, lifting his gaze to the ceiling. After a time, he dragged his body forward once more and rested his elbows on his knees. For the first time since she had known him, she saw what appeared to be humility creasing the corners of his eyes.
He drew in a deep breath and began telling her about his family’s straitened circumstances, about his youthful avoidance of all things responsible, and about his reasons for going to war. He told her about what he’d learned, what he’d gained, and what responsibilities awaited him upon his return. Harriett learned of his promise to marry, the reason he’d come to Askern to visit an old friend, and finally, the plan he and Jonathan had hatched to keep his mother at bay.
The conversation proved most enlightening and not in a good way. His parents had taken their son at his word, and were now at Tanglewood, intent on meeting the lady who had been “pursuing” their son.
In the end, Harriett didn’t know what to feel. Pity? Annoyance? Frustration? Anger? While she understood why he had done what he had, he had placed her in an uncomfortable and precarious position. That alone should have angered her. But she did not feel angry, exactly, not when he appeared so… worried. The man who sat before her was no longer the arrogant and invincible Lieutenant Jamison who had first appeared on Tanglewood’s doorstep. He was merely a man.
“I know that I have no right to ask this of you,” he said, “but if you can bring yourself to… feign an interest in me, at least until Jonathan and I have concluded our business, I’ll…”
When he did not continue, Harriett lifted an eyebrow. “You will what, Lieutenant?”
His brow furrowed, and a genuine sadness crossed his features. “I wish you would call me Chris.”
“Why? Because it will make this”—she gestured from her to him—“pretense between us more believable?”
“No.” He leaned forward and peered at her with an intensity she had never before seen in him. “Right now it is just you and me, Harriett. No pretense whatsoever.”
Harriett wasn’t quite sure what to make of his words—or anything, really. She only knew that his parents seemed like good people and it would be cruel to deceive them. “Let us say that I agree to participate in this little sham of yours. What will happen in a week or two when you have concluded your business here? What will you tell your parents then?”
He gave the matter some thought before shrugging. “That you came to your senses and realized I could never be worthy of you.”
Harriett nodded slowly, not liking that scenario at all. “So I will become a cold-hearted flirt capable of crushing your heart and their dreams?”
“Would you prefer for me to conclude that you are not worthy of me?” A slight smile tugged at his lips with the suggestion.
Her gaze narrowed. “No. I would prefer that you explain to them right now why you have misled them.”
His smile faded, and he sighed, raking his fingers through his hair and causing more of it to fall across his forehead. When his eyes met hers again, they conveyed a deep emotion that she couldn’t decipher. “You are right. I should explain, and I will… eventually. But can we not wait another week? The fact of the matter is that I have not seen my mother this happy in ages. It’s as though she has been freed from a heavy burden, and my father as well. I am loathe to take that away from them, at least for the time being.”
Harriett felt a tug on her heart and considered his appeal to her emotions vastly un
fair. Why should this be her burden to carry? She didn’t wish to bring his parents pain anymore than he did, but how could deceiving them be a good idea when the truth would surface eventually?
“Will it not worsen matters to wait?” she asked.
“I don’t believe so,” he said, his eyes pleading with hers. “Ten days, Harriett, and I swear to you I will tell them the truth. In the meantime, I beg you to let them bask in their happiness while I help Jonathan acquire his land. As soon as I have accomplished that, I will behave in a boorish, unforgivable manner, and you can administer a stinging slap to my face and proclaim that you never wish to see me again. Would that be an agreeable ending to our ruse?”
Harriett lifted an eyebrow. “By ‘boorish,’ do you mean that you will splatter me with mud, laugh when a bird ruins my pelisse, and allow me to be thrown from your horse? If so, I ought to administer a stinging slap to you now.”
“Touché.” He smiled. “Perhaps it would be better to promise that I will do my best to not behave boorishly from now until then.”
Harriett pressed her lips together, wondering how they had reached the point where she was actually considering going along with his ridiculous scheme. Would they really be doing both his parents and Jonathan a service by feigning a romantic interest in each other? It seemed ludicrous, yet…
Harriett closed her eyes and shook her head, not knowing what to say.
Christopher slid to the edge of the sofa and took hold of one of her hands. His touch sent delightful sensations up her arm and into her chest, where they knocked on the door of her heart. She studied his handsome face, wondering if she dared to let him in.
“Please, Harriett,” he said softly. “I will do anything.”
Attempting to ignore her thumping heart, she swallowed. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
As she continued to study him, it occurred to her that she finally had Lieutenant Jamison where she’d wanted him all along—at her mercy—and that was a very good feeling. The fact of the matter was that ten days was not so very long, was it? And at the end of it all, if the lieutenant was willing to give Harriett a valid reason for disliking him, would it really be so bad? Would the Jamisons be more saddened to learn the truth at a later date than they would now?
The Pursuit of Lady Harriett (Tanglewood Book 3) Page 12