The Marquess and the Maiden

by Robyn DeHart

  “That would be terribly annoying,” Harriet said.

  “Then you will do it?”

  “I didn’t say that. I was merely agreeing with your statement.” She shook her head. “Though I can’t imagine why any woman would cry because you entered the room.”

  “There are those who find me frightening.”

  “Do you occasionally strike people with your cane?”

  Had he not seen the mirth in her eyes, he would have believed the question to be a serious one. “Not unless their behavior warrants it.”

  She smiled. “Then there is no reason for people to fear you. We simply need to show them that fact.”

  “Do you have thoughts on how we can do that?” Perhaps this meant she was considering his offer. His heart ticked faster at the thought of spending more time in her presence.

  “Well, for one, you could cease your incessant scowling. Try smiling at people. You’d be surprised how far a well-placed smile can get you.”

  “I’m not good at smiling at people for no reason. Particularly people I don’t know or like.”

  “Then you should practice. You will become good at it.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  She glanced at him and bestowed him with such a genuine smile that he nearly forgot to breathe. Then she added, “I don’t like you, yet I am able to smile at you. Through practice.”

  She blinked up at him with such innocent eyes, it took him a moment to catch the meaning of her words. Then he nearly laughed.

  If only he didn’t enjoy her company so much.

  She was so pretty it was uncomfortable to look at her, as she reminded him of how things might have proceeded in his life had he not had the accident. Before that, even penniless, he could have had his pick of the marriageable women in this town. Now, though, it would take more than his considerable fortune. People moved away when he walked into a room, cleared a path. People flinched at the sound of his cane on the floor until it echoed so loudly it was the only sound.

  Granted, before the accident, he would have been married to Catherine. He wondered how long it would have taken for him to discover her true nature. How many lovers would she have had before he’d caught her? While he’d never be thankful for the fall that had broken his body, he was thankful he’d managed to escape without marrying her.

  “Will you help me?”

  “If I agree to do this for you…you will do something for me in return?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I do not wish to be beholden to anyone. What is it that you want?”

  She paused as if considering, then leveled her aquamarine gaze on him. “I want you to stop being so insatiable with your purchasing. Stop spending money on frivolous things. You could give a sizeable amount to charity and do so much good.”

  He crossed one arm over his chest and braced it on his other arm. “How is it that you know so much of what I do with my money? And why does it matter to you?”

  “It is ostentatious, not to mention obnoxious. There are so many in the world who have nothing. For those of us who have been blessed with much, it is our duty, nay, responsibility, to share with those less fortunate.”

  He tapped his cane on the ground lightly a few times, in essence applauding her. “Well done, Lady Harriet. Tell me, is that a rehearsed speech you give to all of the wealthy lords in town?”

  Her eyes narrowed into a glare. “No. As best I can tell you are the only lord in town who wastes his money so flagrantly. Not to mention you are continually accruing more and more funds. When will it ever be enough?”

  Insatiable. She wasn’t wrong. Her anger caused her breathing to speed up, which in turn made her bosom heave quite provocatively. Pink stained her cheeks and throat, and her rosebud lips parted in exasperation.

  Her last question echoed through him. It would never be enough, he knew that. But there was no reason to inform her of that fact. His father had depleted their funds, had sold off two of the properties that had been in their family for generations, all to pay his damned gambling debts. His mother had had to wear old faded gowns that her friends had given her after they’d worn them for a season. Harriet’s mother being the most generous of them.

  Harriet had never lacked for anything in her life. She did not know what it was like to wonder if there was enough money to pay for food, let alone new clothing or servants. She couldn’t possibly understand.

  Besides, there were still a few remaining wrongs of his father’s that he had yet to right. “There must be something else you want from me.”

  “Then you refuse to stop spending money on ridiculous luxuries?”

  “I do.” He couldn’t deny that her righteous indignation was charming, not to mention entertaining. Or perhaps he’d stayed away from Society so long he’d forgotten how civilized interactions could be. He nearly laughed at that. No, this fascination was for her alone. The thought should have sent him bolting from the room. Yet, he found himself waiting for the next words that would pass from her beautiful mouth.

  Her eyes narrowed in focus.

  He’d offer something specific, but he doubted any of his skills would come to her aid. Unless she needed a room redesigned or something designed and built. But she lived in her brother’s townhome and his future wife would make such decisions.

  “It would seem, my lord, that we are at an impasse. Do let me know if you change your mind.” She curtsied. “Good evening.” Then she strode away, leaving him to do nothing but watch her backside sway beneath the layers of her purple gown.

  …

  Harriet walked idly next to Agnes, along with two other members of the Ladies of Virtue, Justine and Matilda. The Crystal Palace had been open for nearly two months, and there had been a slight uptick in petty thievery. So the four of them were here to watch and see if they could catch any of the thieves in the process.

  She had been here once before, the week it opened, and she’d been desperate to return. Trying to discover any would-be criminals here might prove an act in futility for her, as there was simply too much of interest to look upon. The building alone, all glass and iron, was mesmerizing and stunning.

  Justine and Tilly made their way to the back of the palace to observe the displays there. A divide and conquer plan, Harriet supposed.

  The Crystal Palace boasted so many exhibits and antiquities, it was difficult to know where to look first. Everything was divided up into “courts” and featured elements from different cultures and times in history. Harriet was fond of the Greek court as well as the Roman court, but everything was thrilling to look upon. Unfortunately, today she was here to work, and could not spend as much time devoted to exploring the varying types of architecture and art.

  She caught sight of a familiar figure across the nave, and her heart stuttered. It had been more than a week since she’d last seen Lord Davenport, a week since he’d asked her to find him a wife, all the while seeming to flirt with her. A week since he had complimented her figure, even though she knew very well from their encounter years ago that he found her unappealing. Whatever had he meant by acting that way? The entire ordeal had been maddening.

  She’d scarcely thought of anything else in the time between. The way his eyes had scorched over her skin, how he’d mentioned her curves. Even now, the memory of those words warmed her from the inside. He was here, standing not too far away from her. Thankfully, though, he hadn’t seen her yet.

  She grabbed onto Agnes’s arm and pulled her inside one of the displays.

  “Harriet,” Agnes said. “I was watching someone.”

  “I want to look at this display.” But instead she peeked in between the shelves to see if the tall, imposing figure of Lord Davenport was still there. Thankfully he had moved elsewhere. She sagged in relief, turned swiftly, and fell straight into a hard wall of black wool. A large hand came up to grip her elbow and hold her steady.

  “Lady Harriet,” he said, amusement etched in his voice.

  She looked up at him, willing herself no
t to be affected by the wintery glint of his silver-blue eyes. It didn’t work. She sucked in a breath. And then realized both of her hands rested against his hard-as-marble chest. She stepped away.

  “I see you still haven’t shaved,” she said.

  Agnes appeared at her side. “Harriet, it is not becoming to mention such things to a gentleman.” She curtsied. “Lord Davenport.”

  He inclined his head. “Lady Agnes, pleasure to see you again.” His eyes went back to Harriet.

  She did her best to ignore the thundering in her chest, but his gaze was so unsettling. Her skin prickled beneath his assessment, and she was all too aware of the way her striped muslin day gown molded to her bodice.

  His eyes took in the length of her. “You look—”

  She held up her hand to stop him. “Please say nothing about the way I look. Or my clothes. I am not in the mood and don’t quite feel up to your mockery.”

  He nodded, then turned to face Agnes. “Lady Agnes,” he said. “Would you be so kind as to walk behind us so that I might have a conversation with Lady Harriet?”

  Agnes eyed Harriet and when she gave her friend a nod, Agnes agreed. She was the perfect sort of chaperone, not that Harriet actually required a chaperone, as no man had ever tried to take any liberties with her. Then again, aside from dancing with gentlemen, none of them sought her attention. But Agnes would be more aware of her duties to the Ladies of Virtue than she would in protecting Harriet. Of course, they were also surrounded by fellow Londoners, so there was no actual privacy.

  He held his free arm out to her so she could grab onto his elbow. Then he led with his cane and began to walk. They strolled in silence for a while, and Harriet found herself relaxing in the quiet camaraderie between them.

  She passed several people she knew and spoke to those close by and waved to the others. Lord Davenport walked quietly beside her. She couldn’t help but notice on more than one occasion, she got a strange expression when people recognized her companion.

  “Do you still wish for my assistance in finding a wife?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  “Have you resigned yourself to cease spending so frivolously?”

  “No, quite the contrary. Just this morning I commissioned a new stable to Brookhaven, and the work is nearly complete in my indoor shower for my townhome. I already have a larger version at the estate, but seeing as I’m in London more often, it seemed fitting I install one here as well.”

  “I’ve heard of those. They’re exceptionally expensive and such an unnecessary indulgence.”

  He tapped his cane on his bad leg. “’Tis nearly impossible to lower myself into a tub.” He shrugged. “The shower is much easier for me.”

  He wasn’t shaming her, not intentionally; still she felt the sting in her cheeks. Perhaps not all expenses were merely for luxury. She wasn’t quite certain how to recover from such a thing.

  “I didn’t realize he could be charming,” Agnes said as Lord Davenport walked away.

  “He was far more charming today than he has been of late.” Not to mention his blunt cruelty to her six years ago, but she had never told Agnes about that night. There was no need to bring it up now.

  “Do you suspect he’ll seek permission to court you?” Agnes asked.

  Harriet swiveled her head so abruptly to look at her friend she nearly dislocated something. “What would give you that notion?”

  Agnes shrugged. “He seems rather taken with you.”

  Harriet snorted. “He enjoys tormenting me.” He did not want her. He’d told her as much.

  Her friend stared at her with those unsettling eyes of hers. “Perhaps I misread the situation.”

  “You obviously did. He has asked me to assist him in finding a bride.”

  Agnes nodded as if this were an excellent use of Harriet’s time. “And are you going to help him?”

  “Not unless I can get him to agree to cease his extravagant spending. It’s quite obnoxious. That is the bargain I offered.”

  “He is not cooperating with your attempts to rid him of his deadly sin?”

  “Obviously.” She had, quite deliberately, suggested the entire scenario for specifically that reason. Yet another secret she would keep from Agnes.

  “He has refused to cease his greedy ways?”

  “Yes. He says eventually I’ll want something else from him. Something I’m willing to trade.”

  “Fascinating,” Agnes murmured.

  But Harriet refused to take the bait. She would not even entertain the idea that Lord Davenport wanted anything more than to torment her.

  “If it makes you feel any better, Lord Wakefield is not too keen on being rehabilitated, either.”

  Harriet chuckled. “Men. They are a stubborn lot.”

  Chapter Four

  Harriet sat next to Agnes and several other members of the Ladies of Virtue waiting in Lady Somersby’s parlor. Iris was notably missing.

  “This must be about the article,” Agnes said quietly.

  They had both been at Iris’s house only the day before when Lady Somersby had come by to discuss a certain article that had been printed about their organization. It didn’t list names, didn’t give any details as to who might be involved, but it did clearly announce that somewhere in the city there were proper ladies fighting crime.

  Though it wasn’t directly Iris’s fault, her involvement with Lord Ashby had led him to investigate their group. Lady Somersby had not been pleased. Iris was distraught. Panic crept up Harriet’s throat as if someone’s hand choked her. The Ladies of Virtue was so vital to her personal happiness.

  She didn’t have suitors or a husband as the other women did. She wasn’t creative and clever the way Agnes was with her weaponry designs. No, for Harriet, her life had been intended for her to marry well and be the perfect little wife. When she’d failed to accomplish that, she’d thrown herself fully into her group and without it, she had nothing. She was nothing.

  “What do you suppose she’ll do?” Harriet asked.

  They didn’t have to wait to find out, as that moment Lady Somersby swept into the room, followed by Lord Somersby. He was a giant of a man, broad and muscular and handsome enough in the middle of his fourth decade that Harriet suspected that in his prime he’d been the epitome of male beauty. He leaned against the fireplace, his large arms crossed over his chest.

  “This isn’t going to be a long meeting,” Lady Somersby said. “Nor will it be a pleasant one.”

  Murmurs filled the room, followed by an uncomfortable silence.

  “Our group has been compromised,” Lady Somersby said. “I’m certain many of you have seen the article printed about us. Though we weren’t named, nor our identities revealed, it is safe to assume that people will be watching and wanting to play detective to see if they can uncover the truth.”

  Lord Somersby had still not spoken, but his gaze swept across the room. Harriet got the strange impression he was watching them. She elbowed Agnes, then shifted her eyes to silently communicate to her friend. Agnes glanced his way, and her jaw tightened. He never attended their meetings, though on occasion he had stopped by at the end to kiss his wife’s cheek and nod to the rest of them.

  “Therefore,” Lady Somersby continued, “it has become clear to me that in order to keep us all safe, we must end our activities effective immediately.”

  Shock echoed through the room in everyone’s gasps and collective nos.

  “We will still meet here weekly and do what everyone believes we do, put all of our efforts into our charitable duties. But as of right now, there will be no more training, no more guarding the streets or seeking out crimes to tend to.”

  “How long?” someone from the back row asked.

  “Until we know the identity of Lady X, at the very earliest,” Lady Somersby said. “In addition, we’ll be calling each of you in separately to ask some questions in hopes of resolving this as soon as possible.”

  Did that mean they suspected Lady X was a
member of their group? Or was it merely that they wanted to see if anyone knew anything that could assist in the investigation?

  “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have another engagement we must depart for,” Lady Somersby continued. “Please enjoy the tea and cakes, and you’re still welcome to play cards.”

  Harriet saw the red rings around Lady Somersby’s eyes, the faint shake of her hands. She was just as distraught about this as they were.

  “This is quite obviously Iris’s fault,” Patricia said. “She’s been spending a scandalous amount of time with that Lord Ashby. And then this story gets printed in his gossip rag. That doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me.”

  “She should have known he was not to be trusted,” Marion said. “This is likely why she didn’t even have the courage to show her face today.”

  “She is our friend,” Harriet said. The friend who always stood up for Harriet when others were cruel. Harriet whipped around to face the other women. Patricia and Marion had never been Harriet’s favorite people. She’d been reluctant when they’d been recruited. Still she had to admit that they had their useful skills. “This is not Iris’s fault.”

  Agnes pressed a hand to Harriet’s arm. “It isn’t worth it.”

  “Well, of course you would say that,” Patricia said. “But consider what Iris’s selfishness and recklessness have cost all of us.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “We were doing good in this town, making a difference, and now it must all come to an end.”

  “Because of Lady X, not Iris,” Harriet fumed. “We should be doing everything we can to uncover her identity, not blame one of our own.”

  “Lady X could be one of our own,” Agnes said.

  Marion sucked in a breath as if she hadn’t even considered such a thing.

  “Ladies,” Lady Somersby interjected. “There is nothing more that can be done today. Suffice it to say there are still people in this town who will do what they can to keep the rest of us safe.” She glanced warmly at her husband. “For now, we are not part of that. And blaming one another does not help.”