Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Fourteen

H arriet had lain awake most of the night, fallen asleep just before dawn, and consequently risen later than usual. She now sat in the front parlor, drinking coffee, nibbling toast, and going over the dramatic events of the previous day for the umpteenth time.

How many times in one’s life did a dream actually come true? She could still hardly grasp the reality of it. Edward had professed feelings for her. It had not exactly been an expression of love, but then, he’d never been one for flowery language.

Besides, his kiss had said what his voice had not.

She wondered how Varley had taken the news. His recent hints at having feelings for her had seemed sincere. But it no longer mattered. She could never have loved him. She loved Edward.

She had only ever loved Edward.

A shiver of excitement traveled over her flesh. She couldn’t wait to tell Joanna about everything. She’d already sent a note.

A tap came to the door. “You have a caller, Miss Hurst.” Yates approached, and Harriet took the card from the salver, frowning as she read it. Lord Pendlewood?

Yates cleared his throat. “His lordship delivered the card personally, miss,” he said. “He’s waiting in the foyer and asks if he might see you immediately.”

Personally?

A touch of apprehension wormed its way beneath Harriet’s ribs. “Yes, of course, Yates. Show Lord Pendlewood in.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and then rose, brushing crumbs from her skirts. What could the earl want with her? For certain, this was not a cordial visit.

He stepped through the door moments later, leaving it open. Though they had never been formally introduced, she had seen him previously at society events. A handsome man, he wore his blond hair a little longer than fashion dictated. And though not as tall as Edward, he had similar physical lines, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. He looked tired, she thought. Troubled.

“My lord.” Harriet dipped into a deep curtsy. “Welcome to my home, though I cannot begin to imagine what has brought you here. May I offer you some refreshment?”

He bowed. “Thank you for seeing me, Miss Hurst. And no, no refreshment, thank you. I will sit, however, if I may.”

Was it her imagination, or did the earl look uneasy? Harriet gestured to a chair. “Please do, my lord.”

He sat, looked down at the carpet for a moment, and then raised his gaze to meet hers. “First, Miss Hurst, let me assure you that the news I bring pertaining to Lord Eskdale does not include any reports of illness or physical injury. The man is, as far as I know, hale.”

“Lord Eskdale?” An icy chill wrapped around Harriet’s heart. “Then what news do you bring, my lord? What has happened?”

He cleared his throat. “Lord Eskdale left London last night, Miss Hurst. Even as we speak, he is on his way to Cheshire. To Goshawk.”

Some of her fear faded, but questions arose in her head, tripping over themselves. “Why? Is he…? I mean, has an urgent matter arisen?”

“No, no urgent matter, but there has been a misunderstanding.”

Harriet gave her head a hesitant shake. “Forgive me, my lord, but I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. At least, not entirely.” He heaved a weary sigh. “Your recent introduction to Mr. Varley was arranged, Miss Hurst.”

“Yes, I know, my lord,” Harriet said, “but that association is now over.”

“Forgive me, I was not clear. By arranged, I mean Mr. Varley was playing a role, acting, following orders. He was a decoy. Part of a game. You and Lord Eskdale were also part of this game. A game played with the best of intentions, I might add.” He frowned. “But it seems it has not ended well.”

“A game.” Harriet pressed her fingers to her temple, where a slight throb of pain had arisen. “Forgive me, I don’t understand. What kind of game?”

Lord Pendlewood raked a hand through his hair. “I will tell you all from start to finish, Miss Hurst,” he said, “because, by God, I need to unburden myself of this damnable situation. I’ve known Lord Eskdale for several years. I’ve always liked the man and paid little attention to the rumor and speculation that followed him around. I saw something in him that many others did not. Potential. Wasted potential. And in my arrogance, I thought I could do something about it. I thought I could fix it. Fix him. What he needed, I decided, was a wife. Someone to settle him down and give him purpose. So I went to see Bessie Dove-Lyon at the Lyon’s Den.”

Harriet said nothing as Lord Pendlewood described the subsequent events. The conspiracy, the game, the players, herself included. As it all played out like a plot in a book, she guessed what the ending would be and prayed she was wrong.

“Last night, Varley told Lord Eskdale the truth, that he’d been manipulated into a relationship with you,” Lord Pendlewood said, “and he was furious. He came to see me to tell me he was leaving London. Going home, to Goshawk. He asked that I inform you of his leaving and the reason for it. I’m so sorry, Miss Hurst. I swear, this was not at all what we envisaged.”

Harriet swallowed over the tightness in her throat. Despite all Lord Pendlewood had said, only two questions needed answers. She asked the first. “But he will be coming back, yes?”

“Eventually, I’m sure,” Lord Pendlewood replied. “But I couldn’t say when. In this case, I suspect he’ll be gone for a while. I’m afraid the man has a habit of running away from his problems.”

The second question was perhaps inappropriate, but she didn’t care. “Have I lost him, my lord?”

The man smiled. “No, Miss Hurst, I don’t think so. He asked me to keep an eye on you. It was the last thing he said to me before he left.”

Tears arose in Harriet’s eyes as she grasped onto the measure of hope contained in Lord Pendlewood’s words.

Yates appeared in the doorway. “Lady Shipley is here, Miss Hurst. She has been informed that you have company. Shall I send her in?”

Befuddled, Harriet merely nodded her assent.

Lord Pendlewood rose to his feet, prompting Harriet to do the same. “I shall not intrude on your time any longer, Miss Hurst,” he said. “There is, however, something I would like from you before I go. I pray it is not asking too much.”

“Of course, my lord. What is it?”

“Your forgiveness.”

Harriet smiled. “There is nothing to forgive, my lord. I went to the Lyon’s Den, hoping for a successful match, fully aware of the risks involved. I have no doubt you did the same. I cannot say I approve of what you did, but I realize you meant well, as did Mrs. Dove-Lyon. Besides, if I hadn’t gone, I would never have met Lord Eskdale.”

“Lord Pendlewood!” Joanna all but waltzed into the room and dropped a perfect curtsy. “What a pleasant surprise. The carriage outside has no crest, so I had no idea who Miss Hurst’s mysterious visitor was.”

“Lady Shipley.” Lord Pendlewood bowed. “It’s a pleasure to see you. And traveling incognito serves to protect Miss Hurst from gossip and speculation. And myself as well, in truth.”

“Ah.” Brow raised, she regarded Harriet. “Is gossip and speculation warranted?”

Harriet gasped. “Jo!”

Lord Pendlewood laughed. “Miss Hurst and I had some business to discuss, but I must now take my leave. If you are in need of anything, Miss Hurst, please do not hesitate to let me know.”

“I would appreciate some news, my lord,” she said, “if you happen to hear any.”

“Of course.” He bowed, prompting curtsies in return. “Good day, ladies.”

Joanna waited till he’d left, and then turned wide eyes to Harriet. “Harri, what the hell is going on?”

Perhaps it was simply fatigue. Harriet had hardly slept a wink, after all. But most likely it was due to the fact that, not even an hour before, she’d held a future in her hands that she’d only ever dreamed of. Now it had gone, blown away like a leaf on a breeze. Whatever the reason, she could no longer fight the agonizing pain of disappointment.

She dropped her head in her hands and wept.