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

Chapter Fifteen

H arriet had spent the afternoon with Joanna.

“It’s madness,” Joanna said. “Not only that, it’s horribly risky and beyond inappropriate. If word gets out—”

“I’m going to visit my great aunt in Cheshire,” Harriet replied. “There’s nothing inappropriate about that.”

“Except for the fact that you don’t have a great aunt in Cheshire.”

“Well, I do now.” Harriet rose from her seat, went to the window, and gazed out across the square. “Five weeks, Jo, and nothing. Not a word to me or to Lord Pendlewood. I have to go. I have to know that he’s all right.”

“Write to him! Tell him you’re worried and ask him to be kind enough to reply.”

“And if he doesn’t reply?”

“Then forget him. He’s not worth it. If he truly cared about you, you’d have heard something by now.”

“Yes, you’re probably right.” Harriet turned back. “But Rees and I will be leaving first thing in the morning anyway, so I’d best be off.”

“You’re impossible.” Joanna got to her feet. “Will you stay for dinner? Lamb is on the menu.”

“Thank you, but no. I want to have an early night.”

“All right, dearest.” Joanna hugged Harriet. “I love you. Be careful. And give your great aunt my best regards.”

The Rose and Crown Inn overlooked the village green of Hawksworth, which in turn lay approximately a mile to the southeast of Goshawk Priory. Though far from opulent, the establishment was nevertheless clean, the beds comfortable, and the food surprisingly good.

Harriet and Rees had arrived at the inn the previous afternoon after an uneventful four-day journey from London. Harriet had secured one of the inn’s better rooms for herself and Rees. That morning, after breakfast, she’d clambered into a carriage for the short drive to Edward’s home.

She gazed out of the carriage window, seeing little of the countryside due to the tall hedgerow that edged the road. Only when passing a farm gate did she catch a glimpse of the meadows beyond. She had the carriage to herself, a questionable triumph not easily achieved. Rees had put up the expected fight, but Harriet had endured, though she’d left the maid at the inn, close to tears.

A lady, whether married or single, Rees argued, simply did not call upon a man unescorted. To do so took the faux pas to a dizzying level of disgrace. But, as Harriet had pointed out, no one knew of her plans. No one even knew who she was. This was rural Cheshire, not Hyde Park. There would be no witnesses of import, which meant no gossip, ergo, no scandal.

Harriet needed to complete the last part of this questionable venture alone. And if anyone had asked her why, she could not have provided a definitive answer.

It was simply a feeling.

She glanced out of the window again to see that the hedgerow had been replaced by an impressive stone wall of similar height, obviously built to mark the boundary of a large estate. Shortly after, the carriage slowed and turned to pass through a stately gateway. The rumbling sound of wheels on an earthen road changed to the familiar crunch of a gravel surface.

The approach to Goshawk Priory, no doubt.

Harriet sat back and closed her eyes, willing her wretched heart to slow down. What if Edward refused to see her? Or what if he consented to see her only to tell her she’d wasted her time? That he felt nothing for her?

Feeling slightly sick, Harriet opened her eyes and leaned forward again, holding her breath at her first glimpse of Goshawk Priory. The sight of it sent a thrill down her spine. Imposing came to mind, as did intriguing and enigmatic —epithets that could equally be applied to the resident viscount.

She regarded the myriad of windows and wondered if he was watching.

The carriage drew to a halt, and a moment later, the footman opened the door. “Mind your step, there, miss,” he said, proffering a gloved hand.

Harriet stepped down at the foot of several wide stone stairs that led up to the main entrance. “Thank you,” she said. “You’ll be sure to wait for me unless I tell you otherwise?”

The man touched his hat in response. “Yes, miss. Don’t worry. We’ll be here.”

She nodded, gathered up her courage and her skirts, and made her way to the main door. The cast-iron replica of a hawk’s head—doubtless representing the bird for which the priory had been named—gazed down at her, daring her to knock. Harriet lifted the hefty metal ring clasped in its beak and rapped it against the door three times.

“Please,” she whispered, clutching her reticule and taking a step back. “Please don’t turn me away.”

Moments later, the door opened to reveal a somewhat elderly footman, who regarded her with a quizzical expression. “Yes, miss?”

“Good morning,” she responded and gave the man her card. “My name is Harriet Hurst, and I’m here to see Lord Eskdale.”

The man frowned. “Is his lordship expecting you?”

“Er, no.” She shook her head. “No, he’s not. It’s a surprise visit.”

“I see.” The man gave a regretful smile. “Then I’m sorry, miss, but the viscount is not currently accepting any visitors.”

“But I’m quite certain he’ll see me,” she replied, feeling not quite certain at all. “We are well acquainted.”

“I’m afraid he will not see anyone at the moment, miss,” the man replied with a shake of his head.

Harriet bit down. The servant expressed himself convincingly, but she had not come this far to be so easily rebuffed. “What is your name?” she demanded.

“My name is Hadwin, miss.”

“Well, Hadwin, I have traveled a very long way to see Lord Eskdale, and I must insist that you announce me.”

His expression softened. “As you wish,” he said, “though I fear it will be of little use. And I’m afraid I must ask you to wait here.”

Harriet gasped. “But you cannot possibly expect—”

The door closed before she could finish. Seeking reassurance, she glanced back at the carriage, where the driver and the footman were chatting between themselves. Surely Edward would not be so offhanded as to refuse her entry after coming all this way.

The answer came minutes later when the door opened once more.

“Lord Eskdale sends his regrets,” Hadwin said, his expression sober, “but he is not accepting visitors at this time.”

Something inside Harriet deflated. “You gave him my card?” she asked.

“I did, miss.”

“And he actually refused to see me?”

The man nodded. “Yes, miss, I’m afraid so.”

“I see.” Harriet smiled as tears warmed her eyes. “Thank you, Hadwin. I thought his lordship might…I mean, I hoped he might have made an exception in my case.”

“I’m very sorry, miss.” He gave her a sympathetic smile and began to close the door.

“Wait!” She swallowed. “Um, how is he?”

The man’s brows lifted. “Miss?”

“Lord Eskdale. Is he quite well?”

Hadwin appeared to ponder for a moment. “The viscount is not in ill health, miss,” he said finally. “He is merely…preoccupied.”

Harriet managed to smile at the tactful response. “That is reassuring. I wonder, since Lord Eskdale will not see me, if you would be kind enough to pass on a message.”

The man gave a nod. “I’d be happy to do that for you, miss.”

Harriet pulled a folded piece of paper from her reticule. “Please give him this. And also, please let him know that, should he change his mind, I’m staying at the Rose and Crown tonight. You may also tell him I’ll be leaving for London in the morning.”

Rees’s cheeks inflated as she blew out a breath. “I can’t believe he refused to see you, miss. You coming all this way and him leaving you standing outside like that. It’s not right. I’d have barged my way in and given him what for.”

“Then it’s just as well I left you here, Rees,” Harriet said, nursing a warm cup of tea in her hand. For the time being, at least, they were the only ones seated in the inn’s cozy parlor, since most of the other guests had moved on that morning. “It could simply be that he wasn’t dressed or prepared for company. I was not expected, after all.” She knew that wasn’t true, that she was grasping at unlikely possibilities.

“In that case, he could have bid you wait while he prettied himself up,” Rees said.

The maid had a point, although Harriet really didn’t want to explore the reasons Edward had refused to see her. His behavior seemed extreme considering the reason behind it. After all, she’d been as unaware as him about the Lyon’s Den game. And besides, it had all been orchestrated with good intentions. Was his pride really that wounded?

“He knows where I am, Rees,” she said, stifling a yawn.

“It would be more fitting for him to come here, certainly,” the maid replied. “So now we wait. Look at you, falling asleep. Why don’t you have a nap? I’ll wake you if his lordship shows up.”

“Mmm, I might, just for a while.” Harriet set her cup down and wondered if Edward had read her note yet. “He knows I’m leaving in the morning.”

“I’m certain he’ll show up before then,” Rees said. “He’d be a fool to let you go.”

Harriet gave a weary sigh. “I fear he’s already let me go. In fact, I can’t help but think I’m here on a fool’s errand. Part of me wishes I’d never gone to the Lyon’s Den to begin with, then none of this would have happened.”

“Ah, now, that’s not Miss Hurst talking,” Rees said. “That’s someone else’s voice. The Miss Hurst I know would never say such things. You love him, don’t you?”

Harriet closed her eyes against another rise of tears. “Yes, I do.”

I think I always have.

“Well, there you are, then. True love is always worth fighting for. He’ll be here before long, I guarantee it.”