Chapter Ten
She found her maid in the dressing room placing a freshly pressed gown aside from the other ones.
“I’m going to wear something different. My cousin has a guest and evidently, he has an eye for me. I’m simply going to make him wish he hadn’t.”
“Which one would you prefer, milady?”
Harriet pointed to the orange dress sitting in the corner. “That orange one. My mother agreed it was too childish for me and had it redone.”
“It certainly is ugly.”
Harriet grinned. That was exactly what sort of reaction she hoped to gain. “It is that.”
The dress left moments later in the maid’s arms and on its way to be ironed. Sighing, Harriet began looking for a shawl and shoes to wear. She would wear minimal make up. Her hair would deliberately be an unflattering look. Something a woman thirty years her senior might wear.
Walking out of the dressing room, Harriet found her diary and sat down at the desk to begin writing how her day had transpired, which had been most importantly her day in the park with Lucien and Onyx’s dreadful fall. The day certainly had been eventful.
Keeping a diary was one of the best things her mother instilled in her. Later, her tutor, Miss Black encouraged her as well. Both women said one day she could go back and read older journals and recall what was going on at the time and what her feelings were about it.
She wrote about her afternoon with Lucien and their ride in the park.
Every minute detail was remembered and added.
Onyx’s accident and how both she and Lucien thought the incident was intentional.
They’d both seen figures run off from the scene, but their attention was focused on the stallion.
He’d come down hard, landing on his knees.
They were a bloody mess, to quote Lucien.
If the animal survived the next weeks without infection setting in, it would take months for him to heal.
Her feelings for Lucien resonated throughout her writing.
She included her idea to keep this Newton fellow at arm’s length this evening by wearing the most hideous, ugly dress she owned.
She had no interest in any other man except Lucien, and dressing this way as well as ignoring the man as much as possible should deter him.
Somewhere in the background someone cleared their throat. Her lady’s maid was patiently waiting back the door.
“It is time to dress for the evening,” she said.
“How long have I been writing?”
“More than an hour,” the young girl replied.
Harriet closed the journal and placed it in the top drawer of the desk. “Let’s do this.”
Sometime later, Harriet emerged, her hair severely styled, the orange dress looking no better than it had been even as a ball gown. That’s what she intended to accomplish.
“I think this look should do the trick, don’t you?” Harriet asked.
The young woman nodded. “Yes, I do, milady.”
Harriet left the room and found her way downstairs and to the drawing room. Upon entering she saw Newton sitting on a gold-and-cream chair.
“Lord Newton, I hope you haven’t waited long.”
He shook his head, making it obvious the dismay he felt seeing her. “No, I just arrived.”
“I’m sure Arthur and Lady Daphne will be here momentarily,” she replied.
Without waiting for a reply, she wandered over to Sam to offer him a treat. The parrot knew what was coming and began bobbing his head up and down.
“What are you doing?” Newton asked.
“I’m going to give Sam a treat.”
“Don’t touch him. He’s a wild bird and filthy.”
“Yes, he is wild, but Lady Daphne considers him part of the family. He’s a gift from her father.” Harriet picked up a fresh piece of apple from his dish and handed it to him. When Sam gobbled up the fruit he yelled, “More! More!”
“I think you can get another slice yourself.”
“Bloody hell!” the parrot said excitedly. “There’s a stranger.”
“Lord Newton is a friend of Arthur’s, so you need to be on your best behavior.”
Harriet leaned over and took another slice of apple and handed it to Sam. Either the apple or a change in mood had the macaw quiet.
“I cannot believe Arthur would allow such a beast in his house,” Newton said.
Harriet wasn’t sure if Newton meant that. She glanced back at the man and he had a brow arched, watching the scene in front of him play out. Did he now find the bird fascinating or was he wary of what might come next?
“Ah, I see you’ve met Sam,” Daphne said as she and Arthur entered the room. She went over to greet their guest.
Newton glanced at Arthur as he took Daphne’s hand. “Yes, I have. I can’t believe your husband would allow a wild animal in the house.”
“They were a package. It was either Daphne and Sam or nothing. Besides, Sam is quite entertaining.”
“Interesting,” Newton said. He accepted a glass of whiskey from Arthur. All the while he was watching Lady Harriet and Her Grace as they sipped on the wine Arthur had given them.
Harriet noticed his brow arch as though he disapproved of her drinking wine. He was not the friendly sort of gentleman. She was certain he would be a very domineering husband. If he ever found a woman who’d agree to be his wife. Life would be a living hell with him.
“I understand Lord Kingston is courting you,” Newton commented. “Where is he this evening?”
“With the Prince of Wales, I imagine. The prince placed an order with Lord Kingston’s company, and the prince is signing off on the project,” Harriet replied.
“An aristocrat having a job? Building rail cars? Appalling,” Newton said distastefully.
Saying nothing, Harriet looked to Arthur to help her. She’d never encountered such a man, and this one made her uncomfortable.
“It’s the future, Newton. Having someone like the prince as a customer has brought in three new clients for Kingston.”
“I see your point. He must have a lack of funds at the moment. I’m sure once he inherits his father’s title, he’ll give it all up.”
The door had opened, the butler nodding his head. Dinner was ready and Harriet was relieved. Perhaps he and Arthur would engage in their own conversation about Parliament or something manly. She didn’t care about the idea of conversing with a boor at dinner.
She was seated to Arthur’s right while Daphne sat to his left, with Newton on Daphne’s left. At the spur of the moment, Newton asked if he could be seated where she was so he and Arthur could chat. Harriet said nothing but stood and stepped back from the table.
“Thank you, my dear,” Newton said as he held a chair out for her. “Men just sometimes need to carry out subjects which interest them both.”
Nodding slightly, Harriet tried her best to ignore his nonstop talk and concentrate on everything going on around her at the table. Looking across the table, she saw Daphne watching her, gifting her with a smile before speaking to a footman who’d just walked up to her.
The man is so condescending, Harriet swore to herself, that carrying on a conversation with this man is virtually impossible. He knows everything, and women are for one thing. To produce the next generation.
When he made a remark about how lovely her dress was and how the color suited her, it took every ounce of energy she had to keep from bursting into laughter. Either he was color blind or he was goading her into conversation.
As dinner came to an end, she and Daphne left the men to their port and cigars while they returned to the drawing room for tea. The ritual turned out to be a lifesaver, an escape for Harriet.
Daphne poured them both a cup of tea. “The color of your gown looks good on you. Looks like your scheme of wearing the worst dress went astray.” She let a giggle escape her lips as she handed the tea to Harriet.
Harriet snorted. “Either he’s that dense or he set me up.”
“How do you mean, ‘set you up’?”
“He’s trying to prove that I, a woman, can’t even choose a dress and therefore I need a husband to show me my errors,” Harriet replied.
Nodding, Daphne agreed. “That does sound like something Newton would do.”
“He seems a nice gentleman and there’s no need to act the way he does.”
“Men have huge egos in case you haven’t learned that yet,” Daphne said. “Newton’s is one of the worst.”
Harriet pretended to be mortified. “No! You mean there are men who are worse?”
“Yes. I hear a lot of men like that become worse once they marry,” Daphne said.
“I wouldn’t be able to deal with that. I’d have to do something drastic.”
Daphne leaned over and placed her hand on Harriet’s. “Fortunately, Lucien is not like that. I think your marriage is going to be one of the best.”
“I’m fortunate to have found him,” Harriet said.
“The two of you complement each other so well. You’re perfect for each other.”
“Thank you, Daphne. Would you mind if I retired upstairs before the men return?”
“Not at all. In fact, I was going to suggest it.”
Harriet finished her cup of tea and rose from her chair. “I had best go. They’ll be back any time. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you then. Pleasant dreams,” Daphne said.
As she walked towards the staircase, Harriet thought she heard the dining room door open.
The sound of Newton’s voice couldn’t be hidden.
She bolted up the stairs and to her bedroom.
She closed the door behind her and walked across the room to the fireplace.
She wasn’t the least bit tired, but she was thankful she’d been able to get away from Newton.
If she was lucky, Lucien would be finished with the prince after this evening and she and Lucien could spend some uninterrupted time together.
Daphne was correct; she was fortunate to have Lucien in her life.
*
No one was home when Harriet entered the breakfast room the following morning. She remembered Arthur having said he had a full day at Parliament and would be there all day. Daphne had an appointment this morning, but Harriett for the life of her couldn’t remember with whom.