The Science of Seduction #2
She stepped into the mess. Clothing littered the floor and furniture.
An easel was propped in the corner, a mess of paint surrounding it.
There was an empty birdcage, a gun cabinet with the door wide open, and one weapon on the floor in bits.
The spectacular view over the gardens, the fountain, and the lake, was hampered by a pile of wooden chests and a ladder, of all things.
“In the name of the good Lord.” Harriet shook her head. The bed was in a rumpled state, as if the occupant had just rolled out, leaving the shape of his head in the pillow and the sheets twisted. “This can’t be.”
She backed out, a frown of confusion plowing over her forehead. How could this possibly be a duke’s bedchamber? How could it be anyone’s? Her childhood home was no manor house, but it was tidy and clean and the beds were made every morning.
With her hand resting on the banister that looked down onto the hallway below, Harriet sucked in a breath. Was it not bad enough she had to lie on her back and take his cock, but that she would have to do it in such squalor?
God is playing a wicked joke on me. Surely, He is. It is the only explanation.
“Your Grace.”
Harriet turned. A young maid stood before her, her uniform impeccable and her cheeks a little rosy.
“Oh… I… Good day to you,” Harriet said, a little startled because she hadn’t heard her approach.
“I’m Emily.” The maid bobbed and touched her skirt at each side. “Are you looking for your bedchamber?”
“Er…yes, I am.”
“That is His Grace’s private space.” She nodded at the room Harriet had just escaped from.
“No one but him is allowed in there. Well, once a week, I am permitted to change the bedsheets, and occasionally stack the fire, but that is it. He is very particular about his things. He doesn’t like them moved… ever.”
“I see.” Harriet swallowed. “And he collects…things.”
“Hoards them, if you ask me.” Emily pursed her lips and shook her head. “I am sorry, that was rude of me. I should not speak of my master that way.”
“No, not at all. You just spoke the truth, from what I have seen so far.”
Emily smiled, just a little.
“Are you to be my lady’s maid, Emily?”
“Yes, if you will have me.” She bobbed her head again.
“I certainly will. Thank you.” Harriet smiled warmly.
Emily cleared her throat. “We are an unconventional household, you will no doubt see. His Grace does not care for lots of staff. He says they are a distraction to his work and he’d rather have dust.” She shrugged.
“We do our best and if he goes away on business, Cook employs extra help for a good spring clean of the entire house.”
“I see.” This was all most odd for such a large house.
“You may prefer to change all of that, Your Grace.” Emily knotted her fingers together and looked around as though hoping not to see cobwebs.
“Me being here is enough of a change…for now.” Harriet paused and also looked around the vast landing. “Though I’m sure some extra help would ease the pressure. Hinton Hall is huge and too much for just a few of you to manage.”
“Yes, if I’m honest, it is. This way, Your Grace.” Emily moved to the right. “If you will.”
Harriet followed her and Emily opened the door of the next bedchamber. “This is your room. I aired it this morning as the sun came up and the breeze was fresh, but I am afraid it is already warm in here again.”
“It’s lovely.” Harriet blew out a sigh of relief. “Really, thank you.”
The elegant large room was decorated in pale yellow and green. The bed was large and piled with soft pillows and cushions. The floor was dotted with rugs and above a fireplace, a mantel held more oriental vases with pretty, long-stemmed flowers in them.
“What is this?” Harriet picked up a jar of water from beside the bed. Strange, fat, black things floated it in it. She wrinkled her nose. “Oh! Are these?”
“Leeches, yes.”
Hurriedly, she pressed the jar into Emily’s hands. “I do not want this in my bedchamber.”
“It is a wedding gift from your groom.”
“A what?” Harriet shook her head in disbelief. “He thinks that I would want a jar of water full of leeches?”
“They are weather predictors, or so he tells me. When the heat wave is about to break, when there is rain just over the horizon, they will rise to the surface of the water. It is useful to know if it is about to rain.”
“But that… That is… I’m sorry, but I will just look at the sky and see if there are rain clouds approaching.”
“This is something he’s working on. Weather prediction.” Emily shrugged. “One of many things.”
“Please, take it away. I do not want to sleep with those revolting, fat creatures floating next to me.”
“Very well, Your Grace.”
Harriet wiped her hands on her bridal gown but quickly stopped herself. One day, she hoped her own daughter would wear it.
But to have a daughter, she’d have to…
Again, Harriet stopped herself. That train of thought needed to be buried, at least until nightfall. Perhaps her fate would change. She had no idea how, but God worked in mysterious ways.
“What time does the duke take dinner?” she asked.
“Usually, at six o’clock, though today…it may be different.”
“He didn’t eat anything from the wedding breakfast. He will be very hungry.”
“His eating habits are unpredictable. Cook has his meal ready at six o’clock, but if he is engrossed in his workshop, it could be midnight, or even six o’clock in the morning before he eats.”
“Oh, my goodness, what a strange way to be.” Harriet frowned.
How could she live with this? Then she looked at the bed.
Actually, it could suit her well if he was busy all night.
She could shut herself in here. Bathe. Read.
Go to sleep. Find sanctuary while he tinkered with his crazy science ideas and forgot about his new wife.
*
Despite being groomless at her own wedding, Harriet showed her face outside again. The most bizarre thing was no one seemed surprised by the Duke of Cheshire’s absence or in the slightest bit concerned, including her mother.
At one point, as Harriet was indulging in a cream pie, there was a loud bang and a puff of smoke appeared over what she been told was his workshop.
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Talbot chuckled. “If anyone can work out how to set the Thames on fire, it will be His Grace, but not today, it seems.”
The gardener, Mr. Timms, chuckled, his ruddy cheeks wobbling. “I need to move the water sprinkler,” he said. “To the vegetable patch.”
“Is that the…?” Harriet wafted her hand at the raspberry bushes. “Is that what the strange pipe is called?”
“Yes, marvelous invention. Saves me a lot of time and the garden loves it; it’s like it’s actually raining. We have some of the best vegetables for miles around because of His Grace’s idea.”
“Oh. I see.”
“My darling, I must leave you now.” Harriet’s mother fiddled with her hair again. “I bid you a good night and hope it passes without too much discomfort.”
Harriet frowned. “I think my husband has forgotten he’s even got a wife, so I’m sure it will be quite fine.”
“Men have urges that cannot be ignored, my sweet Harriet.” She leaned closer and nudged her with an elbow. “You will learn and perhaps even find it not too terrible to suffer.”
And suffering she was. Or so it felt like when she watched her mother walk away. Harriet knew she loved her. She knew her mother had worked hard to secure her daughter’s marriage and would sleep better at night knowing she’d always have a roof over her head and food on the table.
But this eccentric man? Had Harriet’s mother any idea just where she’d left her daughter and with whom?
Mrs. Talbot and Emily begin clearing away the wedding feast, chatting and still eating as they went about their task. It was all very casual and relaxed with servants’ roles blurring. Clearly, this unusual household was happy and comfortable.
Except for me, that is. How could I ever be? I am a fish out of water here. It seems normal rules don’t apply. Standards here are very different, and that is being polite about it.
The sun dipped behind the tall fir trees in the distance stretching long shadows over the lawn and the fountain. With a sense of trepidation and gnawing curiosity, Harriet walked toward her new husband’s workshop.
It was an extension of the vast, brick-built house.
One story and covered in thick, glossy-green ivy.
Ten big, arched windows obscured the inside with heavy closed curtains and at the far right, there were double doors flung open.
Through them, a variety of tubes, pipes, and lengths of rope passed each one attached to something on the outside—a tropical-looking plant, a huge, metal container, and another ladder.
She glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being watched. She had already been told by Mrs. Talbot and Mr. Timms the gardener to stay away from His Grace’s workshop. It was where he kept his most important things and he did not like to be disturbed under any circumstances.
As she drew closer, she heard whirring and banging and a sooty scent filled her nose. She passed an enormous pampas grass, its fluffy, white tendrils catching in the breeze, and then reached the door.
Keeping herself half-hidden, she peered around the frame and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.
A fire was lit on a pedestal, above it another huge metal container with a ladder propped against it. The flames licked and flickered and a log crackled and shifted.
And then she saw him. Jasper. He’d removed his smart morning jacket to reveal a crisp, white shirt undone by three buttons and he was moving with purpose as he ran his hand along a length of pipe.
A frown on his brow suggested he was deep in thought.
And then he moved a large, wooden tray on the floor, kicking it along until it sat at the end of the pipework and beneath what appeared to be a pail attached to the pipes.
“Yes,” he muttered as he rubbed his hands together. “Yes. Yes. It is time.”