Chapter Five
IF LIFE HAD TAUGHT HARRIET ANYTHING, IT WAS THAT PROBLEMS did not sort themselves out.
As her family’s resident problem sorter, she did not have the luxury of believing such nonsense.
Problems demanded action, not patience or hope.
Certainly not sleeping soundly assuming someone else would step in and solve them.
Harriet left a note for her sister before slipping out the servants’ entrance and hailing a hackney carriage.
She had never been in a carriage alone before, and never alone in the city at this hour; each passing moment brought more doubt.
Doubt was replaced with panic as the hack rolled to a stop in front of a dark, imposing townhome.
As she alighted, a shiver ran down her spine, only partially from the cool night air.
The driver looked at her and then up at the house.
“You sure this is the right address, miss?”
Harriet gathered herself. “Yes, thank you, sir.”
“Should you like me to wait here for you? I’ll charge you a shilling for four hours.” Harriet wanted to snort, both at his assumption that she had the money and that she might be the type of woman who would stay at this address for that long.
“No, thank you, sir. Good night.” With that, Harriet began her walk to the grim front doors.
Perhaps it was the darkness of the evening and the task at hand that made them appear so foreboding.
Surely during the day, they were ordinary doors.
At least, that’s what Harriet told herself.
She reached her hand up to knock softly, the sound frightening her even as she made it.
She bit her lip and rocked back on her heels, hoping she wouldn’t have to knock any louder.
Hoping someone had heard. Certainly the butler of a rakehell such as Lord Alexander was up at this hour.
Indeed, men who weren’t half as promiscuous as he stayed out all hours of the night.
Just as she was about to give in and knock again, the door swung open, and a shockingly affable old man inclined his head.
“Apologies for the delay, miss, I didn’t expect you at this door.
I’ll take you right up to his room. He’s not in yet, but I will send a message along to apprise him of your presence. ”
Harriet’s eyes grew wide as the butler led the way up a grand staircase.
“Oh, I’m—I’m sorry—” Harriet began, quite rooted to the spot. The butler turned then, a twinkle in his eye.
“Yes?”
“I’m not—I’m not here to—Well, I’m not—” Harriet wasn’t ready to use the word swive with a butler, no matter her practice earlier tonight. The butler’s confusion barely registered before his eyes widened in surprise. His gaze swept over her, and he paused, chuckling to himself.
“No, I don’t suppose you are. Tell me then, what is a lady such as yourself doing here to see Lord Alexander? You seem too guileless to be a widow and too shrewd to be unhappily married, if you don’t mind me saying. Either way, those sorts of ladies do so rarely use the front door.”
Harriet found herself smiling at his impropriety. Something about the warmth this stranger exuded steeled her, making her feel as if he was on her side.
“I must talk to your … uh, well, to Lord Alexander. I’m afraid he and I ended up in a bit of a situation this evening. An entanglement, if you will.” The butler’s eyes narrowed with concern, in a way that made Harriet’s heart catch.
“I assure you, he’s all right.”
“I’m not worried about him, my lady.”
It took Harriet a moment before she could reply with an “Oh. Well—” although she had no idea where the sentence was going. Luckily for her, Lord Alexander’s butler didn’t mind taking control of a situation.
“I can have you wait in the sitting room, if you’d like. I’ll bring you tea while you wait, although I must warn you, he will be a while.”
Harriet didn’t have a while. If Philippa found the letter she’d left, she’d be here within minutes.
Now that she thought of it, she hadn’t even given herself much time to convince the man; blast the part of her that felt compelled to inform at least one of her sisters precisely where she was at all times.
“There is an exceedingly urgent matter I must discuss with him this evening. Could you perhaps tell me where he is?”
The butler thought for a moment, clearly weighing his options.
“I can do you one better, my lady. I’ll send you there.
Although I do hope you’re not one to scandalize easily.
He’s a bit of a git, he is. Too handsome for his own good, I’ve always said.
” He chuckled, as if they were sharing a joke, although Harriet couldn’t tell who it was on.
He cleared his throat and turned graver. “He’s with company is what I mean.”
What an odd butler, Harriet thought. She liked him immensely.
“His mistress?” she asked, trying to keep the shakiness out of her voice. To make it seem as if she frequently spoke of such things to gentlemen’s butlers.
“I’m afraid so. Lovely woman, she is. I have a strong suspicion you two would get on.” Harriet smiled. “It’s that or wait till morning, I’m afraid. And morning for my lord starts around noon.”
“I suppose I have no choice, then.” Harriet and the butler shared a look, as if they were in league together, which she supposed they were. He simply nodded and left the room, his absence bringing back the chill of the evening.
“What the bloody hell am I doing?” Harriet whispered to herself, allowing herself a few curses as the situation seemed to call for them.
As if in response, a nearby clock chimed two.
Time’s running out.
After decades of dealing with both her father and Philippa, Harriet had been virtually certain that nothing could shock her. Her first thought upon entering Lord Alexander’s mistress’s sitting room was not shock per se, but rather an honest reappraisal of her own naivety.
She charged in, ready to spar once again with the indomitable Lord Alexander, only to be greeted by a roaring fire illuminating two people in shocking states of undress.
One—the most gorgeous woman Harriet had ever seen—was entirely nude and sitting casually on a loveseat reading a book.
The other, Lord Alexander himself, was sitting—or rather sleeping—in a nearby chair, snoring softly.
His jacket and waistcoat had been removed, his shirt unbuttoned, and his cravat discarded.
His feet were appallingly bare, though most egregious of all was that his breeches appeared to be unfastened—that was the last detail Harriet observed before she threw her gaze elsewhere and tried to blink away the image.
To her credit, the nude woman barely flinched at Harriet’s presence.
She simply snapped her book closed and smiled, as if she’d been expecting her.
“Good evening,” she said, standing. “I trust Sanderson let you in?” The woman—Lord Alexander’s mistress, presumably—was tall and lean, with a mass of light-brown hair that cascaded down her back as she stood.
Harriet nodded and turned her face toward the wall a bit, doing her best not to notice anything else about the nude woman, but then wondered perhaps if that was rude.
She didn’t want to appear as if she wasn’t looking out of distaste or disgust. Where did one look when presented with someone’s nipples?
“I hope I didn’t—Won’t you forget what page you’re on?” Harriet said to the wall. She knew it was a silly thing to ask, and she winced, waiting for the woman to laugh at her.
And she did. It was, however, a warm laugh.
A shared laugh. “Page 265. Not to worry. I have an excellent memory for such things.” As she said this, the woman picked up a blanket thrown over the settee and tucked it around herself with practiced ease, looking even more like a goddess than before, which Harriet would not have thought possible.
With an ease Harriet envied, she extended an arm and dipped into a small curtsy.
“You must be the woman from the library. I’m Miss Hightower, but you may call me Giuliana.
” Harriet had no idea what the etiquette books said about being shown into a gentleman’s mistress’s house by said gentleman’s mistress’s butler to arrange a marriage after an incident of public compromise only to find both the gentleman and the mistress in states of undress.
Giuliana, however, behaved as if she’d experienced this many times before.
“Please, have a seat. Would you like me to ring for tea? Otherwise, you can join me in drinking his good brandy.” Harriet took the seat across from Giuliana, still dazed by the sheer ordinariness of their conversation.
“No, thank you. I’m actually here to—” Harriet gestured vaguely toward Lord Alexander’s body.
“Yes, I assumed so. I heard you two had quite the meeting at the Dunley ball this evening.” Giuliana peered up over the rim of her brandy glass in a way that sent a thrill through Harriet. The woman was clearly good at her job. The word meeting sounded positively filthy coming from her mouth.
“No, no, we didn’t—we just … His arms, mostly …
And, well, my wrist. Someone saw, you see?
Well, they didn’t see. But they thought they saw.
Something. But nothing happened. So then he …
Well, he didn’t offer, which I understand, but I have sisters.
Younger ones. So, I’m here because my father is missing.
Well, not missing. But gone. He gambles a lot.
And goes off for months on end. So we have to marry, you understand … ”
Despite her frenzied and nonsensical monologue, Giuliana nodded. “I do, in fact, although you’re going to have a devil of a time discussing such things with him tonight. He’s quite drunk, I’m afraid.”
“Typical, I suppose,” Harriet muttered. Giuliana seemed about to say something, but she held back.
The weight of the evening’s events chose precisely then to settle on Harriet, and she felt suddenly on the verge of crying.
Crying wasn’t an act Harriet was opposed to, but she didn’t particularly relish the idea of doing so in front of this goddess.
“So, what’s our plan, then?” Giuliana asked, a glint in her eye. For such a vexing, vain man, Alexander certainly surrounded himself with warm and welcoming people.
“Plan?”
“Certainly, you didn’t come all the way here to the house of a known Cyprian without a plan?”
“My plan got incapacitated,” Harriet said, gesturing vaguely once again in the direction of Lord Alexander, who she assumed was still slumped and softly snoring in his chair.
No doubt his breeches were still unfastened and halfway down his lap, but Harriet had been studiously avoiding checking on that.
“Your plan was to get him to agree, yes?”
“Yes …?” Harriet had no idea where this was going.
“Agree to what?”
“… To marriage,” Harriet said, wondering which of the two of them was the dimwit.
“Of course, dear, but what then? Was it to be a special license? Or banns to be read in hopes your father returned in time? Or an elopement? Come now, what did you have in mind?”
“Ideally … Well, I can’t wait for the banns to be read. My father is unlikely to return for an age. I certainly can’t procure a special license myself. Even if he were amenable, we’d need him awake for that. I supposed I hoped for, well, an elopement.” Harriet winced.
“Marvelous!” Giuliana said, clapping her hands together.
The woman had a lot of faith in the blanket stretched across her bosom, petite though she was.
“I must admit, I’m a sap when it comes to elopements!
So romantic!” Every time Harriet felt she was getting somewhere in this conversation, it turned, and she was left wondering which of the two of them didn’t understand things.
Nothing about this situation was romantic.
“He’s … well, he’s asleep, Miss Hightower,” she gingerly reminded the woman.
“I insist you call me Giuliana, and I fear he’s a little past asleep. The poor fellow has had enough brandy to kill every man in the House of Lords.”
“Even worse!” Harriet exclaimed, throwing up her hands and trying not to lose patience.
“Even better,” Giuliana smirked, leaning back against the velvet divan, looking more regal, more divine than ever.
Had Harriet any ounce of artistic ability she would have wanted to paint the scene.
“Now, you needn’t waste your time getting Alexander to agree.
You’ll find he’s quite agreeable as he is. ”
Harriet’s throat caught a bit at her casual use of his given name.
“Convenient, that,” Giuliana continued, “since he’s a stubborn bugger when awake; can’t convince the poor sod of anything unless he’s made to think it’s his idea.”
“I know the type well,” Harriet answered.
“Now that we have everything sorted, would you like any tea before you go?” Harriet wasn’t sure they had anything sorted, or where she was meant to go, but Giuliana appeared entirely serene as she rang a small brass bell sitting on her occasional table.
Within seconds, the doors to the sitting room opened and a strikingly handsome footman appeared. Harriet noted idly that she was in the presence of the three most beautiful people she’d ever seen. Not that she was looking at Lord Alexander; she was in fact studiously not looking.
“Richard, darling, please tell Charleston to ready my carriage, and then pack a few of Lord Alexander’s things into a trunk.
Pack warmly. He’ll be taking a short journey north.
When you’re finished, do find Sanderson and have him help you assist Lord Alexander to my carriage.
Oh, and tell Miss Temple to pack some food in a basket. ”
The man nodded and left the room without comment or question; either these types of requests came frequently, or Miss Hightower took the training of her servants seriously.
She turned back to Harriet, still with a gleeful energy about her as if she were the one kidnapping a peer and riding into the night with his body.
And as if the idea were a thrilling one.
“Now then,” Giuliana said, standing. “What do you need? I can’t imagine you want to stop at home before leaving.
Time is not your friend tonight. I was not gifted with your …
ample blessings …” Giuliana gestured to Harriet’s breasts, still overexposed in Philippa’s gown.
“So I don’t have much to share. But a comb?
Hairpins? Tooth powder? I don’t wear night rails, but I have a chemise or two that might fit. ”
Harriet had never met someone who took care of things like she herself did—someone who was prepared, uncowed, ready for action.
It was rather surreal to be on the other side of the equation.
For the first time in her life, Harriet let herself relax into the feeling of being managed by someone else.
She followed Giuliana upstairs like a little duckling, ignoring as best as possible what would inevitably come after she left the woman’s care.
Once he was her only company.