Chapter Sixteen
ACROSS TOWN, HARRIET STOOD FROZEN IN THE SMALL KITCHEN, wishing she could somehow communicate with her mind to her sisters, warning them to remain outdoors.
“What in God’s name are you doing here?!” the Earl of Tidewell spat. They were the first words out of his mouth upon returning to his daughters two days later. His luck had run out and with it, theirs as well.
“Father, how are you?” Harriet asked, her voice syrupy, head bowed. Overtures of submission were historically safest when dealing with their father, Hamish, especially when he’d been drinking. And if he’d run out of money, surely he had been.
“I asked why you were here. In my house,” he thundered. “I thought you’d gotten yourself leg shackled. Though it is difficult to credit a duke’s son going after my Harriet, isn’t it?”
“I couldn’t argue otherwise, Father. Though we did marry.”
“What are you doing in my house, then?”
“I only thought—”
“You only thought I’d pay for your comforts?
Save that duke of yours some coin, eh? Does he want to board his horses here in my mews as well?
” They hadn’t been able to keep a horse in years, but Harriet ignored that.
“I’ll be damned before I take in another man’s wife!
” Hamish Bancroft was growing more and more livid.
Of course, her mind-communication hadn’t worked, because at that moment, Frances and Caroline returned from their walk to the cheesemonger. Stuff and bother!
“Oh, Father, you’re here,” Caroline muttered. The sisters shared glances with one another to assess his mood. Harriet’s eyes told her sisters just how dire the situation was.
“You sound surprised to see me in my own house!” Hamish bellowed, turning and advancing on her.
“I’m not, Father, only …” Caroline, more than the rest of them, grew meek at their father’s rages. Philippa had always shouted back, defiant in the face of his violence. Frances brushed it off, staying quiet and removed in his presence and laughing about it later.
Harriet, of course, tried to talk him down.
“She’s delighted, Father. We all are.” Harriet rushed over and laid her hand on his arm to calm him. Only it seemed to do the opposite.
He stopped, looking down at her in disgust and then up at her.
“You think to lay a hand on me?” he sneered. Harriet quickly pulled back. “When I can no longer lay a hand on you?”
“No, no … of course not, Father …” But Hamish was far past the point of listening.
“I can no longer strike you, can I? You’ll just go tattling to that duke of yours.
” He reached out and grabbed Harriet’s arm, gripping hard enough to bruise.
“And you are his property now, aren’t you?
I can’t very well damage a duke’s property, can I?
” he taunted, tightening his grip. Harriet refrained from correcting that Alexander was a duke’s son.
And a second son at that. And not at all interested in her or her well-being.
“Father, please, let me—”
“Let you what? Run my accounts into the ground again? You were meant to be the intelligent one, yet once again, I haven’t a sixpence to scratch with.
I wonder what it is you do with all my blunt.
Is that how you attracted the duke? Heaven knows it wasn’t a love match.
That was never in the cards for you. And I’m to believe a duke would pick you of all my daughters?
The man would have to be blinder than Caroline and deafer than Beethoven!
” He laughed heartily at his barbs, gleeful at getting to belittle two daughters at once.
Unfortunately, none of his daughters shared his amusement at his gibes.
That, as it turned out, was an insult too large to be borne. He dropped Harriet’s arm and crossed the room in a few short seconds, grabbing Caroline next, who let out a yelp that seemed to satisfy him. The man loved inspiring fear in others.
With all the care one might use to swat a fly, he struck Caroline across the face.
All three girls tried their best not to let their reactions show; they had been here many times before.
Caroline’s eyes teared up. Frances balled her hands into fists, clearly stewing in anger. Harriet swallowed nervously.
“Father, please let her go, I—” Harriet scrambled, trying to think of what she could do. “I’ll leave. I promise I’ll leave.”
“I changed my mind.” He grinned at her. “You can stay. You can watch me manage those daughters that still are mine. There’s no need to strike you at all, is there?” He reached up again, ready to hit Caroline once more.
“Wait!” Harriet yelled, louder than she’d ever spoken to him. She wasn’t certain she’d ever given him a command in her life. “I have money. Thirty-four pounds. You can have it—if you’ll leave.”
He crossed back to Harriet now, his prey forgotten at the mention of money.
“Ahh, so you did take my money, then, did you? Thought to filch from your own father?” The idea of the Earl of Tidewell having thirty-four pounds to steal was laughable. Harriet wasn’t certain how to play this hand, but she took a risk, bypassing his accusation.
“Will you leave immediately? If I give it to you?”
The earl mulled it over for a bit, weighing whether forgoing the money was worth it for the sake of antagonizing his daughters.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” he tried, puffing his chest out.
“I would never dare to, Father. I only thought to prevent you from having to stay here; you always say how we drain you. I figured you might use the money to recoup some funds. You’ve always been so proficient at providing for your family at the tables.
Few men have your skill at wagering.” There was some truth to that.
At one point, the earl had made himself quite wealthy through betting.
Unfortunately, his skill was eclipsed by his inability to quit while ahead.
“You are correct that time in the company of three such stupid girls is quite a waste for a mind such as mine. I’ve been damned to atrophy every time I enter my own home. A man isn’t meant to live as such!”
“Quite right, let me go and get the funds now, and I’ll be back in a trice!
” Harriet hastened from the room and galloped up the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t harm either sister in her short absence.
She retrieved the bag, but not before shoving three coins back into the boot. One for each sister at home.
Harriet raced downstairs and sneaked outside to find a hack. She offered the driver a coin if he’d wait a few moments. She returned to the kitchen to find her father at the table, eating the cheese the girls had just brought home.
“There is a hack outside for you. I’ve paid the man to wait. Once you get in the vehicle, I will give you the money.” Harriet prayed this plan would work.
“You’re quite the manipulative bitch, aren’t you?” Hamish asked, although with an odd touch of fondness. “If you’d been a son, you might have been worth something.”
He tucked his hat under his arm, grabbed the small bag he’d brought in with him, and the rest of the cheese, then stood. As much as he loathed to be managed by a woman, staying at home with his daughters had always been a last resort for him. And now he didn’t need to.
Harriet followed him and, as agreed, handed the money through the hack’s door, closing it and tapping twice to let the driver know to embark.
There was one thing taken care of. Now she simply had to figure out how to make three pounds last her sisters as long as thirty-four pounds lasted her father.
She hadn’t spoken with Alexander about an allowance, and she didn’t know when she might see him again to ask for one.
Would asking paint her as a fortune hunter?
Certainly, no one with even half a mind would mistake her for one.
Before Alexander, she’d aimed to marry an academic!
Mr. Dawkins! Harriet had quite forgotten him in the shuffle of arriving home. Once the dictionary was finished, she might have a small bit of income. That decided it: She’d pay a call to him tomorrow and reveal herself.
It had been six days since he’d arrived home.
She should have been here by now. Charleston would have sent word if anything happened.
The man had a folding flintlock, no doubt they were safe.
The carriage was not marked with his seal.
What the devil had waylaid them? Had she discovered a new phrase?
Another filthy word? Had she found a new person to talk to?
He shouldn’t have left her alone. It was unforgivable. What sort of man abandoned his wife?
The sort that was going to ravish her if he didn’t.
Alexander paced around his study, doing his best to refocus his concern on his carriage and driver.
And not on Harriet. He hadn’t wanted a wife!
Ever. Definitely not a bluestocking wallflower who kept slips of paper with filthy words in her reticule, whose mouth drove him to distraction. Who did not want to fuck him.
He wanted to drink and dance and fence and philander at will; he wanted not to feel as if he was being monitored. More, he wanted to want to return to the beds and the balls of high society.
In faith, if she did not return to London, his problem would be solved. So why was he so uninterested in that outcome?
Not knowing what else to do, he marched to the door and grabbed his hat and gloves, mostly as an overture toward decorum. He arrived at Giuliana’s no less troubled.
He nodded to the butler as he entered, handed over his effects, and showed himself to the sitting room. Like any mistress worth her salt, Giuliana sailed into the room within minutes.
“I’m surprised to see you so soon,” she purred. Only a man who knew her as well as he did would hear the dismissal in her sultry greeting.
“First of all, I’m going to make you pay dearly for the chemise you lent my wife.” Giuliana bit back a smile. “I’m married, by the way,” he added.
“Good. I had hoped she’d pull it off. I liked her.”
“She’s quite … persuasive.”
“Yes, I know. Charleston told me.”