Within a half hour, Thomas was back to being somber. A knock on the library door brought a footman with a summons from his father. Thomas took the stairs two at a time and entered his father’s bedchamber.
He saw that his father’s face was bloated and mottled red. A few papers were strewn about the bedclothes.
“It’s more than halfway through the London Season. I want to know if you’ve lined up a wealthy marriage prospect yet.”
“As a matter of fact, I have not,” Thomas said coldly.
“Just as I thought. You need something that will prod you to action.” Choler made his face almost purple. “I intend to change my will!”
“Again?” Thomas asked with contempt.
“Yes, again! It will stipulate that if you have not wed an heiress before I die, you will forfeit Shugborough.”
Thomas hung on to his temper, though mention of Shugborough, so dear to his heart, always made him feel vulnerable. Do you never tire of these threats? “The law of primogeniture will prevail. As your heir, I will automatically inherit. It is British law.”
“With the help of my attorney, I’ve come up with a way to circumvent you, unless you wed money.” Lichfield’s breathing became labored. “I will swear out and sign an affidavit that you are to be disinherited.”
Thomas recoiled. “Your thinking and your threats are twisted. An affidavit to disinherit me would only bring worry and unhappiness to Mother, and you’ve brought her enough sorrow.”
“You can prevent the sorrow. If you take a wife whose wealth can restore Shugborough, I will instruct my attorney to burn the affidavit.”
Thomas felt his jaw clench like a lump of iron. Why do you hate me so much? Is it because you suspect I know your shameful secret, that I know you burned Ranton for the money?
Thomas was not overly worried. An affidavit to disinherit him would carry little weight with the court. The laws of primogeniture would prevail. But it pained him that his father was seeking revenge against him, which in turn would hurt his mother.
“I don’t believe I have much to worry about. You are too cantankerous to die.”
Thomas made his way back to the library and accepted the invitation to attend the Duchess of Abercorn’s surprise birthday celebration.
“Johnny is throwing Mother a surprise birthday party on Tuesday,” Harry informed Rachel. “He does it annually, so I doubt it will be a stupendous surprise.”
“Since I always open Campden Hill to the guests that day, it will put an end to my stay in London.”
“I’m sure Johnny and Fanny will have invited Lord Butler. They take a great interest in Mother’s matchmaking.”
“Well, Johnny does, at any rate. He’s well aware of your preference for Thomas Anson over your other suitors.”
“Oh, that’s all off,” Harry said casually.
“Whatever happened?” Rachel asked with concern.
“Nothing happened. Isn’t it a woman’s privilege to change her mind?”
“So D’Arcy is back in favor?”
“He was never out of favor,” Harry insisted. “The Earl of Durham has been waiting for over a year to pay court to me.”
“Well, your mother will be happy, but perhaps Beatrix’s nose will be out of joint.”
“I feel awful that Trixy has developed feelings for D’Arcy, but she has always known he has a tendre for me.”
“Well, I suppose I’d better start packing my things. I’ve truly enjoyed sharing a chamber with you, Harry. It’s been great fun.”
“Oh, let me help you, Rachel. I’ve enjoyed it too. Don’t be surprised if I come and stay with you at Campden Hill. I find your company far more stimulating than Trixy’s.”
“D’Arcy, I’ve been hoping you’d pay me a call.” Harry gave him a warm smile.
“Don’t you remember, Harry? I promised you a carriage ride.”
“Of course I remember. You said it didn’t have to be Hyde Park—you promised to take me anywhere I’d like to go. And the place I’d like to go is Campden Hill, in Kensington.”
“Such a coincidence. I just got an invitation from Lord John, who’s hosting a birthday fete for your mother on Tuesday at his house in Kensington.”
“How lovely. We can attend it together if you like.” She watched his eyes kindle. “I’ll just see if Rachel is ready.”
D’Arcy looked at her blankly. “Rachel?”
“Yes. We are taking her home to Campden Hill. It is right next door to John’s house, and the gardens run together. We use both places for the birthday celebration.”
“But I thought we could be alone, Harry.”
“And so we shall. On the way back, there will be just the two of us. It will take at least an hour. That’s fifty minutes longer than propriety dictates a young debutante should be alone with a gentleman.” She winked. “I’ll go and get my parasol.”
On the way back from Campden Hill, D’Arcy was surprised when Harriet asked if she could take the reins. “I don’t think you’d enjoy it,” he said repressively.
“Of course I will. I’ve driven in Ireland since I was a child, and some of the roads are in a dreadful state.”
“Harry, this isn’t a donkey cart. It’s my brand-new phaeton and my best grays.”
“I shall take that as a yes. You are amazingly generous, D’Arcy.”
Though he wasn’t best pleased, he decided he might be able to take advantage of the situation. He stopped the carriage, handed her the reins, and climbed in the other side. He moved close beside her and placed his arm about her. “You’ll need my strong arm in case they bolt. I shall take that as a yes. You are amazingly generous, Harry.”
Her lips twitched. Two can play that game. She drove sedately until they reached a long, flat stretch of road. “Hang on, D’Arcy!” She slapped the reins sharply, and let the horses have their head. The matched pair sprang forward in tandem, galloping as if Old Nick were on their tails. “Hell for leather—nothing can compare!”
The Earl of Durham did not appreciate anyone taking control. That it was a female who did so, and moreover one he intended to make his wife, was anathema to him. He took the reins from her and forced the horses to slow from a wild gallop to an easy trot.
Harry had high spirits, and rather than reprimand her, he decided to manipulate her.
“On the way to Campden Hill, I thought I detected a bit of a limp in the carriage horse on the right. A mad gallop could injure him.”
Harry was immediately contrite. “Oh, I am so sorry. What a thoughtless creature I am. Perhaps he picked up a stone. Do let’s take a look at his hoof.”
They climbed out of the phaeton, and while Harry held the horse’s bridle and stroked his nose, D’Arcy took a cursory look at his hoof. “Ah, yes, it was a stone.”
He hid his amusement as she climbed into the passenger seat like a penitent. He took the driver’s seat and picked up the reins.
“Go slowly, D’Arcy, and I’ll watch his gait.”
“If you move over close to me, you’ll have a better view.”
She obeyed him immediately.
From now on, I’ll handle you like a filly.
Harry watched the horse closely for about a mile. “I don’t detect a limp now.”
“No, nothing to worry about; he’s right as rain.”
“Thank heavens.” She smiled up into his blue eyes. “Tell me about your County of Durham. What is it like?”
This will be tricky. Don’t sully her ears with the grim reality. “Durham has some of everything—lush green countryside, many dales and valleys, and it’s steeped in history.”
“It sounds lovely.”
“Durham Cathedral stands on a high, narrow hill, surrounded on three sides by the River Wear and its tree-covered banks. It holds the ancient tomb of Saint Cuthbert.”
“He died defending us against the Vikings. How valiant he must have been.”
“Durham also boasts the ruins of Barnard Castle, built in the twelfth century.”
> “Oh, I love castles.”
“You will certainly love Lambton Castle. It’s almost new. It was built by my father and he spared no expense making sure it boasts every modern convenience. Ancient castles may have atmosphere, but I’d hate to live in one of the damn things.”
“How very unromantic of you, D’Arcy,” she teased.
“Oh, I can be romantic.” He slowed the horses. “Especially with a lady as lovely as you in my arms.” He drew her close and captured her mouth in a sensual kiss. He indulged in three or four while she was in a giving mood, and then held her at arm’s length as his avid glance swept over her. “I’ll tell you one thing—the people of Durham will think you a goddess stepped down from Olympus when you become their countess.”
“You are rather taking things for granted, D’Arcy Lambton,” Harry said archly. “You will have to woo me and win me before I become your Countess of Durham.”
“Stop teasing. Even the Duke and Duchess of Abercorn want me for their son-in-law. What sort of engagement ring would you like?”
“I don’t want to be engaged. I want to be betrothed and have a betrothal ring . . . but not until the end of the Season. It’s not far off. Do you suppose you can make me fall in love with you by then, D’Arcy?”
“End of the Season? Don’t you think that’s a colossal waste of time? If we make the formal announcement, we could be tucked up snugly making passionate love tonight.” His hand moved down to cup her breast.
“You are a silver-tongued devil,” Harry mocked. “How can any lady resist you?” She peeled his hand from her breast and placed it on the reins. “It’s clouding over. I would consider it extremely gallant if you could get me home before it rains.”
“Your wish is my command, Harry, but if you make me wait until after we are married, I shall keep you abed for a week.”
“Only a week?” she teased. “I thought earls of the realm were voracious.”
“I’ll show you voracious!” He pulled her hard against him.
She held out her hand for a raindrop. “You’ll show me a soaking if you don’t hurry.”
Harry shook the rain from her drenched parasol, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Foster, stood it in the entrance hall to dry. Then Harry ran upstairs to the bedchamber she shared with her sisters so she could change her clothes.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Trixy unfastened the buttons on the back of Harry’s dress. “I’ve been waiting to ask you a question. Do you think it would be too forward of me to ask D’Arcy Lambton to be my partner at Mother’s annual birthday party?”
“Of course it wouldn’t be too forward of you.” Harry stepped out of her dress. “It would, however, be a complete waste of time. This afternoon, I asked D’Arcy to partner me.” She took a dress from her wardrobe and slipped it over her head.
“Damn you, Harry! I thought that Thomas Anson was wooing you.”
“Well, he tried, but he didn’t succeed.”
“Well, I think it’s inconsiderate and decidedly shallow to collect all the eligible bachelors like you were gathering a bunch of dandelions, and then toss them aside one by one because they don’t match your dress.”
“You are mixing your metaphors, Trixy,” she teased lightly. “It is your Season too—you are perfectly free to gather your rosebuds while ye may.” Harry changed into slippers. “I have to decide what to give Mother for her birthday. I’ll see you at dinner.”
When Harry left, Jane commiserated with Trixy. “It doesn’t seem fair that all the young men are so bedazzled by Harriet, they don’t even look at the rest of us. Do you think it’s because she is the oldest?”
“No, it’s because they wear blinkers. They are blind to what’s around them. Men want what other men want. Haven’t you noticed that at an auction they all bid on the same horse?”
“We have to have a plan for the birthday party. Trixy, I will sing your praises to D’Arcy Lambton, if you will tell William Montagu how much I admire him.”
Beatrix began to laugh. “Oh, wouldn’t it put Harry’s nose out of joint if one day you became the Countess of Dalkeith, and lived at Dalkeith Palace?”
“I don’t really care about besting Harry,” Jane confided, “but Will Montagu has stolen my heart, and I cannot stop daydreaming about him.”
“In that case, it sounds like a good plan to me. I shall direct Will Montagu’s attention to you, and you must sing my praises to D’Arcy Lambton.”
The two girls clasped hands, crossed their hearts, and made a secret pact.
“This is so delightful. I want to thank Johnny and Rachel for giving me a surprise party every year. My birthday wouldn’t be the same if we didn’t celebrate it at Kensington. I also want to thank all the guests for accepting the invitation.”
The duchess spoke on the verandah of Holland House, with the ladies gathered to one side, and the men on the other congregating about the duke and Lord Johnny.
Harry was surprised to find Thomas Anson in attendance. She immediately sought him out and challenged him. “What are you doing here?”
“I was invited by Lord John.”
“You cannot be my partner today. I am with D’Arcy Lambton.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you, Lady Harriet. I am partnering another.”
“Oh.” Harry was discomfited and felt like a fool. “Forgive me,” she said stiffly.
“There is nothing to forgive.” He smiled warmly. “Though I am no longer courting you, I see no reason why we can’t be friends. Do you?”
You are being extremely civilized. I hadn’t expected it of you. “No reason at all, since we’ve known each other for so many years.”
James Hamilton raised his hands. “As always, the first event will be a race across the lake. The exercise will work up an appetite for lunch. I apologize for the man-made lake. It cannot compare to our chain of natural lakes in Ireland, but it will have to suffice. Seek out your partners, and head down to the rowboats.”
Harry turned away from Thomas and spotted Lambton. “Hurry, D’Arcy!”
“What’s the point?” he drawled. “Your father always wins. He was a champion oarsman for Oxford University.”
Thomas overheard D’Arcy and it spurred him to compete. He grabbed Trixy’s hand. “Will you be my partner?” They were running to the rowboats before she found breath to answer. Rachel and James Butler beat them to the first boat, but Thomas and Beatrix were far ahead of the Duke and Duchess of Abercorn.
Jane was breathless with excitement when Will Montagu offered to share his boat with her, and young Henry Edgcumbe invited Lord John’s wife, Fanny, to be his partner.
Once they were on the lake and the actual rowing began, Abercorn pulled into the lead, and his daughters urged their partners with raucous shouts of “Row faster!” in a competitive desire to beat their father.
Thomas Anson put his back into the effort and pulled on the oars. He was pleased when he shot past Captain Butler, who looked to be in top physical shape. At the halfway point, three of the rowers were even—Abercorn, Thomas, and D’Arcy.
Harry was filled with excitement. “We can win this race, D’Arcy!”
“No, I want your father to win. Once we are married, I want him to recommend me for lord lieutenant of Durham, and he won’t if I make him look bad.”
D’Arcy, there is no way you could make the magnificent Duke of Abercorn look bad.
By sheer dint of will, Thomas Anson began to pass Abercorn. Trixy was beside herself with excitement at the prospect of winning. When their rowboat pulled ahead of her parents’ boat, she stood up and shouted encouragement to Thomas. “Go! Go! Go!”
As it shot forward, Trixy lost her balance, then her footing, and over the side she went with a splash and a scream. She went under, bobbed up with arms flailing, and then went under again.
Immediately, Thomas removed his shoes and dived into the lake. From behind, he firmly grabbed her beneath the arms, and swam with her to the closest bank. He dragged her up onto the grass and
knelt over the gasping, coughing Lady Beatrix. “Are you all right?”
When she nodded and spluttered, he sat her up and slapped her on the back. By this time, Abercorn had reached the end of the lake. He jumped from his rowboat and sprinted toward his daughter.
“Well done, Anson.” He lifted his daughter’s chin and looked into her eyes. “Damnation, Trixy, I’ve taught you better than to stand up in a moving rowboat.” He looked at Thomas. “She knows how to swim. I taught her myself.”
“I think she swallowed too much water and it made her panic.”
Trixy gave him a grateful look. “You were very gallant to dive in for me. I thank you with all my heart, Thomas.”
He grinned at her. “If you are brave enough to get back in and trust me, I’ll row you across the lake so you can go and put on some dry clothes.”
Trixy laughed. “I would trust you with my life, Thomas.”
On the way back across the lake, Trixy confided in him. “Harry has treated you very badly. She didn’t have the time of day for poor old D’Arcy when you started to pay court to her. Now she’s doing the same to you, so she can become the Countess of Durham.”
As Thomas listened to her, certain things began to dawn on him. Trixy is infatuated with D’Arcy Lambton. When I began to court Harry, Trixy thought the way was clear for her to catch D’Arcy. She longs to be the Countess of Durham. Thomas felt her pain.
My dearest Lady Beatrix, there is nothing I would like better than to see you become the Countess of Durham.
Chapter Eight
The Duke of Abercorn provided Thomas with some of his clothes while Anson’s wet garments were laid out to dry. By the time they returned to the party, the gentlemen were bidding on the decorated picnic baskets of the ladies. The identities were kept secret until the auction was completed.
When Trixy’s basket was bought by Will Montagu, and Jane’s was procured by D’Arcy Lambton, the sisters exchanged a gleeful look, for here was their chance to fulfill their pledge and sing the other’s praises.