Regency High Society Vol 1: A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel. Mary Brendan

the oddest thing,’ she finished, wiping her eyes. ‘One of the young daredevils has actually sent me a billet-doux but neglected to sign his name, so I fear I shall never know who my reluctant admirer is!’

      ‘Then he must take his chances with the rest of us,’ chaffed Lord William. ‘I have no doubt you will now be so inundated with invitations from our neighbours that I shall have to make an appointment.’

      Harriet shook her head vigorously. ‘Not so, my lord,’ she responded, with great seriousness. ‘Your requirements would always take precedence. I have come to regard you as—almost—as a—father. Is that very presumptuous of me? I do miss him so.’

      The earl was silent for a moment and Harriet was afraid that she had offended him with her impetuous remark until he took her hands in his and said, warmly, ‘Harriet, my dear child, you have paid me the greatest compliment. I am well aware of the deep bond that existed between your father and yourself. When you have been with me I have often found myself regretting that I did not spend as much time with my own daughters as I might have done—although I must confess that I do not recall them having quite as lively a nature …’

      His eyes twinkled at the blush that appeared as he patted her cheek. ‘Do not be so eager to extinguish it completely, dear girl. I am already filled with envy that your grandfather is soon to be the fortunate recipient of your infectious chuckle.’

      ‘I pray that I find such favour with him,’ said Harriet fervently.

      ‘I cannot think that you will fail to do so,’ his lordship vociferated, ‘unless he is blind or deaf or the greatest curmudgeon ever and we know that he cannot be any of these, for he is presently braving the tribulations of long-distance travel to come to your rescue!’

      Harriet nodded and rose to her feet, seeing Chegwin approaching with the earl’s medication. ‘That’s true,’ she said. ‘And my consolation is that the longer he takes the more time I can spend with you!’

      ‘Away with you, shameless hussy,’ laughed Beldale. Then a thought struck him. ‘Go and practise your beguiling charms on Sandford—I’ll warrant he is not so easily moved!’

      Harriet smilingly wagged her finger at him and left the room, with every intention of keeping as far away from the viscount as good manners allowed, for she was perplexed to find that his very presence suddenly seemed capable of exercising the strangest effect upon her composure. At the morning service, for instance, he had elected to stand next to her in the family pew and his fingers had (quite accidentally, she was sure) brushed against hers as she had leaned forward to pick up her prayer book. This, for some reason that she could not fathom, had prevented her from finding her place and he had taken her book from her and had handed her his own, open at the correct page. She was not even sure that she had given her responses correctly, so aware had she been of Sandford’s own resonant, articulate returns. Worst of all, she was sure that she had detected an undercurrent of suppressed laughter in his voice and a swift sideways glance at him had revealed his amused scrutiny of her discomposure. His eyes had held that same disconcerting gleam, which she had done her best to ignore on the previous evening. When he had helped her into and out of the carriage his hand had seemed to linger on her arm a fraction too long and she had, once more, been conscious of the unrelenting intensity of his gaze as he sat opposite Lady Caroline and herself during the ride home from church.

      Mentally shaking herself, Harriet hesitated outside the earl’s door, unable to decide whether to return to the safety of her own room and stay out of harm’s way or to venture downstairs. The events of the last few days were clearly affecting her brain, she concluded, and turned resolutely to the head of the stairway, only to perceive the object of her reverie emerging from his own chambers nearby.

      ‘Ah, Miss Cordell!’

      Sandford registered Harriet’s violent start at his appearance but made no comment. He had, in fact, been listening somewhat impatiently for the click of his father’s door-latch to signal her emergence; therefore his presence was no accident.

      ‘You have been regaling his lordship with a fuller and more entertaining account of last evening’s delights than that with which I was able to furnish him, I imagine?’

      He seemed to Harriet to be in possession of some private and amusing intelligence and this added to her sense of confusion.

      Oh, well—yes—that is—I did my best to do so,’ she answered, in breathless agitation, at the same time attempting a decorous retreat to her own quarters, but he put out his hand to stay her movements.

      ‘Would you care to join me in a carriage ride?’ His voice suddenly seemed almost boyish in its eagerness. ‘It is such a lovely afternoon and I have to inspect some cottages. I would be honoured if you would accompany me.’

      Harriet’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘That is very good of you, my lord,’ she said cautiously. ‘I confess I should be glad to get out into the air. If I may just collect my bonnet … ?’

      Sandford, watching her disappear into her room, had a sudden insane urge to leap on to the banisters he was holding and slide down them, just as he and Philip had done in their youth. Instead, to March’s grinning amazement, he bounded down the stairs two at a time and ordered up the carriage.

      Sitting on his box behind the driving-seat, Tiptree wondered dismally if he was witnessing his colonel’s’ last stand. Having been privy to most of the ‘guvnor’s intermittent campaigns into ‘petticoat territory’, he had to admit that he couldn’t recall anything quite like this one. There had been that stunning blonde in Vienna, he mused, until Lord Sandford had discovered that the lady was a damned sight more interested in his money than in his manners and a certain contessa in Salamanca had seemed to be streaking to the winning post except for her unfortunate tendency to gamble heavily—not one of his lordship’s favourite pastimes, Tiptree knew, considering the anguish such profligacy had brought to certain close members of the family. Other beauties had been guilty of having either no conversation at all or far too much and one memorable dazzler had kept dogs! Tiptree shuddered at the recollection of trying to keep three dribbling lapdogs under control in his lordship’s open carriage whilst his master accompanied her ladyship into a milliner’s salon. Those boots had never recovered, he thought, scowling at the back of Harriet’s chip-straw bonnet, as though she were to blame. So, what was special about this one? he wondered. Her dad had been a real good goer, he allowed, and her ma—well she had been a proper trooper in her time. He’d never heard anything either good or bad about the daughter. She was certainly no beauty, not to his taste, anyway, with her ginger hair and cat’s eyes, although she was quite a taking little thing—plucky, too and with a laugh that ‘fetched the sun out', so he’d heard Smithers say, not that there was much sign of it at the moment, he observed.

      Harriet was doing her best to remember Martha’s teachings. Her back was straight, her feet were together and her gloved hands were clasped neatly in her lap. Her eyes she kept firmly to the front, on the road ahead. She had exhausted her entire fund of polite conversation, wondering glumly if the English gentlewoman’s lot in life were always this dreary and almost wishing that she had stayed at Beldale. Sandford, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself hugely. Out of the corner of her eye she had caught sight of a wide grin on his face, his beaver hat was tipped rakishly to the back of his head and his whole bearing seemed to be one of carefree relaxation, while she herself felt foolishly stiff and uncomfortable.

      ‘How about the hedges?’ His voice was brimming with suppressed laughter.

      ‘I beg your pardon?’ She half-turned towards him, and then quickly recovered.

      ‘Well now, let’s see,’ he continued. ‘We’ve had the weather—yes, it is extraordinarily warm for the time of year! And it is fortunate that the rain is keeping off for the haymaking and, yes, the orchards are full of fruit and, yes, I do consider thatching to be the most skilful of crafts!’

      Harriet could feel a chuckle starting in her chest and struggled to suppress its unruly behaviour. ‘Wh-what about the hedges?’ she asked, holding her breath, but refusing to look at him.

      ‘Let’s