The Indomitable Miss Harris (11 page)

“I’m surprised he didn’t forbid a second visit,” Gillian commented.

“Oh, he did. Shouted it, in fact. But, for once, he cannot stop me, because he daren’t offend the Tsar. So Catherine pretty nearly has her own way about things. I come here whenever I like, and only my dearest Notti—Miss Cornelia Knight, you know, who has been with me for years—attends me. But even she retires to a smaller sitting room whilst I’m here, and I’m certain she likes the respite quite as much as I do.”

Gillian thoroughly enjoyed the next half hour. The two young women found they shared a good deal in common, particularly their mutual dislike of continually being curbed and restrained. Gillian told her highness about the Harris Heiress stakes and was pleased that Charlotte found the whole notion as absurd as she did herself. But Charlotte’s understanding was acute nonetheless.

“It is difficult when one has something men want, whether ’tis a crown or a fortune. How can we know, my dear Miss Harris, which one of them might like us for ourselves alone? I should like very much to meet a man like that,” she added wistfully.

“Perhaps his grace of Orange will prove to be just such a man, your highness,” suggested Gillian gently.

“Pooh! That stick! I should like to see it,” Charlotte scoffed. “William of Orange wants only one thing, and that is power. He wishes to be King of England, but I become daily more certain that I do not wish to share my throne with such a man.”

When it was time to leave, the princess insisted that Gillian take her carriage, and Gillian could think of no polite way to refuse. But any hope of concealing her visit from Landover was dashed the moment the carriage drew up in front of the house, for as the young footman helped her to alight, she glanced toward the study window to see the marquis himself glaring down at her. There could be no mistaking his expression. Landover was in a blazing fury. Gillian looked helplessly at Ellen when the girl jumped down beside her.

“Oh, Miss Gillian!” the maid wailed. “The cat’s among the pigeons now, right enough!”

Gillian nodded. She could not believe for a moment that Landover wouldn’t recognize the Warwick House livery, but perhaps she might still conceal her visit to the Pulteney Hotel. “You go straight up to Mrs. Periwinkle, Ellen, if she has returned. Offer my apologies, and say it is unlikely I shall be able to join her for luncheon but that I shall speak to her later.” Ellen cast her a speaking look, and Gillian sighed. She would be lucky if she was in shape to speak to anyone later. Landover was no longer at the window, but the one glimpse she had had of him convinced her that it would be a mercy if he didn’t beat her.

He was standing on the threshold of the study when they entered, but he stood aside, making it clear that he meant Gillian to precede him into the room. At that moment, MacElroy entered the hall through the green baize door, and with a glance at him and another at Landover, she turned her eyes toward the grand staircase and squared her shoulders.

“I shouldn’t advise it.” The words were spoken softly, but there was a savage undertone that told her he would brook no further defiance. Wistfully, she watched Ellen hurrying up the stairs to the gallery, and by the time she turned back, MacElroy had disappeared, and she was left to face the marquis alone. He still stood just as he had stood before. Glaring defiantly, she brushed past him into the study, waiting for the click of the door latch before she turned to confront him.

“Would you like to tell me where you’ve been, or shall I guess?” he growled.

“I don’t care if you guess or not!” she flared. “I’ve been with the Princess Charlotte, and that is scarcely a thing to be ashamed of!”

“In other words, you deliberately defied my orders and went to the Pulteney Hotel!” he snapped. “Alone at that.”

“And what if I did?” Gillian shouted, throwing caution to the wind. “I had a perfectly splendid time, and I have not been seduced, abducted, or morally corrupted!” Arms akimbo, she would have said a good deal more, but Landover advanced purposefully, causing her to draw back a step or two with a small gasp of dismay. Her arms dropped to her sides.

He towered over her. “What happened there is of little concern to me at the moment, Miss Harris. But you need a good lesson in obedience. I will not tolerate defiance, and the sooner you learn that, the better it will be for all of us.”

She turned away, unable to cope with his anger head on. “You’ve no right to dictate to me like this, Landover,” she muttered. “I must and will have the right to go where I like and to choose my own friends.” But her breath caught in her throat on the final words when his hands clamped painfully down upon her shoulders. He spun her around again.

“You made a damned fool of me,” he grated wrathfully, shaking her. “To go to that scheming woman after I had written to tell her you would not come! How dare you speak to me of rights, when you show not the slightest sense of civilized courtesy! Your precious duchess is no doubt laughing up her sleeve right now, thanks to you.” He was still shaking her, his fingers bruising her shoulders, and Gillian feared her bones would soon begin to rattle. His words penetrated, but she couldn’t think straight until the shaking became less violent. Then, as her thoughts fell into order again, she realized that he believed she had deliberately set out to defy him, to make him a laughingstock. But when she opened her mouth to refute this notion, he spoke again in a nearly weary tone. “You are quite spoiled, Miss Harris, and have been allowed to chart your own course far too long, but perhaps a month or so spent kicking your heels in Sussex will help bring you to your senses. I dislike having to—”

“No!” She wrenched from his grasp, given extra strength through sheer fury. “No, you’ll not send me away! You’ll not humiliate me like that!” He reached for her again, but she eluded his grasp at first, and when he did succeed in grabbing one of her arms, she launched herself at him, pummeling him with her fists, swinging blindly. But suddenly, it was over, and she cried out as his grip snapped painfully around her wrists, holding her away, and at the same time forcing her almost to her knees. She looked up at him miserably, but the look of intent on his face brought fear welling to the surface, and she cried out again, this time in fright. “Oh, please, no! Please, my lord. It was not what you think! The princess sent her carriage for me! Please, don’t.” The last came as a mere whisper, but her words had an effect. The pressure on her wrists eased, and he helped her to her feet.

“Don’t what, Miss Harris? What did you fear I would do?”

Gathering the shreds of her dignity, Gillian tried to rub feeling back into her numbed wrists and realized that her knees were quaking. She subsided into one of the Kent chairs with a sigh of relief, but her voice still trembled slightly. “I … I thought you meant to beat me.” She glanced up hesitantly. “I am not generally such a coward, my lord, but you are so big, and you looked so fierce.”

“I think you deserve to be beaten for this morning’s work,” he said grimly, “but I do not have that right. If it had been your brother whose orders you defied so outrageously, I daresay you’d smart mightily for it, my girl.”

She could not deny it. Looking up at him from under her lashes, she said quietly, “It was not as you thought, sir. I truly did not intend to go to the Pulteney when I left the house this morning.”

Landover sighed and pulled the other Kent chair closer to hers. “Go on,” he said as he sat down. “I am listening, but it had better be good. You said something about the princess’s carriage.”

So she told him. Sensibly, she made no effort to conceal the fact that she had refused to accompany Mrs. Periwinkle to the Berry sisters’ house in order to indulge in a private shopping spree, but she went to great lengths to prove to Landover how unexceptionable her visit to the Pulteney had been. He wasn’t particularly receptive.

“I cannot approve any association with the Duchess of Oldenburg. That woman is not to be trusted.”

“She was perfectly charming, sir. She said nothing to which anyone—even you—might object.”

“She is a manipulator. No doubt she is using the princess for her own ends and would not hesitate to use you as well, could she but think of a way to do so.”

“Nonsense! She truly likes the princess. I have seen them together, and you have not!” Her voice had begun to rise, but Landover quelled her temper with a gesture and a mocking smile.

“Easy, child. Stay off the high ropes. You cannot afford to antagonize me further. It is not impossible that the duchess truly likes her highness. The Princess Charlotte is a most likable young lady. Nevertheless, the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg is mistress of a world you know nothing about. She is dangerous, Gillian, and I want your promise you will have nothing further to do with her.”

“Very well,” she replied grudgingly, “but I cannot make such a promise with regard to her highness, so pray do not ask it of me.”

“Perhaps we can effect a compromise,” he agreed with a smile. “I would prefer that you steer clear of the royal ménage altogether, but I really have no valid objection to your friendship with the princess. It is not what I like, and I must urge you to be most circumspect, but if you are careful, I will withdraw my objections.”

“Then I,” returned Miss Harris grandly, “will be only too happy to give my solemn promise to avoid her grace.” Then a thought occurred to her, and she looked at him with a shy smile. “You will not send me home?”

“For the moment, we will agree that I was perhaps a trifle hasty. However,” he added on a warning note, “you are not off the hook entirely. There remains the small matter of your departure from the house this morning.”

“I am sorry for that, sir,” Gillian said meekly.

But Landover wasn’t fooled for a moment. “Are you?”

She looked up, prepared to insist upon it, but discovered when she looked into his eyes that she could not lie to him. Flustered, she looked away again. “I am not used to such constraint, my lord.”

“No doubt, but if you wish to remain in London, you will submit, my girl,” he declared implacably. “Do you know that my first thought when I discovered you were not with Amelia Periwinkle was that you had been abducted? It was not a pleasant thought. Fortunately, you returned before I had begun a concerted search.”

“The Harris Heiress stakes,” she muttered bitterly.

“Exactly. But besides disobeying me, you deceived your cousin, and that was not well done of you. For that, if for nothing else, you deserve to be punished.”

Gillian bit her lower lip. He was right. Her behavior had been childish. She looked at him, and her voice was small. “What will you do?”

“I don’t know,” he replied candidly. “Have you any suggestions?”

She swallowed carefully. “It is Wednesday, so I suppose you could forbid my going to Almack’s tonight. I should be unhappy to miss the assembly, but perhaps you would not consider that sufficient punishment.”

His reaction astonished her. “Oh, no you don’t!” he retorted, his eyes alight with sudden amusement. “I don’t doubt for a moment that you would consider it a punishment, but it would be a far worse one for me, and I’ve done nothing at all to deserve it!”

“My lord?” Her face was blank with confusion.

He chuckled. “No, of course not, how should you know what I’m talking about? We are dining at Harmoncourt House before the assembly, and I wish you to be there.”

“I did not know we were to dine out.”

“If you had not slipped out this morning,” he pointed out, “you would know. My sister descended upon me at an ungodly hour to inform me that it is time I set up my nursery.”

“Surely not, my lord!” Gillian gurgled.

He grinned at her. “I left out the wife part. That comes first, of course. Abigail intends to introduce me to a suitable damsel this very evening.”

“Do you always submit to her dictation, my lord?” She could barely conceal her delight at the news.

“Well, not always,” he conceded, “but I daresay she’s right this time. She chose to fling Orison in my teeth.” He paused suddenly, shooting her a rather searching look. Gillian shifted a bit in her chair, self-consciously smoothing her skirt.

“Orison, sir? Your cousin?”

“And heir. Odd that you and Sybilla were discussing him only yesterday, is it not? Abigail says he’s getting notions above his station. Haven’t noticed it myself, but I daresay she’s got the right of it. Abigail’s a very noticing female. Anyway, it is time I settled down, I suppose, so I’ve no objection if she wants to trot a few possibles across the track; however, I’d just as soon not be abandoned entirely to this chit’s tender mercies, so you will not stay at home tonight.”

Gillian found, to her amazement, that his attitude annoyed her. She should be grateful for his acquiescence, she scolded herself. Instead she merely thought him arrogant and rather poor-spirited besides. She rose to her feet.

“If we are to dine at Harmoncourt House, I must wash my hair earlier than I had intended, sir. Pray, will you excuse me now.’

He said nothing, but when she turned to go, he stood and placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder. “One moment, Miss Harris.”

She turned back to him, intensely aware of his nearness and strangely pleased when he placed his other hand on the opposite shoulder. “Sir?”

He looked down into her eyes, and she felt her pulse quicken. Color crept into her cheeks. “We are leaving a loose end or two, are we not?” His voice was as gentle as his touch, and she could think of nothing to say. “Perhaps it is just as well,” he went on when she lowered her lashes and did not speak. “Next time you are tempted to misbehave, perhaps you will remember that the dibs are not in tune and will resist the temptation.”

“I … I’ll try, sir.”

“I shall accept nothing but perfection, Miss Harris. You will no doubt become a paragon of propriety.”

“Oh dear,” she murmured.

He squeezed one shoulder and nudged her toward the door. “It won’t be so bad as all that, you know. You may even enjoy it.”

She wrinkled her nose in disbelief, but he only chuckled. A moment later, as she climbed the stairs, she realized how close a call she had had, and for a moment, her knees threatened to betray her. But then she remembered that Lady Harmoncourt had entered the lists, and her heart began to sing again. Soon she would be free of his constant surveillance, free to be herself again. Oddly, the notion seemed to lack some of its earlier flavor.