Duchess By Night (Desperate Duchesses #3)

Duchess By Night (Desperate Duchesses #3) Page 62

Then Villiers, across the table, leaned forward. “Want to go for a walk, Harry?” he said, rising.

She gratefully rose as well. And left without saying goodbye to Jem, though what good that would do from a gossip point of view, she didn’t know.

“I need to start walking, or so my valet tells me,” Villiers said with a little sigh.

“You look much better than you did a few weeks ago,” Harriet said. All the footmen were standing around the corridor. How much could they have heard of Pensickle’s fury? Would he say something to his valet?

“I mend,” Villiers said. Povy bundled the duke into an enormous greatcoat, and Harriet shrugged into her own.

They walked out into the night. There was just a thin fall of powdery snow in the air. It came onto their hats, not seeming to fall as much as to suddenly appear with its chill greeting on lips and noses.

The windows of Fonthill spilled dusky orange-red light onto the snow. They walked silently to the opening of the great gates, and then Villiers paused, leaning against one of the pillars. “Damn, but I’m a husk of a man,” he said, a trace of an apology in his voice.

“So am I,” Harriet said. “Have I ruined his reputation forever, Villiers?”

“It would take an idiot not to know you are bedding each other.”

“I don’t see why!” Harriet cried, frustrated. “He rarely whispers anything to me, or touches me.”

“It’s in your eyes when you look at each other,” Villiers said. “But they’re a strange crew at Fonthill. Most of the women are here for the free bed and board, and they’ll not let a little thing like choice of bedfellow stand in their way of free champagne.”

“That’s—do you really think so?”

“They are hardly acquaintances of Strange’s,” Villiers said. “Sometimes he doesn’t even know the women’s names. I have no idea why he opens his house to every light-skirt who makes her way here, but he does.”

“Never to actual night-walkers,” Harriet objected.

“I suppose he has some standards,” Villiers said wryly. “The majority of them are fending for themselves—either as actresses or as sole practitioners, if I might employ the term.”

“That makes them more interesting than many ladies,” Harriet said.

“Exactly. If we’re discussing men,” Villiers said, “then yes, some of them are friends. There’s the Game, of course, but I actually think men chiefly like this house for intelligent conversation, in combination with cheerfully loose women.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“I’m not yet in a position to avail myself of female company,” he said, still leaning against the pillar.

Harriet threw back her head to look at the stars. Somewhere up there was the new planet, except it wasn’t truly new. It was just new to them. The stars looked cold and very far away.

“Should I leave?” she asked. And she held her breath, because she didn’t want to leave. She wanted—oh, so greedily—more days like these, full of vigorous exercise, vigorous argument, vigorous love-making.

“They’ll discover your true gender soon,” Villiers said. “And if they discover that you’re a duchess, Harriet, then the fat is truly in the fire. It would be disastrous—not for Strange. For you.”

“But it’s just a joke,” Harriet said feebly.

“I saw it that way. If it had been nothing more than a short masquerade, we could have carried it off. But I thought we were talking about a few days. Now it’s a matter of time. The way Strange looks at you…”

“Damn,” Harriet said, heartfelt.

“You haven’t told him who you really are, have you?”

Harriet shook her head.

“He won’t take it well. And, Harriet, the longer you conceal your rank, the more he will see your revelation as a betrayal.”

“I tried to tell him,” Harriet said, near tears. “I couldn’t…I’ll leave.”

“After telling him the truth, I hope. He deserves that.” Villiers had a touch of a smile on his mouth. “How lucky you are.”

“To be so close to complete loss of reputation?” she asked, startled.

“I would pay for such intoxication. I might give up the final shards of my reputation for it. Give yourself one final day to savor. Leave the following day.”

And he began to walk back to the house, favoring his right side, moving slowly.

But Harriet stayed behind, staring at Villiers’s back through the thin, icy veil of snow. She couldn’t squash the hope in her breast.

Surely, surely, Jem would not be able to see her go. They separated during the days, of course. She read in her bedchamber or played with Eugenia.

But when they came together it was with such joy, such intellectual curiosity, such—physical pleasure. Surely he would not just watch her go.

The idea of waving goodbye was as bitter as the faraway stars.

He would tell her that it didn’t matter who she was. He would follow her. Eugenia and he would follow. He would say goodbye to his guests, and come to her estate.

Surely he would.

Chapter Thirty-two

Double the Pleasure

February 21, 1784

T he next day the snow was gone, and the day was clear and cold.

“Riding?” Jem asked, glancing at her when she entered the breakfast room.

She gave him a slight nod, and then turned to greet Kitty. Kitty dragged her over to the side of the room. “I heard all about it!” she said in a thrilled whisper. “I know you must be feeling terrible, but don’t. I told everyone that you weren’t a molly.”

“Oh. Good,” Harriet said.

“You know what a molly is, don’t you?” Kitty asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“It’s what that foolish Pensickle thought you were. As if he’s one to talk! We all know about him. Anyway, I told them—” she leaned over and whispered in Harriet’s ear.

“Really?” Harriet exclaimed. “You—”

“Not only that but that you made myself and Roslyn happy. Roslyn thinks you are perfectly adorable, and she’s so sad about what happened to you. She’s telling everyone about last night. Roslyn is the muse of lyric poetry, you know, and she can really tell a lively story.” Kitty giggled.

“On the same night?”

“Together! You had been only mine, but last night you were so mortified by those horrid untruths that you surpassed yourself!”

“Goodness,” Harriet said, rather faintly.

Kitty kissed her cheek. “I’m your friend, Harry, forever. Don’t forget that.” She went back to her seat.

Jem rose to leave, but paused for a second. The memory of what happened in the middle of the night flashed between them, and Harriet felt herself turning pink. In the dark they had pleasured each other until they were breathless, begging, taking turns with sweet torment…

“From what I hear, I should be taking lessons from you in manhood,” Jem said, his voice just loud enough so that it could be heard by the room.

There was a stifled burst of giggles from Kitty’s direction.

Harriet grinned at him. “There are times when youth is an advantage,” she said. “Perhaps I could give you a few pointers.”