Duchess By Night

Harriet gave him a cool little smile. “There are so many people in your house that it’s difficult to enumerate one’s acquaintances.”



“After your appointment, then,” he said softly. “I stay up quite late and I’ll warrant Kitty does as well. Shall we say eleven o’clock?”



All the stable boy mentioned was learning how to trot. And mount. How long could that take?



“I’m not sure Kitty will want to stay up so late,” Harriet said. “It sounds as if she had a strenuous day’s exercise.”



“Oh, it’s not so strenuous,” Kitty said with a giggle. “I spent a great deal of it on my back.”



The little line between Isidore’s brow deepened. “I’m afraid that I couldn’t possibly join you at that hour,” she said, politely enough. “I’m quite exhausted.”



“What a pity,” Strange said. He stopped looking at Harriet and gave Isidore a lavish smile. “It won’t be nearly as enjoyable without you.”



Harriet had a sudden, shocking realization. If Strange ever gave her that kind of smile, she would lose her composure. She might even beg him to take her to bed.



“Eleven o’clock,” Kitty said. “Would you like more angels than just myself? I’m sure—” she oogled Strange “—any number of Graces would love to perform tonight, Lord Strange. To sing madrigals, we need three.”



“I think all we need tonight is you,” Strange said smoothly.



Kitty erupted into giggles.



A thought occurred to Harriet. Something about what Kitty might be thinking. Her mouth fell open and at that same moment, Isidore’s fingers dug into her arm.



“I need to speak to you. At once!” she hissed.



Strange was standing up, signaling a general move away from the table. He paused just for a moment. “My guests await, and you, Mr. Cope, have an appointment…Shall we say eleven o’clock in the library? Mr. Povy can direct you.” Without waiting for a response, he walked away.



Isidore’s grip strengthened. “Harriet!”



Harriet turned to Kitty, wanting to say something. But there was a deep excitement and—yes—enjoyment in Kitty’s eyes that stopped the words in her mouth. Kitty was perfectly happy with the idea of Mr. Cope, Lord Strange, and one solitary angel. Harriet swallowed.



“Eleven o’clock!” Kitty said, trotting away.



Isidore dragged Harriet to the side of the room. “Do you have any idea what Kitty is planning to do tonight, Harriet? Do you?”



“I just figured it out!” Harriet said, panic making her head reel. “I had no idea!”



“You must stay in your room,” Isidore stated. “Better: you can sleep with me in case Strange walks straight into your bedchamber.” She looked around, but almost everyone had left the dining room. “Harriet, this is a—a degenerate house! These people are—are—they are doing things—”



Harriet couldn’t help laughing a little. “Isidore, you knew that. Why do you think that Jemma said she wouldn’t come here, even though she’d hosted all sorts of shocking parties in Paris? Her Paris events roused scandals because someone’s costume was a bit risqué, or a married woman paraded around with someone else’s husband. Strange’s reputation—and his house parties—are on a totally different scale.”



“I didn’t understand the reality of it. It makes me feel unclean to even be here! Where is Villiers? I thought he was supposed to protect us. Harriet, what are you going to do?” Isidore’s eyes were bright and alarmed.



“Well, I’m not going to engage in any sort of hankypanky with an angel,” Harriet said, practically. “You needn’t worry about that. I’ll figure something out. Perhaps I’ll claim to be ill and just leave Strange and Kitty together.”



“Ugh!” Isidore said. “I don’t like him at all now, Harriet. I don’t like it here. Two men and one woman.” She shuddered. “So far I’ve been bored to tears by half-clothed virgins and invited to hear madrigals sung by angels. I find the mixture of culture and nudity tedious. But you’re having fun with Strange, aren’t you?”



“It’s nothing to do with Strange,” Harriet said, though she was lying. It was Strange. Half her pleasure, perhaps more, came from the time she spent with him, fencing with rapiers, fencing with words. Of course, it wasn’t a real attraction. The pleasure had to be coming from the fact it was all so illicit to hunger for a man who didn’t even think of her as a woman.



Not that she would ever consider going to that library to meet Strange—and Kitty.



Not even to see Strange unclothed.



“It’s because of how much fun I’m having in male clothing,” she told Isidore. “I’ve never been so free before.”



“I don’t want to be this free,” Isidore said. “I’m turning more and more staid by the moment.”



“I can lend you my breeches,” Harriet suggested. And then: “I forgot my appointment!”



“What appointment?” Isidore exclaimed. “Not another appointment with a woman, surely?”



“It’s at the stables,” Harriet said. “A very nice stableboy is going to teach me how to mount a horse properly. I keep almost falling off the other side.”



Isidore rolled her eyes. “I am going to bed. I think I may announce a case of infectious red spots tomorrow. Anything to keep the Graces out of my bedchamber. And Strange. I certainly don’t want him bursting in on me while I’m in my nightgown again. I hardly had my hair brushed.”



Harriet watched her climb the stairs, thinking about just how much she’d like Strange to visit her bedchamber, if he knew she was a woman.



She wouldn’t care if her hair were brushed. She would just—



She wrenched her mind away. That was foolishness.



Chapter Eighteen



Harriet’s Shock, Part Two



T wo minutes later she was walking into the warm stable. It smelled of clean horses, leather, and manure. The horses poked their heads over their stalls and whickered for a carrot.



“Good evening, Nick!” she said, as the boy appeared around the end of the stable. “This is so very kind of you. You must be exhausted after a day’s labor.”



“It’s me good deed for the day, miss,” he said. “My mother would never forgive me if I let you be discovered.” He hesitated.



Harriet smiled at him. “You very likely want to give me a warning about Lord Strange’s establishment.”



“Anyone can tell, miss,” he burst out, “that you’re not the usual sort of woman who stays at the house. It’s not the place for you.”



“I’m a widow,” she said. “I promise you that I’m not shocked, Nick.”



“Married is one thing,” he said stubbornly. “But you’re a lady, and ladies don’t have a place here.”



She couldn’t help smiling at that. She knew quite well that Isidore would agree with him. “I promise you I won’t stay even a moment if my disguise is uncovered,” she said. “Would that make you feel better?”



Then she leaned to kiss his cheek because he was—