Duchess By Night

“Not mine,” Harriet said, “Mr. Cope’s.”



“Well, then, my reputation will be ruined forever,” Jem pointed out, “since you are Mr. Cope. All my father’s worst nightmares come true.”



“You’d better leave then.”



“I’m not leaving.”



Harriet sighed and started looking about for her dressing gown.



“When Sally died,” Jem said chattily, “I suspect that everyone thought that I would go back to my hell-raking ways. I didn’t.”



“Because you loved her so much?” Harriet hoped her tone wasn’t surly. She didn’t feel surly…much.



“No. I loved her, but loving a dead woman wouldn’t necessarily stop a man from sleeping with a lively courtesan.”



This struck Harriet as male logic. “If you’re not leaving,” she said flatly, “I am. Do not follow me; Isidore is certainly still unclothed.”



And she walked straight through the connecting door.



When he thumped on the door, she took the precaution of locking it.



Isidore stuck her head up from the covers. Her hair was tumbling around her shoulders. “What’s happening?” she asked fuzzily. Then her eyes widened. “Is there a rat in your room?”



“Not exactly,” Harriet said.



“Harriet, open this door,” Jem bellowed.



Isidore fell backwards. “Oh, Harriet.”



“You are going to marry me,” Jem bellowed. “And you know it!”



Harriet choked. “I am not going to marry you. But thank you for the proposal.”



“Lord Strange just asked you to marry him,” Isidore said in a faintly awed tone. “Harriet!”



“And I said no,” Harriet’s heart was beating fast. It was the first time a man had asked her to marry him of his own volition. Benjamin’s proposal came about through an arrangement between their fathers.



“Why don’t you?” Isidore hissed. “I don’t mean to be mercenary, but in case you’ve forgotten, he’s terribly rich. And charming.”



The door shook as a fist pounded into it again. Jem bellowed: “Harriet, open this door or I’ll break it down.”



Isidore gave a little shriek. “Open it!”



“Let’s see if he can really break it down,” Harriet responded.



The entire door frame shook and there was the groan of splitting wood.



“He can,” Isidore said happily. She was sitting up in bed now. “This is so exciting. And romantic! I wish my husband would break down the door to fetch me.”



The door shuddered under the next blow. “I listened to everything you said!” Jem shouted. “You have little girls next door, and kittens in the barn, and what you’re really saying is that you love Eugenia.”



Harriet unlocked the door and swung it open.



He was standing there, hair on end, eyes fierce. “You’ll marry me.”



“No, I won’t.”



He narrowed his eyes. “We’ll discuss that later. If you stay, I’ll let you take Eugenia for a visit.”



“I can’t stay here forever, in breeches. This won’t work for me, Jem. I’m not who you think I am.”



“I know exactly who you are,” he said promptly. “You’re the wife of a country squire, who died in some sort of accident.”



Isidore made a sharp little movement but said nothing.



“My husband didn’t die in an accident!” But she didn’t want to tell him the truth, either. Benjamin’s death was still her secret.



“Call it what you wish,” Jem said. “He died in his own bed, then.”



It was more or less true, so she nodded.



“You came here on a lark, and now you want to fly back to your tidy little nest. But I’m not going to let you. I’ve never asked a woman to marry me, ever. Do you realize that?”



“You didn’t ask me,” she pointed out. “You issued an ultimatum. And while I am gratified to think you are having new experiences, I don’t mean to marry you.”



Jem, being Jem, instantly switched tactics. “The real point at issue now is whether you want Eugenia to pay you a visit, or whether you can reconcile it with your conscience to leave her here, locked up in the west wing like a cracked, aging relative, vulnerable to rats and Lord knows what else.”



“You shouldn’t use Eugenia as blackmail,” Harriet said, frowning at him. “She’s your daughter.”



“She’s my wild card,” he said. “You’re in a fair way to loving her, Harriet, which is a good thing because when we marry, you’ll be her mother.”



“I haven’t said I’d marry you!” Harriet said with some exasperation. “You just won’t—”



He grabbed her. You’d think his kiss would have been as aggressive as his talk, not to mention the way he practically beat down the door.



But it wasn’t. It was so sweet it melted her heart. His lips were hot on hers, silent, delicate. But she was no fool. It was a diplomatic parley, his kiss. It was a shot over her bow from a pirate ship, a notice that she wasn’t going to leave his territory without a fight.



And God help her, her arms went around his neck. He rewarded her by tightening his arms around her. She opened her lips to him like a starving woman, and what he brought her—what he brought her made her heart bloom, made the current in her blood turn to sparks, hot and burning.



“Will you stay?” he asked her a bit later, his voice quiet and steady. “Please stay, Harriet. I know I’m not very good at listening, but I’m learning to be your audience. I remember everything you’ve said to me. Please.”



Harriet heard Isidore sigh, behind her. “I’ll stay with you, Harriet,” she said softly.



“All right,” Harriet managed.



His long fingers cupped her cheek. “I can’t let you go.”



“Will you keep me locked in the west wing?” She didn’t know where that came from, but it made sense.



He froze for a moment, that long graceful body still. “I suppose you are giving me a lesson, Harriet mine.”



“Good morning, Lucille!” came a sprightly voice from the bed behind them. “Just ignore these two.”



Harriet turned, but Jem pulled her back against him. “You see, Lucille,” he said, bending to kiss Harriet’s neck, “I have discovered your mistress’s secret and I must say, it makes me very happy.”



“I’m going to stay a few more days, Lucille,” Harriet said.



“I’ll stay as well,” Isidore said promptly.



Lucille looked bewildered. She was carrying a stack of perfectly folded stockings, ready to be packed in Harriet’s trunk.



“I can send you home with outriders, Isidore,” Jem said. “You’ll be perfectly safe. I could find a good woman from the village to accompany you.”



But Isidore was giggling. “No. It’s like watching one of my favorite plays.”



“But Your G—” Lucille began and then stopped, catching Harriet’s eye.



“I plan to stay in my male clothing, of course,” Harriet said calmly, as if Lucille had said nothing. “We shall continue our visit for a brief period of time.”

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