Harriett Edgerton wished to cover her ears as she opened the parlor door. The jarring call of a street peddler from outside in Mount Street competed with her sister, Leonora, her tantrum now at full volume.

“I will not!” Leonora shook her head of golden curls. Her blue eyes flashed.

“My darling girl!” Mama rested her embroidery in her lap, “It can’t be such a horrid thing, surely.”

Leonora stamped her foot. “But this is my come-out. It’s important for me to make an appearance at Lady Frodsham’s ball on Saturday evening. Why must we visit Cousin Harrison now? He never comes to see us here in London. Why, we haven’t seen him for an age.”

“He’s not been well, dear.”

Harriett knew that delicacy forbade her mother to mention Cousin Harrison had no heirs to his fortune. With his wife, Elizabeth long dead and his son, Jack buried somewhere on the battlefields of Spain, interest had risen amongst his relatives. The Edgerton’s might have been above such dealings had her father’s investments not suffered a devastating blow with the sinking of the Ventris on the high seas. Now, her mother felt it would serve them well to appear before him, while he was still above ground.

Harriett sat down by the tea tray. The late afternoon sun streamed through the bay windows, exposing the shabbiness of the faded Turkey rug. Dust motes swirled in the draft. Dusting was no longer a daily occurrence at Edgerton House, now run by a small staff whose duties her mother carefully managed. Mama had succeeded thus far in impressing on society that the family had not sunk into dun territory. Behind the scenes, however, strict economies now ruled their lives.

“Leonora has never been fond of the country,” Harriett pointed out. She selected a jam tartlet from amongst the cakes on the tea plate. “Whenever we visit Aunt Georgina, she chafes until we return.”

“And you’ve never felt as I do about London,” Leonora retorted. “Perhaps you would like it a great deal better if you’d received a good offer in your first Season.”

“I don’t believe so.” Harriett took a bite of the tartlet and chewed unconcernedly. Whether married or not, she would always prefer country life to Town.

“Harriett did receive an offer,” her mother said with an exasperated glance in Harriet’s direction. “A handsome one. She chose not to accept it.” She cut a thread with a snap of her small scissors. “If she didn’t have her father wrapped around her little finger, she would be married to Mr. Ducksworth by now.”

At the tail end of this sentence, Harriet’s father entered the room. “Are we about to travel over old ground, my love?”

Harriett put down her half-eaten tartlet and went to slip her arm through her father’s. She smiled at him. “I felt Harriett showed very good sense to refuse him,” he continued. “The man spoke nothing but fustian nonsense.”

“Charles! He’s worth two thousand pounds a year,” his wife entreated.

“And well may he enjoy it.”

Harriet caught her father’s thoughtful frown with a sense of unease. “Shall I fetch your snuff box, Father?”

“No thank you, my dear.” He settled in his favorite leather wingchair by the fire. Running a hand through his faded red hair, he gazed into the flames.

Harriett perched on a cushion at his feet and toasted her toes by the fire. She felt a twinge of guilt. She could have improved her family’s situation if she’d married Mr. Ducksworth. She admitted to being horribly selfish, but she could not countenance spending the rest of her life with a stuffy prig. She yearned for so much more from marriage. To be thrilled and excited by it. To be passionately in love.

She picked up the farming periodical she’d left on the table and flicked through it, thinking of Cousin Harrison’s nephew, Gerard, whose property ran beside Pendleton. His dark, handsome face appeared in her mind’s eye. It was years since she’d seen him and she wondered if he was much changed. “Are we to visit Foxworth, Mama?”

“No indeed. Why would we?”

“Do I have to go to the country, Father?” Leonora trailed a hand over the back of his chair and dimpled at him.

“You do, Leonora, and we shall hear no more about it.”

After Leonora left the room to stomp up the stairs, Harriett picked up the poker and stabbed the coals. “If only I might find employment.”

When she returned to sit at her father’s feet, he patted her head. “Ladies don’t take paid work, Harriett.”

“Well they should,” she said. It made a good deal of sense. “It would take the pressure away from those who have to keep them.”

“Enough Harriett!” Her mother tucked her embroidery away in its box. “Come upstairs. We must see to your wardrobe. You need to be dressed well.”

“Yes,” Harriett agreed with a grin in her father’s direction. “I’m not blessed with Leonora’s looks.”

“But you have something very special indeed.” Her father winked back at her. “A quick wit and a lively intelligence.”

“A lively intelligence does not attract a rich husband,” her mother said crossly. “Come now, please, Harriett.”

♥♥♥

“Whoa, there.”

Gerard, Earl of Foxworth, eased the long chains on the draft horses pulling the plough, and stopped to judge the unplowed field ahead. The day was hot and this was thirsty work. He uncapped one of his leather water flasks and drank, the water trickling down his throat and over his bare chest. Removing his hat, he filled it with water and offered it the horses. As his horses drank, Gerard thought about what he’d learned this morning from Harrison, that Lord and Lady Edgerton and their two daughters were coming to visit Pendleton Manor. While Gerard was keen to see them again, it was deuced inconvenient. They couldn’t have come at a worse time. Harrison’s condition had deteriorated, which made things very difficult. Gerard was taking on more work over at Pendleton every day. Harrison had dismissed the steward, who he claimed was untrustworthy. Although the coachman and groom had been with Harrison for years, several other members of the staff were newly hired and as yet untried.

He waved at Ben, who’d dug his spade into the dirt and raised a hand to block the sun. “You’ve done well. Almost time for luncheon,” Gerard called.

“Right, ye are, milord.” Ben’s grin split his face from ear to ear. He was a good lad. Gerard had discovered him thin and homeless in Temple Ewell, just passing through in search of farm work and regular meals.

Gerard urged the horse to work again wondering idly if either of the Edgerton girls was engaged. News took a long time to reach him in the country. He hadn’t seen them for years, not since they were school room misses. Now that his townhouse had been rented, he rarely stayed in London for the Season.