Lord Harry's Folly by Catherine Coulter (good romance books to read TXT) 📗

a crowded ballroom. “Your termagant of a sister just informed me a few minutes ago, else I would never have allowed her to batter me with her foil.”

“Batter? It was more than just battering, Julien. I had my foil at your throat at the time. But look at you now, all puffed up in your husbandly conceit. Just like a man, acting like a crowing bandy rooster, so proud of your prowess. And you, Harry, agreeing with him. I ask you, Lord Monteith, is it just for a woman to sit docilely about, doing nothing at all that is any fun, just because she is pregnant, while men issue all the orders and strut about?”

“It isn’t at all fair,” Hetty said promptly, forgetting that she was a gentleman. “I’ve heard that exercise is very beneficial for a lady who is in the family way.” Oh dear, the earl was looking at her now, and he was surprised.

Kate rounded on her husband with a crow of delight. “You see, Julien, not all gentlemen are so confoundedly staid and pompous. I insist that you back Lord Monteith instantly for White’s. How I wish that I could be a member of White’s. What sport it would be. I would wager that I would best you in fencing within six months.”

Hetty looked away from Harry’s sister to see that the earl’s eyes were still on her face. Drat the man. The earl said easily, “A most unusual stance you take, sir. A member of White’s you shall be. Perhaps your unconventional views may sway some of us more pompous, staid gentlemen to more moderate stands.”

“I thank you, my lord,” Hetty said.

“How kind of you, Julien.” The countess threw her arms about the earl’s neck and hugged him fiercely. Laughing, he clasped her about her still slender waist and lifted her above him. Her long hair swirled over her shoulders and onto his face.

“Let me down, you great brute. We mustn’t shock poor Lord Monteith. He isn’t used to your ways, my lord.”

“Your ways as well, madam,” the earl said. “Lord Monteith will learn soon enough that I must fight for every shred of male dignity. Come, Kate, should we not offer our guests some tea. Perhaps some claret for your brother? Ah, but first, let’s remove this carpet.”

But not a moment later, George entered the library carrying a beautiful silver tray that held tea and morning cakes. The earl laughed. “George helps us maintain decorum. Do sit down, Lord Monteith and take some refreshment. I assure you that we aren’t always so rough and tumble. Well, perhaps most of the time we are, but if there’s warning, then”

“You will hold your tongue, Julien,” the countess said, and took a bit of lemon seed cake.

“Dashed good cakes,” Sir Harry said, his own mouth full with his second bite.

The earl said to Hetty, “Harry here informs me that you hail from the North Country. I suppose you must find London ways a bit unusual.”

She agreed readily, thankful the earl hadn’t asked her to be more forthcoming about her specific origins. “It is different in many ways here, but I like London very much. Everyone has been most kind to me. Particularly Harry here. He’s a great friend.”

Sir Harry beamed. “Lord Harry ain’t so much the rustic anymore either. Except for his clothes, that is.”

Kate said, “Don’t be unkind, my dear. I find nothing at all wrong with Lord Monteith’s clothing. It is just that you have an overfondness for yellow-striped waistcoats and very tight breeches. Not that they don’t look well on you, for they do, the tight breeches, that is.”

“Certainly they look well on me. Now, Lord Harry his breeches are far too loose. His coats, too.”

“A grave shortcoming,” the earl said with a smile. “Harry tells me that you fence with Signore Bertioli.”

Hetty nodded, unconsciously rubbing her arm. “I have a fondness for the sport, as does, it appear, her ladyship.”

The earl said, “I have, myself, fenced with Bertioli upon occasion and found his techniques most unusual. He knows tricks that few Englishmen have ever seen. Perhaps you would care to cross foils with me, Lord Monteith.”

Hetty thought the possibility quite unlikely, if she had any say in the matter, but she smiled and nodded. “I would say that her ladyship must have first claims, my lord. If her quickness of wit is any measure of her skill, you hold in her a very worthy opponent.”

“She’s a damned brute,” Sir Harry said. “She nearly thrust her foil through my gullet once. Lord, Kate, but that seems ages ago. Goodness, Father was still alive and”

“True, Harry, and of no interest whatsoever to Lord Monteith. Tell me, sir, do you also shoot wafers at Manton’s?”

“Now no one can beat Lord Harry at that,” Sir Harry said before Hetty could even open her mouth. “Never challenge him to a duel, Julien, for I vow he could trim your sails, at least with pistols. He never misses.”

“You exaggerate, Harry.”

“Narry a bit. You must come with us to Manton’s, Julien. You can see for yourself that Lord Harry is quite the expert.”

“I just might do that,” the earl said easily, looking closely at Hetty.

When at last Hetty rose and took the countess’s hand in hers, she said simply, “Harry is an excellent friend, my lady. He has the sunniest of tempers.”

Sir Harry turned to his brother-in-law. “Now don’t forget, Julien, to take care of Lord Harry’s membership this afternoon. We’ve a wonderful celebration planned for this evening.”

“That’s a frightening thought,” the earl said. “Both of you rest assured I shall do what I’ve promised. Take care, Monteith. No doubt I shall see you at White’s.”

“Thank you, my lord, for your kindness,” Hetty said, bowing formally to the earl.

Late that same evening as the earl and countess of March lay close together in their bed, Kate nuzzled her cheek against her husband’s neck and whispered, “Now, my lord, will you allow me to continue with our fencing lessons? You