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

but she could see no harm in a light flirtation. She thought speculatively about Lord Oberlon. Perhaps just such a flirtation with a gentleman some years his junior would make him realize her value. Maybe, she thought, he would purchase her the phaeton and pair to keep her delicious person all to himself.

“Don’t concern yourself about Lord Oberlon. You’ve committed no impertinence, my lord, by visiting me.” She rose and laid her hand lightly on Lord Harry’s sleeve. “What is your direction, my lord, so that I may send word to you when the opportunity presents itself? I do love to ride in the park,” she added on a small sigh, a gutless sigh that that damned heroine would make. She even managed to wilt just a bit, but not enough to lose the impact of her cleavage.

Once Lord Harry’s direction was written down in a thin white book, Hetty clasped Melissande’s hand once again and brought it to her lips. “Au revoir, my goddess,” she said. Melissande’s flesh was warm and soft. Hetty felt distinctly odd, kissing another woman’s hand.

No sooner had the front door closed behind them than Mr. Scuddimore nearly tripped over his tongue with outrage. “Damn you, Lord Harry. Have you taken leave of your senses? That lady is under the protection of the Marquess of Oberlon. His grace, the Marquess of Oberlon. Jason Cavander. Good God, he would slit your throat without a second thought if he found out. Are you lost to all reason? By God, after your argument with the marquess at White’s” Mr. Scuddimore drew to a sudden halt, his brain having finally leaped to an obvious conclusion. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he said slowly. “You planned it. All that damned flattery to that empty-headed woman, all that praising of her eyebrows, all that silly mythology, all of it was a lie. You want to provoke the marquess. You want to enrage him, you want What do you want him to do, Lord Harry?”

Hetty poked him in the arm. She laughed. “Scuddy, you’ve misread the entire situation. I find Melissande lovely. I told you and Sir Harry that I don’t like to be bored. Melissande pleases my eye. So what if the Marquess of Oberlon is currently her protector? Things change. Who knows?”

“You’re being blind, Lord Harry. Unlike you, I wish to reach my thirtieth birthday. Powerful man, the marquess, powerful and ruthless. Not one to cross, that’s for sure. Ask anyone, he’s one of the best swordsmen in England. Come, Lord Harry, what is this all about?”

But Hetty only smiled and shook her head. “I just find his mistress lovely and to my liking,” was all she would say.

“No good will come of this, you’ll see.”

“Don’t fail me now, Scuddy. Now, I need a mare to escort the fair Melissande to the park. You will oblige me?”

Mr. Scuddimore drew up, mouth agape. He nodded his head from habit.

“Excellent. My thanks, Scuddy, and stop your worrying. All will be fine. Now, the mare has to be a bit showy perhaps white so Melissande can quite think of herself as a fairy princess. Yes, she would like that. Now, let me see, I think an emerald green velvet riding habit, with a dashing plumed hat, of course, would be just the thing to set off her beauty. Well, don’t stand there, Scuddy, it grows late, and I, for one, have much to do tomorrow. Don’t forget, a showy mare.”

Chapter Sixteen

Sir John didn’t waste any time. He yelled at his sister across the breakfast table, “Just where the devil were you, Miss? Damnation, it’s bad enough that Lord Oberlon knew you refused to be in the same house with him, but to boot, you stay out until all hours then sneak in the servants’ entrance. Damn it, Hetty, I won’t have it.”

She tried not to smile, but she could just picture herself telling her giant of a brother that she’d been visiting with Jason Cavander’s mistress, tell him that she’d insulted his grace in his own club, but that hadn’t done any good, so what was poor Lord Harry to do?

“I won’t have you grinning at me, damn you.” He pounded a fist onto the table, making the eggs jump. “Where were you? What were you doing?”

Louisa gently laid her hand over her husband’s. “It was awkward, my love. Unfortunately I made the situation worse. When Jason Cavander asked me where you were, I told him you were at Covent Garden.”

“Good God, Louisa Covent Garden. That’s too much. Goodness, no lady of any breeding would attend Covent Garden this week.”

“I wonder if you have any breeding,” Sir John said. “Stop dodging the issue. Where were you last night?”

Well, a lie it must be, Hetty thought as she gazed at her brother’s implacable face. “If you must throw such a tantrum about it, Jack, I’ll be glad to tell you. I wasn’t at Covent Garden but rather at Vauxhall Gardens. Lou got half of it right. Now, no more. I’m not a child and I shall do exactly as I like. Leave me be. Let’s talk about Paris.”

“By God, I feel pity for the poor mortal man who has the taming of you.”

Hetty unwisely said, “You wretched men. Why must you always think that if a woman shows any spirit at all she has to be tamed? Tamed? Like some sort of bloody animal. I had hoped that being married to Louisa would have given you more sense.”

“Hetty, Jack has sense, truly he does.”

“Not from what I see. You, Sir John, may be a domestic tyrant in Herefordshire, but here you have no authority at all. In short, dear Jack, I shall do exactly as I please, and with no interference from you. Now, finish your breakfast.”

Sir John’s fork clattered to his plate, this time sending his scrambled eggs plopping to the tablecloth. Before Hetty could draw another breath, he jerked her from her chair, clasped her about the waist, and lifted