The Seventh Suitor

Chapter 1

"It's not fair!" Harriet Frost shouted at her sister's firmly shut bedchamber door. That same door had been slammed in Harriet's face not two seconds before her uncharacteristic outburst, when Jessabelle had informed her sister and brother, Obadiah, that they just had to help her unload her latest fiancé.

"This makes seven, doesn't it?" inquired Obie, who was a tall, freckle-faced boy of seventeen. Harriet, a year his senior, frowned.

"Seven too many, if you ask me. And why should we be the ones to always scare off Belle's beaux? I'd give anything for one-tenth her men problems."

"Unfortunately, Belle has decided this time to jilt the Earl of Wolverton, of all the rotten luck."

"Wolverton's a man just like all the rest, isn't he? What could be so difficult about getting another man to jilt the ever-suffering Belle Frost? Poor thing," Harriet whispered in exact imitation of a jealous old tabby with six unmarriageable daughters. "Her beauty draws them like flies to honey, and then her true nature drives them away. How sad."

Jessabelle. Twenty years old and jilted six times since her debut two years ago, she was known as "Jilted Jessabelle" in London's upper circles. Why she was so often left at the altar, no one could imagine, for Miss Frost had been voted an Incomparable from the moment she entered society's spotlight.

Obie laughed, although he drew Harriet away from Belle's door, lest she overhear and bring her wrath down on them both.

"We'll need a new plan of action," he said. "Wolverton isn't just any man, no matter what you think. He's a top 'o the trees Corinthian and won't be taken in as easily as Belle's other suitors."

"He proposed, didn't he?" Harriet said sarcastically.

"He's going to require a direct and honest approach," Obie continued, ignoring her. "And I know just the young lady for the job." He looked his sister squarely in the eye.

"Oh, no! I can't ... I mean ... his lordship would never believe ... No! I won't do it, Obadiah Frost. You can't make me!"

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Miss Harriet Frost found her knees shaking with fright as she was ushered into the earl's library by a pasty-faced butler. Why couldn't Obie be here instead of her, she thought wildly, or at least by her side?

"His lordship will be down in a moment, miss." Although Harriet's maid had accompanied her, she got the distinct impression that the earl's majordomo disapproved of young ladies calling on his master. If he could only know how much Harriet disapproved of her reason for calling on his lordship. Certainly it had been the fact that she was Miss Frost's sister that allowed her to get this far in the first place. Harriet frowned, hoping the butler did not think she was grimacing over him or his master.

Harriet sighed as she took a seat on the plush maroon velvet sofa in his lordship's library. Where Belle was blessed with bright golden curls and china blue eyes, Harriet had mousy brown hair and her eyes were a mixture of blue and gray. In addition, she felt her own five and a half feet slim frame to be inferior to her sister's more Amazon proportions. It just wasn't fair that Belle attracted more beaux than anyone, despite her penchant for being jilted.

As to being jilted, Harriet knew better. Belle, a consummate flirt, attracted men in droves, only to find a more desirable man every time she became engaged. Whoever said the grass was greener on the other side of the park had certainly been describing her sister.

The first suitor left Belle in the lurch quite innocently enough. Unknown to the Frost siblings, who argued frequently, the gentleman could not tolerate family dissention and decided Miss Frost's charms did not outweigh her volatile relationship with her brother and sister. After that, Belle found she rather liked being engaged more than she did the thought of being married, and blackmailed Harriet and Obie into getting rid of fiancés two and three. As Harriet and her brother were wont to get into scrapes they did not want their gentle, scholarly father to discover, that had not been a difficult task for a shrewd older sister to accomplish.

Suitor number four, a wealthy but untitled man who lived in the north country, had been a tougher nut to crack, but Harriet and Obie were totally convincing as mentally ill family members, giving the young man pause as to the future of his own offspring. As his own mother was insane, he decided the odds were too great and cried off at the last minute. Harriet could not help but smile at the memory, for it had been Mr. Wallace's own comment about his mother that had given her the idea.

It was an amused Harriet that Gerald Worth, the fifth Earl of Wolverton, saw as he entered the room.

"Miss Frost?"

Harriet looked up at her sister's fiancé and frowned. It surprised her that her sister was eager to give up such a handsome and wealthy catch. His lordship had warm brown eyes and dark, wavy hair, but the welcoming smile that quite lit up the dark room almost made Harriet waver in her resolve. Obie was wrong. She should not be there. She felt an almost physical pain at having to ask his lordship to jilt her sister

"Let Belle get herself jilted," she murmured, completely forgetting the earl's presence.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, I am sorry you caught me woolgathering, my lord." Harriet sprang from the sofa and curtsied.

"That is quite all right, Miss Harriet. I may call you Miss Harriet, might I not? After all, we are soon to be brother and sister."

"Yes, well, um, that is what I have called to speak to you about, Lord Wolverton. I wish you to jilt my sister."

"You wish me to what?" His lordship's pleasant countenance changed to one of incredulity.

"I wish you to jilt my sister. What portion of that sentence did you not understand?"

"Miss Frost, I find your request beneath contempt. Obviously you wish to see your poor sister's fate repeated for a seventh time. Can you not contain what I feel is sibling jealousy for once and let your sister put her past to rest?"

"Jealousy?" she squeaked. "I jealous of Belle? Really, my lord..."

"And how not? It is obvious that you are not her equal in either brains or beauty, so it stands to reason you are jealous of her good fortune. And now you wish me to jilt the unfortunate Miss Frost? I think not."

"Actually, Belle is about to jilt you, my lord. That's why I'm here. Obie and I decided you deserved better than our usual machinations, not to mention Belle's. She told us to get rid of you because she plans to elope."

"Elope? Who is this fortunate fellow?"

"I know not. But she is, even now, on her way to Gretna Green."

"And how does your family view this?" Wolverton asked. Harriet blushed.

"Actually, they haven't a clue. Papa spends most of his life at his club or in his study, and Aunt Phoebe never leaves her bed except to escort Belle to parties and Almack's. Mama died about five years ago and we three have mostly been on our own since then. That is why there has been no one to keep us in check when we get rid of Belle's suitors." She regretted that statement as soon as it left her mouth.

"Am I to understand that I am not the first to be sent packing?" His voice was bland - almost too bland.

Harriet, tired of the entire business, said, "Of course not. Do you not wonder how my sister, in all her beauty, came to be known as 'The Jilted Jessabelle'?"

"I know I am her seventh fiancé, but I fail to see - "

"Do you remember suitor number four?" she asked sweetly.

"A Mr. Wallace, I believe."

"And do you know why Mr. Wallace left poor little Belle in the lurch, my lord?"

"Miss Frost told me it was because he feared spreading the mental illness prevalent in his family." The earl frowned, wondering where all this was leading.

"It is true his mother has a touch of insanity, according to Mr. Wallace himself. It wasn't until he noticed the same streak in his fiancée’s brother and sister that he changed his wedding plans."

"I can only conclude, once again, that you are jealous of your sister, Miss Frost."

"Believe me, my lord, I would not like to be in my sister's slippers for an instant! Underneath that fairy princess exterior lies a wicked witch. The only reason Obie and I turned to scaring off Belle's suitors was because she forced us to."

"Are you insinuating that Miss Frost has been stooping to blackmail to make her suitors cry off?"

"I'm not insinuating anything, my lord, I'm telling."

"But why? Why me? Why now?"

"I do not know," Harriet said with all sincerity. She felt uncomfortable having to reveal her sister's true nature to this handsome man. Was it possible that he really loved Belle? "I can only surmise that she prefers the engaged state to the married one," she concluded with a sigh.

"Come, come, Miss Frost," he said gently. "You were only trying to help your sister, much as you may regret it. Tell me, what were your plans after such a revelation?"

Harriet blushed. "I ... I don't know. Obie told me not to worry, that things would take care of themselves." A sudden thought occurred to her: Obie meant for her to gain Wolverton's attention and get him to replace Belle with herself. The thought made her blush a deep red.

"Excuse me, but I do not feel well, and I wish to go home."

"No."

"No?"

"No. You say your sister doesn't want to marry me? It's a little too late for that, don't you think? After all, the wedding is tomorrow."

"Well, I ... it is a little too late, isn't it? I suppose you had better go home with me and talk to father. He might not be very obliging..."

"Miss Frost, I can safely say your entire family has been unobliging. It's not the usual thing to have one jilt me. Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to be jilted? I have my pride, you know, and I have just learned that I'm the only man to be jilted by 'The Jilted Jessabelle.' What a time the tattlemongers will have with that story. It has occurred to me..."

Harriet did not like the strange glint that appeared in his lordship's eyes.

"My need to marry and produce an heir did not go away just because Miss Frost has no wish to be leg-shackled. Miss Harriet, I believe her younger sister will have to take her place,” he continued in a voice that brooked no opposition.

 Chapter 2

"What?"

"Come now," he commanded, putting an arm like a steel band about her shoulders and leading her out of the parlor. "I'll take you home. You've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Harriet's brain was in such a flurry, all she could do was repeat key words.

"Certainly. I want you to look your best, my dear. Being the bride means you will be the center of attention."

"Bride?"

"Oh, didn't I explain well enough? If you don't take your sister's place at the altar tomorrow, the entire ton will know your family for who and what they all are - yourself included - confidence artists of the first degree!"

When Harriet and Wolverton returned to the Frost residence on Mount Street, they found the household in an uproar. Sir Laurence Frost was present, as was Obie, and Harriet found her father needlessly applying a vinaigrette under Aunt Phoebe's nose. The poor woman was lying prostrate on the drawing room sofa.

"That probably will not wash, Papa," Harriet told him. She took the vial and tucked it back into Aunt Phoebe's reticule. It was useless, but her aunt would go nowhere without it. "Aunt Phoebe is one of those souls destined to be immune to such things. Obie, if you please..."

Harriet motioned everyone to stand back as Obie pulled a sheaf of lilies from a vase that stood on a nearby occasional table and poured the water directly on top of his aunt's head. She woke up sputtering and coughing and cursing Jessabelle.

"Belle?" Sir Laurence quickly asked. "What is this about Belle? I received an urgent message from you, Phoebe, about the children, but I'll need some explanation before I know who to beat with my crop." Merry blue-gray eyes like his younger daughter's twinkled at his family, unconsciously including Wolverton in their gaze.

"Really, Laurence, this is no time to make sport. Belle has eloped!" she told her brother. Then she threw a hand over her forehead in a poor imitation of Sarah Siddons and slumped back on the sofa in another faint, still dripping wet.

Wolverton and Harriet exchanged knowing glances.

"The very devil!" Sir Laurence bellowed. "That damn fool Wolverton! The wedding is tomorrow!"

"For shame!" Obie added with a smirk.

"Phoebe! Damn it all, woman, wake up and tell me what in the world is going on!" Sir Laurence threw roses out of another vase and anointed his sister. Aunt Phoebe awoke in the same manner as before.

"Laurence, my hair! And this is a new cap! I am sure to catch a chill now," she moaned. "See, even my teeth are starting to chatter," she claimed, not seeming to notice that her brother was shaking the life out of her.

"If you ever treat me like that..." Harriet warned Obie under her breath.

"If you ever act like that..." Obie countered.

"Children, that will be enough," Wolverton told them before confronting Sir Laurence. "Can someone please tell me what happened to Belle?"

"She ran off with that jackanapes Wolverton!" the baronet bellowed before realizing that "jackanapes Wolverton" was standing in front of him.

"Oh, Wolverton, you must know this is not my fault..." Aunt Phoebe started to blather. A gesture from the earl cut her off.

"Just start at the beginning, if you please, Miss Frost."

"Well, Belle came home in high dudgeon this afternoon, but seemed more lighthearted after a short nap, when a posy and a note were delivered. I assumed they were from you, my lord, but I must have been mistaken. She excused herself and went upstairs. I laid down here, for I am only allowed up and down the stairs twice a day - an order from my physician, you know - and took a few sips of my tonic, finally falling asleep. When I awoke, I sent my dresser, Saunders, to check on Belle. Saunders came running back within moments to say Belle had packed all her clothes and gone. That's when I sent for you, Laurence."

"And was there a note, Miss Frost?"

"Oh, yes, how silly of me," Aunt Phoebe tittered. She handed it to the earl.

"Hmmm. It appears Miss Frost has eloped with Mr. Richardson."

"If we start now, my lord," Harriet piped up, "we may be able to catch them ere they reach Gretna."

"Not a chance. Sir Laurence, might I have a word with you in private?"

"But Papa, Belle has eloped!" Harriet cried. She knew not what Wolverton might tell her father. Or not tell her father. Either way, she was lost if they left the room.

"I believe, Sir Laurence," Wolverton interjected, ignoring Harriet's outburst, "that as a jilted suitor, I have a right to speak with you in private."

"Of course. Excuse us, Harriet, Phoebe."

Harriet sat dejectedly on the sofa next to her aunt and watched as that lady took a few swigs of tonic from a hip flask.

"I'm doomed," she moaned after the men left the room. Obie came over and held her hand.

"Cheer up, Harriet. Wolverton's first-rate. You'll be well cared for."

Harriet suddenly remembered her brother's part in all this nonsense. "You! You...you poor excuse for a human being!" she cried. Launching herself at her brother, she tried to pummel his head into his body. Aunt Phoebe looked on in a daze until Sir Laurence and the earl returned.

"Harriet!" Sir Laurence shouted even as he tried to separate his children. "Try to show some decorum! After all, you are practically a married woman!"

"Oh," Harriet groaned, "It's happening. What about Belle?"

"What about her? She has made her own bed, Harriet," her father told her. "And while she will always be welcome in this family, the scandal may be too much for Phoebe. I'm taking her and Obie back to Wiltshire after the wedding. We need time for everything to blow over. I believe Wolverton will be taking you out of town, as well."

"Wedding?" Aunt Phoebe said faintly. "There isn't going to be a wedding. Belle..."

"Has made her own decision, Phoebe. Wolverton is going to marry Harriet, remember?"

"Harriet?"

Harriet wondered, and not for the first time, if her aunt's tonic was laced with laudanum.

"Yes, sister dear," Sir Laurence told her gently, "we've had everything planned for weeks. The wedding is tomorrow."

"Yes...tomorrow."

"Remember, Aunt Phoebe?" Wolverton added, "I thought I was in love with Belle, but it is Harriet I finally offered for. The wrong name was printed in the Gazette."

"Oh, the Gazette. What will we tell everyone?"

"Exactly what I just told you, Phoebe dear. Come upstairs, sister," Sir Laurence said gently. "You've had a long day and you will have an even longer one tomorrow. I'm sure Wolverton and Harriet want to be alone for a few moments. Obie?"

"But Laurence, it is not proper for Harriet and..."

"I said it is all right, Phoebe. After all, they are to be married." The two left the room together, Phoebe hanging from her brother's arm. Obie followed, but not without casting curious glances over his shoulder.

Married! Harriet sat down hard on the sofa. She didn't see the look Wolverton gave her, but sat looking at the pale white hands she twisted in her lap.

"Harriet..."

"Quiet! Not a word!" she snapped. "You...you had better leave. After all," she mimicked her father, "you have a long day tomorrow."

"I..."

"I don't know why you are going through with this..." Harriet continued before Wolverton could speak. "After all, it is not as if you loved me." She did not see the earl stiffen.

"Of course not. I believe I said something earlier this evening about needing a wife and heir, and that one Frost sister would do as well as another."

"Yes. Lucky me." She was still sitting there, staring off into nothingness, when the earl took his leave.

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Despite Harriet's nervousness, and the fact that she spent half the night taking in Belle's wedding gown, everything about the wedding seemed to run smoothly. The ceremony was small and the wedding breakfast exclusive, although that did not keep the guests from wondering aloud about the change in brides. Wolverton laughed it off at the breakfast.

"By the time I got to know Harriet, and Jessabelle and I decided we no longer suited, it was too late to change the invitations. Harriet's sister's elopement just happened to coincide with our wedding," he added, since that was already common knowledge. The earl fooled no one, of course, but his version of events was carefully repeated, for fear of his wrath.

Many of the guests were ready to believe his story, too, for he treated his new bride tenderly, and was attentive to her needs. Harriet tried not to squirm under his constant touch, occasional embrace and constant filling of her wineglass. Really, if Wolverton thought to get her in her cups, he had another think coming.

"You look lovely my dear," he said in a low voice at one point during the breakfast, the sincerity of his compliment surprising Harriet and putting her to the blush. Dressed in Belle's gown of pink satin, heavily encrusted with seed pearls, she was well aware that she had very little with which to fill out the deep décolletage of the gown, but its color suited her complexion. Belle’s maid had piled her brown curls high with silk rosebuds and her mother's cobweb veil framed her face.

"You really mean that, don't you?" she asked incredulously when she could find her voice. "No one has ever said that before." She shyly dropped her eyes from his face. Wolverton took one of her hands in his and, even though a long, white kid glove covered hers, she could feel his warmth.

Then Obie gained their attention.

"Wolverton, will you allow me to visit you over the holidays?"

The earl looked at his new brother-in-law, and then at Harriet, who was holding her breath.

"I believe that might be arranged," he told them.

Chapter 3

Harriet was amazed and dismayed to learn they were leaving London immediately after the wedding breakfast, as she had been informed of nothing.

"Yes, you must come visit soon," Wolverton told Obie. "If you don't mind traveling to Hertfordshire. In fact, we're off for there as soon as Lady Wolverton changes her gown." Harriet received a pointed look, as if she knew this and delayed on purpose.

"I wonder your family did not attend the wedding, my lord," she said upon hearing they lived not too far north of London.

"My aunt dislikes London," was all he replied before turning back to Obie and ignoring her.

Unwilling to begin her marriage in a taking, especially in front of her brother, Harriet only gave them a sweet smile, excused herself and vowed not to talk to Wolverton for however long it took to reach his home.

She almost cried when she retired to her room, where a maid waited to help her into her serviceable brown traveling gown. Having already packed her belongings for what she thought would be a short move to the earl's London home, her bare room now seemed a greater reminder that her new life would begin so much further away.

Later that day, Harriet watched the countryside out the carriage window to avoid eye contact with her husband, although she found the fields, pastures, crops and livestock boring after several hours of nothing else. Fortunately, the earl had his nose buried in a sheaf of papers and did not seem to notice her existence. Sighing softly, she wondered if this was something she would have to get used to for the rest of her life.

"This next village is Wolvern, and after that is the land surrounding Wolverton Hall."

Harriet jumped. She had no idea the earl had lowered his reading material long enough to notice his surroundings. He looked at her curiously.

"What do you think of our little corner of the world?"

"Quaint." Goodness, Harriet, she told herself, surely you could come up with something better than "quaint"? Obviously, the earl felt the same.

"Quaint," he repeated with a faint sneer. "A bit too rustic for our little town miss?"

"Oh, no! I enjoy the country when I'm in Sussex, and I plan to do the same here."

The earl shrugged and returned to his papers. Harriet wondered if he thought she was as shallow as her sister and she worried about that for a few miles.

Her worry increased as the carriage entered a drive through a beautiful park and pulled under the pillared portico of a stately old manor house of creamy yellow stone. A butler, the exact twin of his London counterpart, approached.

"Welcome home, m'lord." Behind him stood an army of household staff, which he took upon himself to introduce to the new countess as soon as she entered the front hall. She was beginning to wonder how she would learn everyone's names when three young bodies whizzed past and threw themselves at the earl.

"Uncle Gerald! Uncle Gerald!" they cried, not stopping their wild dance long enough for Harriet to tell if they were boys or girls.

"Children, that will be quite enough," drawled a young lady of fifteen or sixteen from a doorway. "Uncle Gerald has brought you a new aunt and she can't possibly want to stay now that she has seen what savages you are."

Harriet smiled gratefully, but the girl's face was impassive.

"Come, come, children," a dour-faced governess called from behind the older girl. "Run along to the drawing room for tea and his lordship will meet you in there."

A wild yell rose from the three youngsters, whom Harriet could now see were two boys and a little girl, and they dashed down the hall, the others following at a slower, more sedate pace.

"Come in, Gerald, come in," a crochety female voice called from the drawing room as the earl paused in the threshold with his new bride. "Bring the gel in," she demanded.

"Lovely," said an elderly gentleman. He sat in a corner of the room gazing out onto the side lawn.

"Passable," the old woman said with a sniff. If the gentleman was elderly, the woman was positively ancient. Seated ramrod-straight in a ladderback chair and wearing a black bombazine gown, she had hair piled in the elaborate puffs and piles of an era gone by and reminded one of an ugly old crow.

"I think she's beautiful," the little girl, who appeared to be six or seven, interjected.

"No one asked you, infant," the older girl sneered.

"That is enough!" barked the earl. "I'll thank some of you to keep civil tongues in your heads concerning my new countess. Harriet, this is my Great-Aunt Victoria, the dowager countess," he said, beginning the introductions.

Harriet curtsied instinctively, earning a nod of approval from the crow.

"Near the window is my Uncle Oscar." Harriet nodded and the old man smiled. "With their governess, Miss Lynch, are my nephews, Rory and Ian Worth, and their sister, Sidney. And this is my ward, Miss Zoe Witherspoon. Everyone, please see that Harriet receives a warm welcome to her new home - and that is not a request."

The earl led Harriet over to a sofa in front of the tea tray, indicating that she should do the pouring. Zoe, who had been sitting adjacent to the tray, flounced over to another seat by herself.

"Lady Wolverton?" She asked the older lady. "Lemon? Sugar?" The crow smiled, showing a few yellow teeth, and requested sugar, three lumps.

"Lord Oscar?" Technically, her husband should have been served first, as befitted his station, or second, in deference to the dowager, but Harriet could see that in terms of venerability, he came third. The earl nodded his approval of her hierarchy and Zoe scowled. Lord Oscar strolled over to doctor his own tea.

"I have odd ways, m'dear," he explained. She watched as he mixed a squeeze of lemon, a spoonful of cream and two lumps of sugar in his saucer before adding a soupçon of tea.

After Wolverton had been served, Zoe grudgingly helped Miss Lynch get the children situated before accepting a cup herself.

"That went off rather well," the earl said with some satisfaction later as he escorted her to their suite. Harriet only shrugged. He may have felt at home, but she had a ways to go before she would feel secure in her new position.

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That evening, when everyone retired, Harriet returned to the bedchamber she had been told adjoined through a common dressing room into the earl's room.

Nervously, she allowed her new maid, Jenny, to help her undress and put on a diaphanous nightgown, one that had been intended, she was sure, for her sister. The fact that she tripped over the hem on her way to the bed was more than enough clue for her.

She climbed in, though, after hitching her gown up, and slid under the soft silk counterpane. Biting her lip and dismissing the maid, she waited for the earl.

She waited nervously for twenty minutes, curiously for twenty more, and then angrily for at least ten minutes more before climbing out of bed. Pulling the nightgown up to mid-calf and marching through the dressing room to the other side, she swept into his bedchamber.

There she was brought up short by the sight of Wolverton seated in front of the fire, wrapped in a burgundy brocade dressing gown and drinking brandy. She dropped her gown in surprise, certain she would find him either absent or sleeping.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I should just..." Turning, she tripped on her gown and fell flat on her face. Neither one of them moved.

"I could use some assistance here," she finally said into the thick rug underneath her as minutes ticked by.

"Of course! I'm so sorry, Lady Wolverton!" The earl came over to her side and tried to help her to her feet, but she was angry enough by then to refuse his aid.

"I'll get to my own feet when I'm good and ready," she told him. She rose to her knees, carefully pulling the nightdress up so that she would not trip again, and walked to the dressing room door.

"I am well aware that my sister, had she tripped at all, would have been helped to her feet immediately - not that she would have been forced to even come to her husband's room! You may have married plain old Harriet, sir, but that does not mean I will be treated with less respect than my sister. I will just say this once in regard to her - beauty is only skin deep! Until you can learn to accord me due consideration, you may have a wife, but there will be no heir! Good night!"

She marched back into her own room, slammed the door and locked it, crawled into bed and cried herself to sleep.

Chapter 4

"Dash it all, Perkins! Where the devil is his lordship!" Harriet heard a husky female voice exclaim from the hall that next afternoon. "Never mind. I'll dash upstairs and borrow from Zoe and be down in a trice. Damned rain, soaking my new habit..."

The voice trailed off as it rose up the stairs to, presumably, Zoe's room. Harriet had received a tour that morning from the housekeeper, and knew, generally, where that might be. About twenty minutes later she looked up from the book she had been reading in the library, only to find her husband, who was seated in the same room at his desk, brimming with amusement.

"Harriet," he said, "I am about to introduce you to a very old and dear friend..."

"Old? Not bloody likely, Gerry, not while I'm able to take a fence! You must be the new Lady Wolverton! I'm Anjelica Danvers - Lady Danvers, if you'd rather, but you can call me Jellie."

As the tall woman with fierce red hair did somewhat resemble a jar of strawberry jam, Harriet found herself smiling.

Lady Danvers, an energetic woman in her late twenties, bent to buss her on the cheek before grabbing Wolverton in a bear hug. Harriet stared in amazement as her muscular, athletic husband actually grunted.

"Still soft, I see," Lady Danvers joked. "Excuse us, Lady Wolverton, but we've known each other since we were in leading strings and refuse to stand on ceremony. She's a damned fine-looking filly, Gerry. Never thought you'd bring home one like her, though - I always thought you were one for the delicate thoroughbreds..."

Wolverton winced at her words.

"Can't stay long, really, only until my habit steam-dries a bit, but Marcus wishes you both, Uncle Oscar, Aunt Victoria and young Zoe to come to dinner on Tuesday next. I've invited half the county - they want to ogle the bride, of course - because I've told them they can't call here just yet."

Harriet could only stare at the talkative, forceful woman, who plunked herself down on the settee and stretched out to her full length. A sudden cry at the door caught everyone's attention.

"Aunt Jellie! Aunt Jellie!" The children assaulted her where she lay. "What did you bring us today? Where are Elliott and Belinda? Can you stay for tea?" were all heard at once as Lady Danvers allowed them to crawl all over her.

"Nothing special today, brats. Elliott and Belinda are home, warm and dry in the nursery. Of course, I'll stay, you young jackanapes," she told Rory. "If it is all right with your new aunt, of course." Five pairs of eyes suddenly confronted Harriet, who had been silently watching the proceedings.

"We would be delighted, Lady Danvers," she said. And she meant it.

Lady Danvers let the children pull her into the drawing room, and Harriet and Wolverton brought up the rear. However, Harriet refused his arm.

She watched as Lady Danvers greeted Uncle Oscar with a joke, the dowager with a kiss on the cheek and Zoe with a wink, helping herself to a cup of tea before anyone could offer.

Anjelica had come over to Wolverton for one purpose today, and that was to scope out Gerry's new wife. Her husband, Sir Marcus, had tried to dissuade her, but Anjelica would not be deterred.

"The man goes to Town for a couple of months, announces he's marrying none other than Jessabelle Frost and then comes home with someone named Harriet?" Her maid had been in at first light with that information. She had waited until the afternoon to visit, at any rate, the rain giving her a perfect excuse to call.

Once she arrived at Wolverton, though, she could see that the situation was tense. A honeymooning couple should not be on either side of the library, for one thing, with Gerry working studiously on estate business, something she knew he took seriously but disliked intensely.

After she had enjoyed a cup of tea, she asked Harriet if she could use her room to change back into her habit. Harriet agreed and took her upstairs.

"So," Anjelica said as she got dressed behind a screen painted with blues and whites to resemble ocean waves. "What do you think of Wolverton?"

"The man or the estate?"

"Either..."

"I think the estate is lovely."

"And..."

"And that's all."

Lady Danvers grinned on her side of the screen. She did so love mysteries.

"Did Gerry ever have a chance to tell you about his family?" she asked.

"He has had plenty of chances," Harriet angrily replied, picking up items on her vanity and setting them back down without looking at them.

"I, for one, am glad he didn't. Or wouldn't. Let me tell you about them - as an old family friend and non-impartial observer."

"Er ... go on."

Anjelica smiled, pleased to have the lady's attention.

"First, of course, is the dowager. Aunt Victoria is rather an invalid; she has problems with her joints. She also has a field of prized goats you must see - and a special pet, Clementina."

"How ... interesting."

Anjelica emerged from behind the screen and sat down at Harriet's vanity. Picking up a powder puff, she proceeded to take the shine off her face. "I've always liked this room. Gerry's mother decorated it ... blues and greens were her favorites, and she wanted the room to look like a mermaid's lair."

"She succeeded," Harriet replied as Lady Danvers pointed out shell medallions holding up the drapes and the sea horses on the four corners of her bed. "But about the family..." she prodded.

"Ah, yes, and then there is Uncle Oscar. Just wait until either his next shipment of soldiers or the latest military dispatches arrive."

"Shipment? Dispatches?"

"Lord Oscar has appropriated the entire side garden, and when the next dispatches appear in the papers, he will be out there arranging his two-inch tin soldiers to reflect the war in Spain. We were quite impressed last year with the layout of Salamanca."

"I see..."

"The children are not quite so eccentric. Yet. The Worths, whose father was his cousin, run wild when Gerry is not here to control them. Miss Zoe, the daughter of an old friend, thinks she is an adult and gets a little high-handed at times. All they want, of course, is someone to pay attention to them." She rose from the vanity, patted Harriet's hand and smiled. "I think Wolverton made the right choice."

The two made their way downstairs and Lady Danvers went to the green baize door that separated the kitchen from the main part of the house.

"I know my way to the stables. It has been a pleasure to meet you, Lady Wolverton. Don't be a stranger, either. The children come to visit every Tuesday, and I would love for you to come with them." With a wave, she was gone, leaving Harriet to stare thoughtfully after her.

Harriet went back up to her room and mulled over everything she had learned, and one thing was perfectly clear. This household needed her even more than her own family had. Who knew she would be trading one family of eccentrics for another?

Sitting down in the vanity chair so recently vacated by Lady Danvers, she took a good look at herself. Did she have what it took to help run this family? Did she have what it took to interest her husband?

Her hair was rather mousy in color, but it was thick and healthy. Her eyes were pretty, and thickly lashed. She was not beautiful like her sister, but her sister would have been less than useless in a household like this. Jessabelle was mean; Harriet was not, no matter what Wolverton had accused her of being.

Wolverton. She didn't know what to make of him.

The day before they married, he had called her names. At their wedding, he had been kind and attentive. During tea yesterday, he had been her staunch supporter. Last night he had been rude and distracted. Today he had just been... there.

With a sigh, she decided to take a nap before dressing for dinner. Wolverton was almost too complex for her unsophisticated mind to decipher.

Chapter 5

Sometime during the night Harriet had come to the resolution that she would win over Wolverton's family. Maybe if she made a place for herself in the house, Wolverton, as well, might find a place for her in his life, too.

Harriet was no coward, but she knew it was always best to start at the bottom and work one’s way to the top. That meant she needed to begin in the nursery, with young Sidney. After all, a six-year-old friend was better than no friend at all.

Her idea was providential, it seemed, when she reached that suite of rooms only to hear Sidney sobbing. Peering in the door, she saw the girl seated on her nanny's lap, crying her eyes out.

"May I come in?" Harriet asked, and was bid enter by the nanny. Sidney was too busy weeping to pay much attention, giving Harriet a chance to look about her instead.

The nursery was clean and airy, with gauzy curtains in the open windows and a polished wood floor that reflected the morning sun. Harriet settled next to Nanny in a comfortable rocking chair.

"Whatever is the matter?" she asked.

"Next Tuesday is my birthday," Sidney said in a teary voice, looking up at the sound of Harriet's voice.

"You are crying because your birthday is next week? Do you wish to stay six forever?"

"No!" Sidney hotly replied. "I want to be seven! Uncle Gerald said I could get my own pony when I was seven. But he forgot..." Harriet suppressed a chuckle.

"How could he forget when you have yet to have your birthday, poppet?"

"Because I heard him tell Aunt Jellie he was buying me a doll! I don't want a doll! I want a pony!"

"I don't blame you." Harriet smiled and Sidney looked at her new aunt with more interest than she had before. With an apologetic glance at Nanny, she slid off her lap and approached Harriet.

"Did you have a pony when you were seven?" Sidney asked, her blue eyes wide.

"Oh, no - I had to wait until I was eight, I'm sure!"

"It's all right, Aunt Harriet..." Sidney patted her arm. "I may call you Aunt Harriet, may I not? Nanny said so."

"Of course you may. Now, about that pony..."

"Aunt Jellie raises them! Belinda Danvers has one and she's not even six yet!" Sidney was clearly envious and Harriet wondered if Miss Danvers' privileges had contributed to some of the girl's tears.

Fortunately, Wolverton's presence in the library the day before had included the introduction of several household accounts and a draftbook exclusively for Harriet. The account contained a staggering amount of money in a London bank, and when Harriet had exclaimed she did not require new gowns, Wolverton had said her clothing allowance was separate.

"I couldn't possibly!" she had cried, knowing she possessed an almost-new wardrobe, purchased for her London season.

Now, she thought about that money and reasoned presents could be purchased with it, even ponies.

"Lady Danvers? Perhaps we should go for a drive, Sidney. We might pay a call on Lady Danvers and possibly visit Miss Danvers, if she is available?"

Nanny and Sidney both appeared relieved at her words and the servant promised to have Miss Sidney ready for an outing "directly."

Harriet could not help but smile as she headed downstairs to collect her own outerwear and order a carriage. If Lady Danvers was agreeable, Sidney's birthday would be a success.

Unbeknownst to Harriet, her husband, on his way to confer with his steward, was momentarily surprised by her happy expression, and wondered briefly who had put it there. He knew, with no little guilt, that it was not him.

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The ride to Danvers Park went smoothly, and by unspoken agreement, the two ladies did not mention ponies or birthdays. Instead, Harriet was regaled with stories of how Sidney spent her days, and how she was allowed to play with Belinda at least once a week.

"Even though sometimes we don't play so good," Harriet was informed. She refrained from correcting the child and only remarked that sometimes it was difficult to get along with everyone.

"I wish I had a sister," Sidney said wistfully. "I would never, ever disagree with her!"

"Oh, I imagine you would a time or two, poppet. Now brothers..." Harriet was torn. Obie had been her best friend until he had betrayed her. Still, she missed him dreadfully.

Then there was Jessabelle. They had never been what Harriet thought sisters were supposed to be.

Jessabelle never shared her clothes, not even to volunteer a hair ribbon, she never deigned to speak to her siblings unless she wanted something, and she never cared what her siblings were doing unless she could get something out if it for no investment of her time and energy.

Her memories were cut blissfully short by their arrival at Danvers Park, where they were in time to join Lady Danvers and her children at tea.

Master Elliot was a tall, thin redhead of seven, and Miss Belinda Danvers was a golden little butterball who squealed in delight when her dearest friend Sidney was announced.

"Lady Wolverton!" Anjelica's pleasure was as evident as her daughter's as she rose to usher her unexpected guests into the room. After introducing her children, she rang for more tea and then instructed the three youngsters to take the entire platter of biscuits into a far corner of the room so that she might enjoy a comfortable coze with Lady Wolverton.

"I apologize for not calling on you again," Anjelica began, "but after telling the neighbors they could not, my husband said I must heed my own mandate. But I gather from your determined expression and young companion that you are here on a mission of sorts?"

"I hope you do not mind - Sidney wants a pony for her birthday and I am determined she shall have one."

"And so she ... You have not spoken with Gerry on this matter?"

"Actually, no. Sidney was crying today because she overheard her uncle tell you she is to receive a doll, and she wants a pony."

Anjelica was hard-pressed not to laugh. Gerry had thought Sidney was eavesdropping the other day when they were discussing the purchase of one of her ponies, and had changed the subject. Then they were interrupted and no definite plans had been made.

Here was his wife, now, hoping to settle the deal without Gerry's knowledge. Anjelica had every intention of fulfilling her new neighbor's request.

Indulging in idle chat until the children polished off the biscuits and Lady Wolverton finished her tea, Anjelica sent the young ones upstairs to play and took her guest out to the stables.

"I have only one pony available right now," she apologized, "but he's docile enough for Sidney."

"How much will he cost?" Lady Wolverton asked after examining the little brown fellow. Anjelica named a figure that was agreeable, and they arranged for the pony to come to Wolverton the next Tuesday morning.

After another short visit back in the house, Lady Wolverton decided they had been away from home long enough, collected Sidney and left, well-pleased with herself.

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Wolverton stopped by Danvers Park on his way home from visiting one of his tenants, intent on sealing the deal with Jellie over the pony.

"He's not available anymore," she said smugly when he found her in the stables.

"What do you mean not available? I'm looking right at him!" he insisted.

"Yes, but he is no longer for sale. I sold him earlier today. Really, Gerry, if you want the worm, you have to be the early bird!"

"Damn it, Jellie, you knew that pony was to go to Sidney!"

"And so it shall; you just won't be the one buying it," she teased, as pleased with herself as Harriet had been earlier.

"Who bought him, then? Uncle Oscar? Zoe?"

Jellie laughed, and the sound filled the stables to the rafters. "Do either of them have that sort of blunt? For that matter, does your wife? I made the deal with her, if you must know, but I did not ask for money yet."

Wolverton was taken aback. Harriet had purchased the pony? How did she know?

"Yes, she has the blunt. I expected her to spend it on herself, though. How the devil did she discover the plans to buy the... Now I know why she looked so pleased earlier today." He started to laugh.

"I did not think you would mind ... it's not like he was bought for someone besides Sidney."

And Harriet will have earned the affection of at least one member of the family, Wolverton thought with some satisfaction. Not that she did not already have that of another...

Chapter 6

Wolverton took the family to church the next day and, mindful of his duty, immediately introduced Harriet to the vicar, Mr. Singleton. Harriet found herself unimpressed, though, with the little man, who looked and smelled as if he could use a good bath. She was even less impressed with his sermon.

"Today's text is from Ephesians Chapter 5..." he intoned. "Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord... for the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church... so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything..."

Harried tried not to glare at Wolverton as they sat there in their front pew, especially when he took her hand in a familial gesture that had the vicar beaming on them from the pulpit.

To Wolverton's credit, he had no hand in the topic of that sermon. He could tell by the look on his wife's face that she thought otherwise, and he pondered what to do to convince her he was innocent in this. He tried to take her hand to assure her, but it only made matters worse, so he gave up. Tuning out the rest of the vicar's lesson, he thought back to that day over a month ago when he realized he was engaged to the wrong sister.

It had occurred to him early on in his engagement that one, Miss Frost was little more than an arm ornament, and two, she was purposefully keeping him from getting to know her family.

One day, though, when he had called to take her for a drive, he had caught a glimpse of Miss Harriet Frost, and became intensely curious. ‘What was this gilded bird of paradise doing with such a little wren for a sister?’ was his first thought. Then he wondered if she had any more intelligence than her sibling.

A visit a week later from Obadiah only intrigued him further, especially the information the lad had concerning his eldest sister. Wolverton, at that time, found himself asking questions about the other sister, and was surprised when Obie contacted him once more. This time he had concrete information regarding Jessabelle's elopement and a plan to help Wolverton save face.

Looking at his wife now, the service over, as she was introduced briefly by Anjelica to the neighbors, he had to give his brother-in-law credit. The lad knew what he was about. Now it was up to the earl to convince Harriet that her new situation was the best thing to happen to both of them. Obie would probably have his head if he knew how badly Wolverton had handled the marriage so far. Especially the wedding night.

With a sigh he went to collect Harriet, who seemed rather overwhelmed by the curious people surrounding her.

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Harriet was furious. Not only had Wolverton gotten that nasty little vicar to preach on the submission of wives, he barely gave her time to meet the neighbors before dragging her off.

She refused to speak to him during the ride home, the children, thankfully, filling in the silence with their chatter. After luncheon she left the house, intent on getting lost in the woods past the formal gardens.

Paying no attention to the pruned roses and carefully tended beds of spring flowers, and unconsciously moving away from the sound of what could only be the dowager's animals, Harriet found herself in a clearing centered with a large oak tree. A tree house grew out of its venerable old branches.

Almost blindly, she climbed the ladder into the structure, amazed once inside to discover this must be the exclusive lair of Rory and Ian.

There were fishing poles stacked neatly in one corner, a low table set with a game of chess, blankets and pillows piled up next to books probably pilfered from the house, and a shelf covered with an assortment of rocks, nests, feathers and jars of insects, dead and alive. Further inspection revealed a cocoon hanging from a branch in one, a piece of cheesecloth wrapped in twine keeping the future butterfly inside. Another contained an assortment of dead beetles and yet another was half full of coins.

She was about to retreat from this sanctuary when she heard voices and realized the tenants had returned to their abode.

"Sid says she's a right 'un," Ian was saying, "because she's getting her a pony for her birthday."

Rory's reply was unintelligible.

"Well, I say we ask her. Uncle Gerald was supposed to get that pony and didn't. How do we know he won't back out of this, too?"

"Back out of what?" Harriet asked from above. Rory frowned, but Ian's grin split his face in two.

"It's famous that you're here, Aunt Harriet!" said the ten-year-old Ian. "We need your help to keep Uncle Gerald to a promise."

It was on the tip of Harriet's tongue to say she didn't think his lordship capable of breaking a promise when she remembered he had not only promised to marry her sister, but had promised Sidney a pony.

"Tell me what he promised and I'll see what I can do to help." She had started to climb down the tree, but Ian whooped with joy and began to climb up, forcing her back into the tree house. "We can discuss this at the house," she said, "if you don't want me up here."

Rory almost nodded, but Ian cut him off and urged her to sit on the blankets.

"We are supposed to spend the night out here with Uncle Gerald," he said eagerly, "but we think he might have changed his mind."

"No we don't - he just hasn't mentioned it recently," Rory said quietly. "Doesn't mean he forgot or changed his mind," he pointed out.

"That's true," Harriet agreed. "This sounds like something you are looking forward to."

Both boys nodded their heads eagerly.

"Can you really help?" Rory asked.

"I don't know. Do you want me to try?" Harriet was willing to do so if only to wipe the sad looks off the boys' faces.

"Please?" they asked in unison.

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Harriet went back to the house and ran Wolverton to ground in the library.

"I want to speak with you," she said purposefully, mindful that she was not supposed to be talking to him. The boys' request, however, superceded her self-imposed boycott of conversation.

"Yes?" Wolverton looked up from his ledger to address his wife.

"It has come to my attention that you have promised the boys an overnight outing in the tree house. They, of course, are afraid you forgot."

"Of course?"

"Well, yes - did you remember your agreement?"

"Well, not exactly..."

"I rest my case."

"Wait a minute. How do you know all this?"

"The boys told me." Wolverton looked at her in amazement.

"They did?" He knew Harriet was finding it difficult being accepted by his family, but knew, too, she would have to deal with them directly for them to respect her. What surprised him, though, was how quickly she had gained the children’s trust.

Harriet was standing there, arms folded over her chest, waiting. "Well?" she prompted.

"Well, what?"

"When do you propose to take them on this outing so I may report back the good news?"

He eyed her with some newfound respect of his own. This little termagant would probably pack a bag for him and escort him to the tree house personally to ensure his promise was kept.

"I will do so Friday evening, but only on one condition," he said, a little gleam of mischief in his eyes.

"Yes?"

"You have to come, too."

Harriet hesitated only a moment before nodding her agreement. "I will."

Chapter 7

Harriet spent the rest of the day and all of Monday alternating between plans for Sidney's birthday and worrying about spending a night with her husband in the tree house.

Sidney had been included in the party preparations and followed Harriet about like a shadow. Even Rory and Ian, previously disdainful of anything concerning their sister's natal day, became enthusiastic when asked their opinion of the food. The fact that Harriet had managed to get a definite overnighter date from Wolverton also increased her popularity among the younger set.

Only Zoe was the holdout, although she was not openly hostile. Harriet, however, was much too busy rearranging the party to pay her much mind.

The dowager had planned a quiet luncheon with a few of her cronies and the Danvers family, they having the only children in the neighborhood anywhere near Sidney's age. Harriet mentally rejected the arrangements as unsuitable to a seven-year-old and then made a quick inventory of Wolverton's tenants.

There were three girls and two boys approximately Sidney's age, and invitations were quickly made to them by Harriet as she made her rounds of the estate. With the Danvers children, that made seven - just the right amount. Sidney and her brothers brought the total count to ten. There were ten adults, as well, and Harriet was up early on Tuesday supervising the erecting of a marquee on the lawn just off the back terrace.

"What is the meaning of this, Lady Wolverton?" the dowager demanded at breakfast. "Are you staging a circus for Sidney's party?"

Harriet's face lit up at the thought and she shelved the idea, making a mental note to discover Ian's birth date.

"Sadly, no, my lady," she replied. "But we are dining al fresco for luncheon."

"We are?" Wolverton asked, lowering the newspaper he had been reading.

"Yes, we are," was all Harriet would say, excusing herself and Sidney at that point to check on final preparations.

"You must do something about your wife, Gerald!" the dowager insisted. "She's much too headstrong! She doesn't have the decency to leave plans well enough alone! She's going to ruin Sidney's birthday!"

Zoe sat waiting for Wolverton to agree with his aunt, but she was to be disappointed.

"She's taking charge, Aunt Victoria - as is her right. End of discussion." With a snap he pulled his newspaper back up in front of his face.

The dowager snorted and retreated to concentrate on her breakfast, Zoe pouted and the three other males sat and exchanged delighted grins over Wolverton's championship of his wife.

Later, Harriet stood by proudly and watched Sidney, Belinda and the other girls playing a game in the garden. The boys had disappeared together and she had no doubt they were in the tree house. She would send Wolverton out there to collect them when it was time to eat.

The dowager and her friends sat in the drawing room and bemoaned an al fresco luncheon and being exposed to children of a lower station, but Lady Danvers came up behind Harriet with a smile.

"The only thing that could make the day more perfect would be a pony," she teased. "That and if the older folks would hold their tongues. Now, tell me what you think of my husband."

Sir Marcus had met with Harriet's approval almost immediately and she was not slow in telling her new friend. "Your husband seems very kind."

"Yes, he is." Anjelica beamed. "You also met my parents, the Postons, briefly on Sunday and they will be at my party this evening. We were all children together, you know. Marc, Gerry and I."

"Did they ever fight over you?" Harriet asked curiously. Anjelica laughed.

"It was more like Gerry and I fighting over Marc! He and I knew we belonged to each other from an early age, and Gerry used to tell me to go away, that Marc and I could have the second half of our lives together. I eventually agreed, but I extracted my pound of flesh. I insisted he and Marc both be present for my London debut. I was not going to be thrust into society without at least two escorts."

Harriet gaped at Lady Danvers' audacity. "You insisted? What did he do?"

"He attended me, of course!" She spoke as if that were a given. "He's rather easy to manage once you get the knack, my dear - he has an overwhelming sense of duty. The main thing is to stick to your guns. Works with the old lady, too..." she added with a wink. "That and ignoring her."

"Thank you," Harriet said quietly.

"What a clever idea to invite some of the estate children. The boys play with them all the time, but Sidney is not allowed. Quite equalizing..."

"Quite."

They chatted a while longer and then Wolverton, on Harriet's request, went to the tree house to retrieve the boys. They all came running at the mention of food, almost knocking down the dowager in the process. She was not amused and told them all so in no uncertain terms.

"Let them be, Aunt Victoria," Wolverton said, bringing up the rear. "They are just energetic boys."

"Hmpf!" was the only reply, but she allowed herself to be seated prominently before Harriet rounded up the children and settled them at the other table.

Even with all the children on their best behavior, luncheon was a boisterous affair. The children were served cold chicken, fruit, cheese and lemonade followed by jellies and cake. The adults received soup, chicken, a beef course, salad greens, fruit and cheese, several wines and slices of Sidney's cake.

Sidney was then allowed to open gifts, but when she received a china doll from her Uncle Gerald, she looked so disappointed, Harriet was on her way to give the little girl a hug when Wolverton stopped her with a raised hand.

"You will keep the doll in a safe place, won't you, Sidney?" She nodded. "Good. I would hate to see your new doll mauled by this."

Out of a basket one of the servants held came a snowy white kitten. All the girls squealed with delight and Harriet smiled until she caught a devilish gleam in several of the boys' eyes. She was going to have to keep an eye on them.

"Oh, thank you, Uncle Gerald!" Sidney exclaimed, throwing her arms about his waist.

"Thank your Aunt Harriet as well, Sidney," he said with a laugh, handing over the kitten. "She and I got this for you together." He glanced in Harriet's direction and dared her to contradict him.

"I believe your aunt has another present for you," he added, "and here it is."

The little brown pony was led into the garden by a groom and even the boys cheered as Sidney was picked up and placed on its back.

"It's the best present ever, Aunt Harriet!" Sidney cried. Harriet found herself exchanging pleased glances with both Anjelica and Wolverton.

"How did you find out about the pony?" Harriet asked her husband later as the children ran off to play.

"I have my sources."

"I see."

"The same source that failed to tell you that I had already made plans to purchase that same pony for Sidney."

Harriet turned to Lady Danvers, but she was conversing with the dowager and that was the last person Harriet wanted to speak with.

"Don't let it bother you, my dear," Wolverton said softly in her ear. "It made you several friends in the process, did it not?"

Harriet nodded.

"Then it was worth it."

Chapter 8

Getting ready for the dinner party, Harriet took more pains than usual with her toilette. Her maid was delighted when she was asked to ready the white brocade gown, and ran for the dress, carefully helping her mistress put it on.

"So bridal!" she exclaimed as she pinned up Harriet's hair. A knock on the connecting door startled them both, but before Tilly could answer it and discover it locked, Harriet was on her feet and admitting Wolverton to her room.

Nodding to the maid to leave, Wolverton strode in with a velvet jewel case and stopped in front of his wife.

"You look lovely, Harriet," he said, admiration gleaming in his dark eyes. She could not mistake it for anything else and flushed with pleasure.

"Thank you... Gerald," she replied, using his name for the first time. She was rewarded with a rather lopsided grin, which surprised her even more than the compliment.

"But a countess should not be without jewelry," he continued.

"I have a string of pearls..."

"I'm sure they would do, but if you would prefer, these now belong to you. I'd like to see them on you, if not tonight, then some time soon?" He opened the case. Inside gleamed a set of sapphire jewelry: a necklace, two bracelets and earrings.

Harriet inhaled sharply. "They're beautiful! I would love to wear them tonight!" Before they both realized it, she had thrown her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she added in a shy whisper as she pulled back.

Sitting down at her dressing table, she put on the earrings and clasped on the bracelets. She reached for the necklace, but Wolverton had it and was holding it up by its ends.

"Allow me?" he asked.

Harriet swallowed hard. "Yes."

The necklace came around and settled gingerly on her chest while he attached it in the back. He paused and then reached to the front once more as he arranged it to his satisfaction, his fingers brushing her collarbone as he pronounced her "perfect."

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Anjelica had really not meant to put Lady Wolverton on the spot when she had planned to have the guest of honor arrive last. She only thought it would be easier to introduce her around once.

She realized the error of this when the Wolvertons arrived and stood framed in the drawing room door, the blood slowly draining from Harriet's face, the object of every eye. She knew she would be the center of attention, but she had hoped to be introduced to everyone gradually.

Gerald shot his hostess an accusing glance and even Marcus did not seem pleased, but Anjelica bravely stepped forward and gave Harriet a welcoming embrace.

"Lady Wolverton! Welcome once again to our home! Gerry, Uncle Oscar, Aunt Victoria..." She quickly handed the elder Wares over to Marcus, but when she would have taken Harriet's arm to escort her about the room, Gerald glared and she backed off, allowing him the honors.

"Harriet, my dear," Wolverton said gently, "you remember the vicar?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Singleton. How lovely to see you again," she lied.

"Lady Wolverton," he acknowledged with a bow. "I hope you will be home this Friday when I make my weekly call. Her ladyship kindly goes over my texts with me and I would love to hear your opinion as well."

"Her ladyship offers sermon suggestions?" Harriet blurted out, avoiding her husband's gaze.

"Certainly! I've been trying to get Wolverton interested, but he doesn't seem to have the time," he almost accused.

"I am certain there are good reasons my lord hasn't the time to assist in God's work, sir," Harriet replied and felt herself gently moved forward by Wolverton's hand on her back.

"Squire Bailey," he introduced the next gentleman, a large, florid man with rather cruel-looking gray eyes.

"How do you do, Lady Wolverton?" he asked kindly enough, but the smile he offered did not quite reach his eyes.

Lord and Lady Hawthorne were next, and their son, Alan, a tall, slender man in his early twenties. After that were Lady Danvers' parents, Mr. and Mrs. Poston, who welcomed Harriet warmly.

"We have heard so much about you already," Mrs. Poston said, giving her a hug.

Then came Sir George and Lady Millington and their daughter, Rebecca, who her mother giddily declared to be not quite ready for her first season. "Perhaps the Little Season," she promised her pouting daughter.

Two ladies in their early thirties, Misses Eleanora and Clementina Bright, were introduced, and Wolverton presented them as Miss Nellie and Miss Tina. He gave them light pecks on their cheeks, causing the sisters to twitter and declare him a devil.

Anjelica took over at that point, as the only other guests were Wolverton's family, and when the gong rang, Sir Marcus proudly led Harriet into the dining room, Anjelica right behind with Gerald.

Dinner was a pleasant affair and both Sir Marcus, at the head of the table, and Sir George, on her right, were agreeable conversationalists. The only drawback was sitting directly across from the dowager, whose sour expressions could curdle her own goats' milk.

She was relieved when Lady Danvers finally rose from the table and escorted the ladies back to the drawing room, leaving the men to their port and cigars.

"How are you managing, my dear?" Mrs. Poston asked kindly, bringing a cup of tea with her and handing it to Harriet before seating herself at her side. "It can't be easy to be suddenly responsible for a large home, three youngsters, a ward and one of the stubbornest most stubborn old ladies it has ever been my fate to meet!"

Harriet looked at her in surprise.

"Don't mind me, my dear," her companion said. "You'll notice I didn't mention Wolverton or Lord Oscar..."

Harriet had noted that.

"Oscar is a dear and if he's a trifle eccentric, well... no harm there. As for Wolverton, husbands always fall under a special category, don't they? I've been with mine thirty years, so feel free to ask husband questions at any time. Lord knows Anjelica does!" she said in mock exasperation. Harriet could see the lady did not mind at all. "Perhaps Anjelica will regale you with stories from her first - rather stormy - year of marriage. Most diverting... but I've monopolized you too long."

Harriet would have liked to have visited longer with Mrs. Poston, but that kind lady gave her directions to her home before she relinquished the guest of honor to ladies Hawthorne and Millington, and a rather boring conversation on current fashions the ladies assumed Harriet could participate in, having recently come from town.

After the men rejoined them, Lady Hawthorne left Harriet to speak to her husband and Lady Millington moved on to sit with Lady Danvers. Wolverton was detained by Mrs. Poston., leaving Harriet temporarily alone until the vicar, his eyes gleaming in a manner that left her feeling uneasy, sat down beside her on the sofa.

"My dear Lady Wolverton, you don't know how I've longed to have you to myself all evening."

"Why, Mr. Singleton, whatever do you mean?" she asked. Fortunately, Wolverton now stood in front of them.

"Yes, Singleton, whatever do you mean?"

The vicar gave a nervous laugh and tugged at his cravat. "Why, Wolverton, only that Lady Wolverton might be persuaded to help the dowager with my sermons, nothing more, nothing more..."

"I see," Wolverton replied, but his glare said otherwise and Harriet felt a small thrill at the way her husband had come to her aid. The vicar hurried away, his tail figuratively between his legs, and left the party soon afterward.

Harriet, however, felt more in charity with her husband at that point than she had at any other time since their wedding.

Chapter 9

Harriet did not think much about the vicar again until Friday. When she heard his arrival, she prudently slipped out into the garden so that she could not be found if sent for.

She sought out the gardener and discussed pruning roses for as long as she could despite a lack of knowledge, hoping to avoid returning to the house. She thoroughly confused that poor man with her sudden interest in horticulture. Once she even thought she saw Mr. Singleton in the window of the family parlor, which looked out over the back of the house, but when she glanced over again there wasn't even a twitch in the curtains.

Hoping she had escaped meeting the man completely, she went for a walk down the lane that led to Oak Hill, the Millington estate.

"Ah, Lady Wolverton..." the vicar suddenly called. Harriet wanted to disappear. "Her ladyship and I missed you today. I trust your gardening chores were not too onerous?"

"Not particularly," Harriet airily replied. "But necessary. I hope she was helpful today in my absence?"

"Today she insisted on a sermon regarding adultery," he said smoothly, "but I could not agree. I would not be condemned as a hypocrite..." He moved in until he was quite close to her and ran one finger up her arm. She shuddered and he smiled, as if she had shivered in delight.

"Her ladyship has informed me of your true marital status, you know. That your marriage remains unconsummated."

Harriet's shock must have shown on her face, because the vicar laughed. "I can tell you would be receptive to a little tutelage."

"No!" Harriet cried. "Go away before I tell Wolverton! He holds your living, you know!"

Mr. Singleton only laughed again.

"You know you won't, because then you will have to explain what you were doing out here with me, and you also might be forced to discuss your failure as a wife. I know of your sister. She would have submitted, you know, if only so she might have some leverage over her husband. You foolishly deny him. Soon he will grow tired of waiting and look somewhere else. Then we'll see if you don't come running to me!"

Harriet stared at him incredulously for a moment before running blindly off into the woods, the vicar having made her physically ill. She did not see Zoe crouching nearby, watching the entire scene.

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By dusk she had recovered somewhat, and found herself wondering why two boys needed so much equipment to spend one night in a tree house. Ian had three blankets, two pillows, a rather ragged toy that looked like it had been an elephant at one point in its life, a crate full of games and a change of clothes.

Rory had a full complement of bedding, a floppy old rag horse, a crate of what looked like more items for the tree house shelves, and clothing.

In comparison, Wolverton had nothing in his vicinity to even hint that he was to accompany the boys. The bedding she figured had been sent on ahead - even now the servants were bringing around a cart for the boys' belongings - but no clothing?

Harried had decided on wearing a plain muslin gown and had packed another loose gown, a shawl and a comb, feeling they were sufficient for her needs. She had already been instructed not to worry about bedding, food or entertainment.

Wolverton, however, appeared as if he were going to sleep on the hard wood floor in either what he had on or nothing at all. She flushed bright red at the thought, but if her husband noticed, he gave no sign, jumping on the cart and riding ahead.

She was still flushed, this time with pleasure, when the boys took both of her hands and pulled her through the garden toward their shelter for the night.

"...And we're going to have a fire and everything," Ian was telling her when they reached the tree house clearing. There was a fire, burning bright and surrounded by two logs and a hassock, and servants were handing up the last of the boys' belongings.

"Welcome," Wolverton called and the boys relinquished her into his care. She was seated on the hassock and given a mug of tea. She spied a table nearby laden with everything required to cook one's meal over an open flame.

Wolverton sent the boys off to cut sticks so they could roast sausages and then politely dismissed the servants.

"A nice time for us to sit and talk, don't you think?" Wolverton said suddenly. Harriet jumped. What on earth were they going to talk about? She wasn't about to tell him about the vicar. Evidently Wolverton had already decided on a topic of conversation.

"How would you like to invite your brother for a visit? I realize he, more than anyone else in your family, would be welcomed by you."

"Obie? Visit here?"

"Why not? There is plenty to keep him occupied, and if your father raises any objections, I shall hire a tutor to keep up his studies."

Harriet actually snorted at that idea.

"If Father kicks up a fuss I'll remind him of Obie's early acceptance to Cambridge..." Her brother did not need extra tutoring. He needed a couple of months of time spent outdoors, and she smiled at the thought of Rory and Ian in tow.

"Ah, good point. While we're alone, might I just say I think you are doing a wonderful job with the children?"

"Me? I am?" She blushed under his dark gaze. "I... I'm just doing what I think is right."

"It's exactly right." He seemed about to say more, but the boys returned with their sticks, and the four merrily roasted sausages and corn, and drank cider while they told silly stories and sang songs.

Later, Wolverton covered the coals with ash and ushered everyone up into the tree house, declaring it time for sleep. Harriet was told to go up first, get ready and then let them know when they might ascend.

She took a lantern with her, and gasped when she reached the top of the ladder. The interior of the tree house had been transformed into a giant sleeping area complete with loads of pillows and blankets, and netting over the windows to keep out insects. She quickly found her belongings and changed into the loose gown, wrapping her shawl about her shoulders. The late spring air was still chill.

"Ready?" Wolverton called, and Harriet replied in the affirmative, smiling as the boys came thundering up the ladder. They pulled off their coats, shoes and stockings before diving under blankets.

"Tell us another story!" Ian insisted of Harriet.

"After we're all here and ready for bed," she calmly replied, feeling anything but calm as she noticed the space in the shelter shrinking and shrinking with the addition of every new body. Once Wolverton came inside, there would be no room for her to breathe at all!

She was correct - he wasn't a particularly big man, but when Wolverton entered the room, Harriet felt immediately cramped, especially when he settled down beside her. The boys seemed to think nothing of it, and chattered about what story they wanted to hear as she watched Wolverton prepare for bed.

He shrugged out of his coat without standing and set about removing his waistcoat, Harriet holding her breath tighter with the loosening of each button. When that had been set neatly aside, he took off his boots and then pulled a blanket up and over the two of them.

She was speechless, but that did not seem to bother him. He lay his head down on the pillow next to hers and smiled.

"Let's hear the story of Robin Hood," he suggested. The boys were in immediate agreement. Harriet sighed and began the tale, trying to forget the large male body at her side as she told of Robin Hood, Little John and Maid Marian.

Chapter 10

It was after midnight and the boys were asleep. Harriet wasn't, though, and when she rolled over, it was to see the moonlight on Wolverton's face. He was awake too.

"Gerald!" she exclaimed softly. "I thought you were..."

"I know," he said a tad too smugly for her taste. "How could I possibly sleep with such a beautiful lady by my side?"

"I don't buy into flattery, Gerald," she said tartly.

"Who said it was flattery, Harriet?"

"Oh. It's not?" Once or twice in the past few days she thought she had seen a glimpse of something in his eyes, but...

"Harriet, I feel nothing but a very deep regard for your person and admiration for your physical beauty. But it is the liveliness of your mind and the loveliness of your soul that takes my breath away."

Harriet heard herself gasp in surprise. That was how she had always wanted to be viewed and here he was, saying the perfect words. Were they only words?

"Talk comes cheaply to many," was her stinging retort.

"That's why I prefer demonstrations..." Leaning over her on one arm, he put the opposite hand under her chin.

Harriet tensed slightly when she felt his hand on her, but the atmosphere was relaxed, almost casual, even if she felt anything but. He didn't ask permission or beg her pardon, either, just leaned over further and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Now, that wasn't so awful, was it?" he teased.

Harriet only shook her head. It wasn't bad? It was most pleasant. She wondered if a second kiss would be even better and reached a hand up to pull his lips back down to hers. He readily complied, although she could see very little of his expression, his face now hidden from the dim light.

"Just because I'm allowing you this liberty, Gerald," she said when she could breathe normally once more, "doesn't mean you will be receiving any other liberties soon. I'm... I'm not ready for them," she admitted.

"I think I can live with that for now," he said, although he was glad it was mostly dark and she could not see him frown. "I think another liberty, if you will, would be to keep the doors between our rooms unlocked... or even open."

She considered the request very seriously, the vicar's words echoing in her head. She thought maybe he and the dowager had gained their information from the servants.

"I think we could keep the doors open," she decided.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Why do you mistrust me so?" his disembodied voice wondered. "Or is it all men?"

She had to think about that, too.

"What do you expect? My father ignores us, my brother and I successfully routed six gullible gentlemen, and your vicar..."

"What about Singleton?" he said suddenly, reaching out, his hand tightening painfully on her arm.

Harriet tensed. She couldn't possibly repeat what the man had said to her, but...

"Nothing, really," she admitted. "He just makes me uncomfortable."

"How so?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it," she lied, when what she really wanted to do was put her entire hand on it, preferably with a resounding smack.

"Let me know if there is anything specific, please. I..."

He would have said more, but Ian sat up with a start and glared owlishy at them. "I'm trying to sleep here," he grumbled and flopped back down on his bedroll. He started to snore.

Harriet giggled and could feel her husband shaking with silent laughter next to her.

"So much for a chaperone," he said blithely. "But then, if he were awake, I couldn't do this."

He kissed her lightly and then pulled her close, tucking her head up under his chin and draping one arm across her waist. "Now, get some rest, sweetheart. The boys are bound to be up early, and I would not be surprised if Sydney joined us, as well."

Long after Harriet heard his breath drop to the steady rhythm of someone in a deep sleep, she lay there in his arms, wondering how she was supposed to rest when he was so close.

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Wolverton's words were prophetic. Rory and Ian were awake at the crack of dawn, their soft laughter waking her as they tried their best to keep quiet. She heard them leave and reached for Wolverton.

The hard, warm body she had gone to sleep with was still there, but had rolled away from her. She watched, fascinated, as the light slowly crept in the netted window and highlighted a pulse on the side of his neck. She resisted the urge to press her lips against that spot. Instead, she yawned, snuggled up against his warmth and went back to sleep.

When she awoke once more, her companion was gone and she was alone in the tree house. The laughter of the children - Sydney and, surprisingly, Zoe, included - rose up to her ears. She smiled, quickly dressed and descended for breakfast.

Everyone greeted her merrily as Wolverton handed her a mug of tea, and Sydney insisted on sitting next to her, chattering like a magpie.

Wolverton seemed animated as he passed around pastries warm from the kitchen. When he asked them all if they wished to go fishing, everyone cheered.

"Meet me down at the creek in a while," he told the children. "I need to escort Harriet to the house so she may write to her brother. She looks like she needs some sleep, too," he correctly ascertained. "You may go fishing with us the next time," he promised in a low voice, pulling her to her feet and walking her back to her room, where she was kissed lightly and told to get some rest.

She went straight to bed and dreamed of tree house kisses and the arrival of her brother.

Chapter 11

A week later, Harriet found a chance to do a good deed, although she had learned early on that one person in the household did not need to be won over - Lord Oscar. It was Wolverton's easygoing uncle, though, who was in a rare taking one afternoon. Harriet was sure if he had known he was being overheard, he would not have been so vocal. As it was, he was ranting to himself in the main drawing room when she entered, ready to endure afternoon tea with Zoe and the dowager.

Zoe, who had been civil to her the morning of the campout, had since returned to her surly attitude and Harriet was unsure why. Wolverton, on the other hand, had taken to coming to her bedroom door each evening to wish her a good night.

But she forgot all that now in the face of Lord Oscar's anger.

"Demmed smith! Says there is no new shipment of tin for more soldiers. I know it's because I haven't paid for the last ones yet..."

"Is there a problem, Lord Oscar?" Harriet interjected.

"Ah, Lady Wolverton! What a pleasant surprise. But please, child, call me Uncle Oscar."

"Thank you, and I wish you would call me Harriet. I always look about for your mother when someone calls Lady Wolverton. Now," she continued briskly, "there seems to be a problem. May I ask what it is?"

Uncle Oscar was silent for a moment and then the boys, who had been hiding behind a sofa, popped up with matching grins.

"Uncle Oscar can't get the smith to make him any more soldiers," Rory declared.

"The smith says it's because he hasn't any tin," Ian added. "But we know better - the tin arrived two days ago."

"Uncle Oscar is overextended," Rory said solemnly.

"Where did you hear that, pup?" Uncle Oscar growled.

Ian and Rory both started to reply, but Harriet thought she understood the situation and held her hand up, bringing all conversation to a halt.

"Gentlemen, collect your hats and coats. Rory, find your uncle and tell him we are taking a walk to the village, will you?"

Rory found Harriet a few minutes later with the report that his Uncle Gerald was out on the estate. She nodded as she adjusted her bonnet and picked up her reticule. "Thank you, dear. Shall we?" She put her arm through Uncle Oscar's, and with the boys running ahead, they went on foot into Wolverton.

"You are sure there is a new supply of tin?" she asked the boys once they reached the smithy.

"Yes, ma'am! We saw it being unloaded and everything!"

"Very well, then..."

Harriet stepped inside to be greeted by a large, beefy man in an ember-scarred apron and wearing a disdainful expression.

"Wot can I do fer ye, Miss?"

Harriet, who had yet to make the acquaintance of the village leaders, only smiled. "Good afternoon, Mr... Mr..." She trailed off, realizing she should have asked the boys the smith's name in advance.

"Mr. Brown, Miss," he supplied, but did not offer any more details, just stood there staring at her.

"Ah, Mr. Brown, the blacksmith," she said, smiling at her own jest, which he ignored. "I trust you are the tinsmith as well? The man responsible for Lord Oscar's soldiers?"

"That be me," he abruptly replied. "But I don't-"

"Good!" Harriet exclaimed. "I wish to order a set of soldiers made for him and I was told you were the man for the job. I'm Lady Wolverton, and..."

"Wot?" He jumped to immediate attention. "Yer ladyship!" he said, suddenly solicitous. "But you don't want to be buying tin soldiers for the likes of him, my lady."

"Oh?"

"He owes me money, my lady, and he don't need no more toys."

"Toys!" Harriet said indignantly. "Those soldiers are not toys, Mr. Brown. Why, they are... they are part of a program being conducted by the government." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Who do you think works out strategies in advance for the war office? Lord Oscar! Who do you think provides post-battle analysis?"

"Lord Oscar?" The smith's face had gone white under Harriet's steady gaze and alarming information.

"Lord Oscar," she said firmly. "Of course, it being the war office, he doesn't always get reimbursed on time. I'm here to settle the bill and order more. Can't let Napoleon win over a lack of tin soldiers on my lawn," she said sweetly.

"No, my lady. Whatever you say, my lady." Harriet pulled her draft book from her reticule.

He was still bowing and scraping as Harriet, having settled the debt, came sweeping regally out of the smithy ... and straight into Wolverton's arms!

"Gerald!"

"Harriet!"

"I ... I thought you were busy on the estate!"

"Apparently," came his dry reply. Rory and Ian stood off to one side, holding his horse and looking apologetic, but Harriet gave them a swift smile and they visibly brightened. Uncle Oscar had pushed past her into the smithy, and now he came back outside, singing her praises.

"What a gem you are, my dear!" he crowed. "Brown hasn't been that nice to me in a donkey's age! Whatever did you say to old fuss britches?"

"Yes, Harriet, whatever did you say?"

She stifled a laugh and indicated that they should head for home.

"Oh, not much, really. He was easier to deal with once I introduced myself."

"I can imagine," Wolverton murmured.

"And I should be ashamed of myself for telling fibs."

"You lied, Aunt Harriet?" Rory exclaimed. He and Ian looked upon her with worshipful eyes.

"Well, it meant a lot to Uncle Oscar..."

"Yes, it certainly did," the older man agreed.

"Get on with it, Harriet," her husband urged.

"Well, I just may have hinted that Uncle Oscar's soldiers are vital to the war effort and they didn't dare make a move without his tactical input..."

The boys whooped with laughter, threw Wolverton's horses reins at their uncle and raced ahead to the house to share their tale with Zoe and Sydney.

Uncle Oscar clapped Harriet on the back and declared her a great gun. He excused himself to take a path to the side of the manor, eager to get back to his soldiers.

This left Harriet and Wolverton alone, with just the horse for company.

"That really was too bad of you, my dear," he said, but he was smiling.

"I did pay the man..."

"Of course you did," he said soothingly.

"I just ... stretched the truth a bit."

"Uncle Oscar is going to love you forever."

Harriet blushed, but when he reached over and took her hand, bringing it to his lips, she did not pull away. Encouraged, he leaned over to kiss her on the lips, but just as he was about to do so, Rory and Ian came tearing back down the lane.

"Aunt Harriet! Aunt Harriet! Your brother is here!"

Harriet's face lit up with joy, but when she would have run ahead with the boys, she stopped. Pulling Wolverton's lips down to hers for a quick kiss, she took off running, eager to see her brother.

Wolverton, a wide grin threatening to split his face, watched her go, and began whistling as he walked his horse back to the house to greet his brother-in-law.

Chapter 12

Harriet reached the front of the manor and threw herself into Obie's arms, brother and sister hugging each other fiercely as Ian and Rory danced about in excitement.

"You came! You really came!"

"Of course I did!" He finished helping unload his luggage and had just put his arm around his sister's shoulders when Sidney and Zoe came out. Wolverton's ward stopped dead in her tracks. Harriet looked from one to the other with some alarm, especially when Obie stared back.

After introductions, it was Zoe who invited him in for tea, and he accepted with alacrity. Leaving Harriet and the children behind, the two young people went inside. With a shrug Harriet followed, but first asked for more hot water for tea. She also requested a tray of cakes and tarts for her brother, who was bound to be hungry and who enjoyed everything sweet.

Speaking of sweet, she thought a while later when Wolverton entered the room, her brother had turned the dowager up that way in less than ten minutes. The change in the old tartar was so noticeable, even Wolverton raised an eyebrow at his wife over the changed attitude being exhibited by his great-aunt.

Harriet could only shrug and wonder where Obie had acquired such charm. He had never shown any before now.

"Zoe!" the dowager suddenly barked; everyone jumped. "After his sister shows this young man his room, you take him around the house so he knows his way."

"Yes, ma'am," Zoe said meekly. Too meekly for Harriet's liking.

Obie rose then and excused himself and his sister with such ease, Harriet once again marveled at his charm.

"Happy?" he asked as they went upstairs.

"Yes. No." Obie laughed.

"I thought so from your letters. I was much relieved to receive your invitation so I could check on you."

"Thank you for coming," she said, reaching up and kissing her brother's cheek.

"It doesn't hurt that Wolverton's ward is very easy on the eyes," he teased.

"You will behave yourself, young man!" she replied, only half joking. Zoe was as pretty as a Dresden shepherdess, with golden curls and bright blue eyes.

"Yes, sister dear."

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An hour later, Obie found himself in a long portrait gallery with the lovely Zoe, but she seemed apprehensive for some reason. She kept glancing about and playing nervously with her curls.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked gently.

"Yes. No," she said quickly, unconsciously echoing Harriet. "I mean, I'm worried about something, but I don't know you well enough to tell you."

"Does it concern my sister?"

"Yes. That's the other reason I don't want to tell you. I haven't been exactly kind to Harriet since she arrived, and I don't want you to think badly of me..."

"I knew she wasn't happy, but I cannot believe it was only you making her miserable."

"No, the dowager is awful to her. I want to be nice to her, but I don't know how to make amends."

"Why don't you tell me what is bothering you and maybe I can help. That might make amends," he suggested.

"It might." She sounded doubtful. "But I will tell you."

She repeated what the vicar had said to his sister, leaving none of the horrid man's words out.

"Bloody hell!" he said when she was finished. The words echoed off the tall windows overlooking the gardens, and the many Wolverton portraits on the wall.

"Mr. Frost!" Zoe exclaimed, although she was grinning at his response.

"Has she told Wolverton?"

"I don't think so. I haven't heard of anyone lynching a vicar lately."

"Hmmm." The wheels were already turning in his head. Obie felt rather responsible for all this, having manipulated his sister into the marriage, so if there was someone else keeping her from the happiness he was sure she would find with Wolverton, that person must be stopped. "I'll have to think about this one. I suppose I'll have to wait until Sunday to meet this man?"

"No. He comes here every Friday to consult with the dowager on sermon topics."

"He does?" Obie brightened considerably. "Did you know I have an interest in theology?"

"You do?"

"I do now..."

They smiled at each other in perfect charity as they walked along the gallery.

"Mr. Frost? Do you think your sister will forgive me if I help rout the vicar?"

"I don't see why not. Harriet is a forgiving soul."

"Do you suppose those things the vicar said are true?"

Obie frowned.

"Knowing my sister, there is probably some element of truth in it all. With the frame of mind she was in when they married, I'd say Wolverton made her angry about something and this was the only way she could retaliate. But young ladies shouldn't know of such things," he said rather automatically.

"Why not? We have to grow up knowing them soon enough!"

He had no answer, and was saved from giving her one by the gong announcing the time to dress for dinner.

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"Harriet! Psst! Harriet!"

She started awake, aware that Wolverton was in the room. This was only the second time he had been there since their marriage, as far as she knew, and she opened her eyes and sat up in alarm only to find the man standing over her bed.

"Wolverton!"

"Shhh! Sorry to startle to you, but I want you to see something."

She frowned. What in the world could he show her at... She lit a candle and glanced at the little ormulu clock next to the bed. "Two?" Wolverton grinned.

"Put on your wrapper and come with me," he coaxed. She nodded and waved him away, unaware that the moonlight washing through the windows made a silhouette of her body against the thin lawn of her nightdress. Nor did she see the appreciative perusal of the same by her husband.

"Where are we going?" she asked softly after putting on a blue quilted robe and a pair of slippers.

"Outside."

"Oh." She didn't question him more, just followed him downstairs and out a side door into the garden. "The moon!" She stood in awe as the full globe of light passed in and out of the clouds, large and luminous in the sky.

"Beautiful," he replied, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms about her waist. "You should make a wish."

"You can't wish on the moon!" she scoffed.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

Harriet shrugged. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"Do you know everything, then?"

"Well, no..."

"Then go ahead and make a wish. What's the harm in it?"

"All right," she said with some resignation. "The wish has been made. How about you?"

He almost said he'd made many wishes lately, but he stayed silent except for a murmur of assent. They stood there for a long while, staring, until Harriet finally turned and looked at Wolverton instead.

"Well?" she said invitingly. "Aren't you going to make my wish come true?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he said and lightly kissed her upturned lips.

"Is that it?" she teased. In a sense, she was rather frustrated. She had been thinking about his kisses - and more, if the truth were told - and thought he would have been a little more aggressive about it by now. Unfortunately, he hadn't, so she had decided to take matters into her own hands.

"You want more?" he said in some surprise.

"Yes, please," she primly replied. He laughed and pulled her closer, holding her around one shoulder and her waist, and kissing her more soundly. Harriet sighed in relief, wondering just when it was she had developed such tender feelings for her husband.

They were wrapped up in each other for so long, they did not notice the clouds covering the moon, or the wind as it grew steadily stronger. Nor did they notice the first few drops of rain as it splashed their faces. They noticed, however, when the heavens opened and they were soaked to the skin before they could reach the house.

"I would be more than pleased to help you with your wet clothing," Wolverton offered as they reached her room.

"I would be more than pleased to let you," Harriet replied, and if it took them all night to get each other undressed, toweled dry and tucked into bed - together - no one knew except for the maid the next morning, who found soggy clothing all over the room.

Chapter 13

Wolverton woke up the next morning feeling rather smug about how things had turned out. He was also feeling a soft, warm body curled up next to his, and he reached over to touch Harriet's cheek.

A little too warm, he thought with some concern and got out of bed to ring for her maid. Getting dressed quickly in her room, so he could keep an eye on his wife, he was much relieved when the maid arrived, discreetly gathering damp clothes as she moved about.

"I think Lady Wolverton has a fever," he said. Tilly came over to the bed and felt Harriet's forehead. She nodded.

"I'll get her into a clean... a nightdress," she said with only a hint of embarrassment as she pulled back the coverlet. "You run along and get some breakfast, my lord, and I'm sure she will be awake when you return."

Harriet was awake, as Tilly predicted, but her eyes were glassy and she could not stop coughing. A maid appeared in the bedroom door and said Miss Sidney was also feverish, and most of the guilt Wolverton felt at keeping Harriet in the rain was assuaged by this report. His attentions, however, were now divided.

Harriet cast pleading eyes on him and he understood she was worried about Sidney, so he left his wife in Tilly's capable hands and went to check on the little girl.

In the nursery, Nanny had sent the boys out to play and had isolated her youngest charge.

"With the young masters off to school in the fall," she told her employer, "it's time they had their own rooms, my lord. It also will keep them from being exposed to Miss Sidney." Wolverton agreed and began to make plans in his head for the boys' belongings to be moved that morning.

"You might want to send word to Lady Danvers, my lord. Miss Danvers was here to play only Tuesday, and I would not like her to fall ill."

Between calling for the doctor, getting rooms ordered for the boys and sending a note to Jellie, it was a while before he could check on Harriet. When he did, she was silently fussing with Tilly about drinking some water, unable to talk but still managing to convey that she had a sore throat.

Harriet brightened considerably when Wolverton entered the room, but he had time only for a smile and a kiss on her forehead before she dozed off to sleep.

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Word that Harriet and Sidney were ill spread fast, and Obie and Zoe used the illness and its ensuing household disorganization as an excuse to go for a walk and make plans.

"Tomorrow is when the vicar calls on the dowager," Zoe said as they inspected the roses in the garden. "They'll have tea together, discuss a few lesson topics and then Mr. Singleton will read his upcoming sermon. It's all rather dull and boring and I don't know why you wish to attend. Why don't we just have someone catch him in a compromising act with one of his parishioners?"

"Is that possible?" Obie asked, ignoring the impropriety of it all. He had learned his lesson concerning Zoe's outspokenness the day before. Zoe laughed.

"He and Miss Clementina Bright have a regular meeting in the woods every Saturday afternoon."

"How do you know? Does everyone know?"

"I know because I first saw them a couple of months ago and they show up in the same spot every week. That first time, I thought an animal had been caught in a trap, but it was only Miss Clementina..."

"I get the idea," Obie said hastily, his ears turning pink. Zoe seemed to be paying him no mind as she broke off a rose and began denuding it of all its petals.

"I don't watch, of course..." she rattled on, "but anyone with good hearing - and some without - can tell..."

"Yes, yes," Obie impatiently replied, eager to change the subject. "But who should catch them?"

"Uncle Gerald?"

"No, we need it to be someone who dislikes the man enough to spread the word. Wolverton would just beat him to a pulp and that would be the end of that. We'll have to sacrifice Miss Clementina's reputation, though."

"No hardship there," Zoe said, dismissing that woman with the wave of her hand. "I love it when the dowager tells Mr. Singleton he needs to discuss her soul's condition with Miss Clementina. I have to sit through these visits sometimes, you see, and I sit there and watch the sweat pour right off his brow."

"That gives me an idea... A couple of them, actually..."

"Tell me!" He did and they laughed as they headed back to the house to check on Harriet's condition.

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The doctor had come, pronounced Sidney and Harriet as having infections, and left. Tilly insisted on obtaining the prescribed medication from the apothecary, and while she was gone, Wolverton called Zoe, Obie, Uncle Oscar and Aunt Victoria together. They had gathered in the main drawing room when Lady Danvers was announced.

"Gerry!" she cried, striding into the room. "I would not blame you if you never allowed the children to play together again. They were together several times last week and Belinda had a slight sniffle, but it went away and I never gave it another thought. Then dear Harriet and little Sidney seemed fine on Tuesday... Will they be all right?"

"Have a seat, Anjelica. I was just about to tell everyone what is happening." Jellie flopped down on a sofa next to Obie and eyed him with curiosity.

"My brother-in-law, Mr. Frost," Wolverton said, remembering his manners. "Obie, our close friend and neighbor, Lady Danvers."

Obie wondered at first if some of Harriet's unhappiness stemmed from this neighbor and her "close" relationship with Wolverton, but he curbed his wariness after seeing that lady's genuine concern. That, and Zoe kicked his foot as if to admonish him for his thoughts.

"They are going to need bed-rest for a couple of days and are not to be disturbed," Wolverton told everyone. "Ian and Rory have been moved to rooms of their own." If the boys, who had gone to the tree house, had been present, they would have cheered. Zoe and Jellie exchanged smiles, but the dowager shook her head in disapproval.

"In my day..." she began, but Wolverton cut her short.

"Now is not the time, Aunt Victoria."

"Perhaps Zoe should spend a few days at Danvers Court," Jellie suggested, but rescinded when it she and Mr. Frost appeared alarmed at the prospect. "Or not. I'm sure she could assume some of Harriet's household duties." Zoe nodded vigorously and Jellie was even more suspicious. Zoe hated household chores. "I won't keep you," she added, rising from the sofa. "I just wanted to apologize for Belinda's unwitting part in all this. I'll have my cook send over something special to tempt the invalids. Nice to meet you, Mr. Frost. I'm sorry your visit coincides with such an unfortunate event." She patted Wolverton's shoulder on her way to the door. "Let me know if there is anything I can do to help."

She left almost as noisily as she had arrived, her riding boots beating down hard on the hall's black and white marble tiles. A maid came into the drawing room with a verbal message for the earl.

"Zoe, would you and Obadiah go out to the tree house and fetch the boys?" he asked with a sigh. "It seems there is some concern upstairs as to the ownership of some of their property."

The two young people departed happily enough, although both were worried about the two patients.

"I hope Harriet gets well soon so I can apologize to her," Zoe said as they cut across the garden to the tree house.

"I can't believe that's all you are plotting," Jellie said from the other side of the hedge. "Although an apology would be in order, Miss Zoe."

"Yes, Jellie. I know." Zoe hung her head.

"That act won't fadge with me, my dear. I know you two are up to something."

With an apologetic look at Obie, Zoe told Jellie everything. When she was finished, Jellie gave them a beatific smile.

"I think you've just found yourselves a willing accomplice."

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Wolverton sat by Harriet's bed all afternoon, even though she continued to sleep restlessly and even though Tilly urged him to go downstairs and do some work.

He should have found something else to do, he realized later. All he did was worry that she had not been right in her mind the night before.

What if she gave herself to me without even knowing it?

He dismissed that for the ludicrous thought it was. That was no delirious or comatose woman he had held in his arms.

What if she doesn't remember any of it later?

That had him worried.

Chapter 14

That night Harriet's temperature increased and Wolverton never left her side, even at the risk of infection. By dawn, fortunately, her fever broke and Tilly sent him to get some sleep in his own room while she tended to her mistress.

Sidney, too, was feeling better that morning, and Wolverton, after checking on the little girl, took Tilly's advice. If he had been aware of the mischief Zoe, Obie and Anjelica were involved in, he would have never gone to bed. Fortunately for the co-conspirators he was down for the count when the vicar arrived.

It hadn't taken much to convince the dowager to allow them to join her, and Zoe was already pouring out tea when the minister was announced.

"Mr. Singleton, I would like you to meet Lady Wolverton's brother, Mr. Frost. Mr. Frost, our esteemed vicar, Mr. Singleton." Obie bowed politely to the man and pretended not to notice when he leered at Zoe. It would not do to get into a fight. Yet.

"Good day to you, Miss Zoe," Singleton said, looking her up and down. "Have you two come to join us only for tea?"

"Oh, no!" Zoe exclaimed in a little girl voice that would fool no one but the dowager and the vicar. "Mr. Frost is a scholar of divinity at Cambridge, and he so wanted to meet you and hear your sermon, sir." The two young people had the pleasure of watching Mr. Singleton break into a sweat.

"Divinity student? Cambridge?" the vicar said with a gulp.

"Why, that is your alma mater, isn't it, Mr. Singleton?" Zoe asked sweetly. She had heard him talk enough about the place to assume he was a graduate.

"I attended Cambridge," Singleton hedged. "I didn't exactly graduate from that particular university."

Obie and Zoe looked at each other with unconcealed delight as the vicar quickly changed the subject. This was better than they planned.

“Mr. Frost is an exceptional student,” the dowager bragged, unwittingly playing into Zoe’s hands. The older lady had only heard Wolverton say so two evenings before at dinner, but it must be true – the young man was so charming.

“He graduated monstro sane laudo from Eton,” Zoe said proudly. Obie choked on his tea, especially when the vicar declared that he, too, had graduated with that distinction, only from Harrow.

The man had graduated with what roughly translated to ‘show rational praise’? Did Zoe know Latin, or had she just accidentally made up something that was correct, if silly. Obie was wondering if a letter to the bishop was in order when the dowager began running through a list of neighbors who might need spiritual guidance. When she got to the Brights, Zoe and Obie paid closer attention.

“Two unmarried sisters like that, living together with no companion, no male protectors. You must call on them, Mr. Singleton. They would be better off as paid companions, or living with relatives…”

“I shall strive to talk with them once again.”

“Miss Clementina seems to have some influence on her sister,” Zoe said piously. “Perhaps she would be the person to work on?”

Obie choked on his tea once more. Zoe was going to get them both in trouble!

“Perhaps we could go with you?” Zoe suggested innocently, only to watch with satisfaction as the vicar visibly paled.

“I think not,” the dowager said imperiously with a frown. “The man knows his work.” The younger people only agreed and the rest of the meeting was limited to mundane topics.

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“Gerald?” Harriet croaked upon waking early that evening. “Sidney?”

“His lordship is resting, my lady,” Tilly soothingly replied. “Didn’t hardly leave your side. Miss Sidney is on the mend.” She sat Harriet up and gave her a sip of cool lemonade. Harried winced as it went down her throat. “I’ll just pop over and check on his lordship for you, shall I?”

“Please.” Harriet was glad to hear her speech was less raspy and she drank more lemonade.

Tilly had a quick word with the earl’s manservant and Wolverton was soon sitting in a chair at Harriet’s side. An awkward silence fell.

“The other night…” Harriet managed to say.

“Was wonderful,” Wolverton quickly replied.

“It was?”

“It was.” Wolverton took Harriet’s hand in his and caressed her fingers with his thumb.

“I didn’t imagine it, then?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Good.” Harriet relaxed and drifted off to sleep, and he exhaled, unaware he had been holding his breath.

“I have to dress for dinner,” he told the maid. “Will you send for me if I am needed?”

“Oh, yes, my lord.” She had already made the staff aware of where his lordship had spent the night before last. About time, too, in her opinion. Especially after all the rumors. Who knew what kind of tales had gotten around about the mistress she had come to adore?

Tilly curtsied and went happily about her work as the earl went back to his room.

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After dinner Wolverton excused himself to sit again with Harriet, telling the others they could visit with her and Sidney the next day, if they were improved. He was unprepared to find gifts had been delivered to Harriet while he had been downstairs.

There was a box of chocolates from Uncle Oscar, a pretty handkerchief from Zoe, an amusing little note from Obie and the finest specimen from the boys’ rock collection. Harriet was sitting among this largesse, staring at the handkerchief.

“Uncle Oscar is a dear, isn’t he?” she said in a scratchy voice, offering him his choice of chocolates. She didn’t say a word about Zoe’s past behavior, just looked on the gift as a good sign.

To Harriet’s surprise and delight, Zoe even came to visit the next morning.

“Lady Wolverton?” she asked tentatively when Tilly allowed her to enter.

“Come in, Zoe,” Harriet called in a friendly tone, as loudly as her throat would allow.

“You’re still ill!” Zoe exclaimed, hearing the growl in her voice.

“I’m better,” Harriet assured her and waved her guest to the chair next to the bed. Wolverton came in from the dressing room, a smile upon his face.

“Good morning, Zoe. How kind of you to drop by on your way to breakfast.”

“I wanted to talk to Aunt Harriet,” the girl said almost shyly, as if she was unsure of the reception of that particular name. One look at Harriet’s wide smile, though, and she knew she had said the right thing. “About girl things, Uncle Gerald…”

Wolverton took the hint. “I’ll be at breakfast if you need me,” he told them, kissed Harriet’s cheek – causing her to flush – and quit the room.

Zoe barely waited until the door was shut to move over to the bed.

“Will you forgive me for being so horrid?” she asked, tears in her eyes. Harriet reached out and stroked Zoe’s bright curls.

“Of course. Especially since you were only moderately horrid. If you had been horribly horrid, I might have to think about it,” she teased, handing Zoe a handkerchief. “What do you think of my brother?”

Zoe blushed, caught unawares by the question. “He’s… very nice.”

“I think so, too. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” she warned.

“Oh, I could never hurt Obie!” Zoe blurted out and then blushed once more.

“Would you bring him to visit this afternoon? How is Sidney?”

“She is doing much better and her nanny says she may get up and move around a little today. Shall I ask Mr. Frost to carry her in here for a visit?”

“I would like that. The boys may come, too, if they don’t get too boisterous.”

“I’ll bring them, too,” Zoe assured her.

Tilly came in at that moment with Harriet’s breakfast of dry toast, a little bit of gruel and some weak tea. Zoe made a face and excused herself to go downstairs for a real breakfast.

Harriet was in such a good mood over Zoe’s apology, she ate her meal without protest.

Chapter 15

By the next Friday Sidney and Harriet had recovered enough to join the family downstairs for afternoon tea.

Zoe and Obie had wracked their brains in the meantime, trying to figure out what to do with the vicar. Obie had sent an anonymous letter to the bishop, suggesting he look more closely at Mr. Singleton’s credentials, but it was too soon to hear from that quarter.

The vicar was expected any moment for his usual visit with the dowager and they all looked up with varying degrees of expectancy when they heard noises in the hall. The person who breezed into the room, however, was not Mr. Singleton.

“Darlings!” Jessabelle cried as she strode to the center of the room. Her outstretched arms, covered in bright red velvet, reached for Harriet, and she embraced her sister.

“You’re looking pasty-faced, darling,” Belle said in a sotto voice as she kissed the air above Harriet’s ear. “You need to be outdoors. Your freckles are fading and we can’t have that, can we?” In a cloud of expensive perfume, Belle moved on to Obie, who was doing nothing to conceal his distaste for his eldest sister.

“Look at you, Obadiah! All grown up and off visiting! I was sure Aunt Phoebe was not serious when she wrote you were here. Or Harriet, for that matter…” she added. “I vow, I turn my back for one teensy second and she steals my fiancé from behind me!” she announced to the room at large. “Wolverton, darling!” She moved on to her next target. “So kind of you to make do with the leavings!”

This was exactly the kind of thing the dowager loved to hear and she jumped in with an imperious introduction before Wolverton could reply. An invitation to sit next to an old lady who knew none of the news followed.

Belle went willingly enough, knowing she had found an ear for her particular brand of poison.

Harriet wanted to plead fatigue and retreat, but changed her mind when Wolverton came to sit next to her on the sofa, taking her hand in his.

“So tell us, Mrs. Richardson,” Wolverton asked, placing an emphasis on her married name. “What brings you to Hertfordshire?”

Belle laughed, a gay, tinkling sound she had perfected over the years. “My husband is a wealthy merchant, but he is so wrapped up in business, he barely has time to spend with his beautiful wife. I’m afraid I’m just a show piece,” she said in a forlorn voice. “So I decided to visit my brother and sister, since Aunt Phoebe seems to think this is where all the entertainment is. I have to say I agree,” she blandly added, but her eyes said differently.

Harriet looked away. Some things never changed. Belle was only here for two reasons. London was boring this time of year, and she wanted Wolverton. Married or not, she wanted him.

“Yes, but it’s not hunting season,” Obie interjected, as wise to her ways as Harriet. Belle made no reply, but her expression promised severe retribution for that comment.

Into the midst of all this familial harmony came the vicar, taken slightly aback at the large group gathered around the teapot. He nodded to Wolverton, cast a nervous glance at Zoe and Obie and then made a beeline for Belle.

The dowager made the proper introductions and Belle, who always enjoyed an appreciative male audience, allowed him to goggle her low-cut bodice. Mr. Singleton was hard-pressed to attend the conversation after that. He spent the next hour staring at Mrs. Richardson’s cleavage and barely answering the dowager’s questions. He missed Obie’s thoughtful expression and the worried looks Harriet gave her brother.

Harriet saw her brother wink once at Zoe, however, and the girl’s answering grin was positively evil. She resolved to speak to Wolverton about her brother and his ward as soon as possible.

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She wasn’t able to speak to Wolverton the rest of the day. It was decided to invite Sir Marcus and Jellie to dinner to meet Mrs. Richardson, and when the acceptance came, the household scurried to make the evening perfect.

That meant Sidney and Harriet were sent back to bed for a rest, the boys were banished to the tree house and Zoe and Obie were told to amuse themselves outdoors.

“Yes, run along, children,” Belle said, dismissing them with a wave as she clung tightly to Wolverton’s arm. Obie opened his mouth for a scathing reply, but a warning glance from Wolverton and Zoe’s insistent tugging on his arm changed his mind.

“Your sister is … interesting,” Zoe said diplomatically as they walked through the garden. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone else in red velvet at this time of year.”

“Yes, you could call her interesting,” Obie said with a grin. “I prefer calling her a witch, myself.”

“Mr. Frost!” she exclaimed, but her eyes twinkled merrily. “She was certainly chummy with Uncle Gerald a few minutes ago,” she noted as they headed for Danvers Hall. Jellie needed to be warned about their guest before the dinner party.

“I don’t believe Wolverton has any feelings towards her, if that is what you are wondering.” He told Zoe the story of how he had helped bring his sister and the earl together.

Zoe sighed. “That is so romantic. We absolutely cannot allow anyone to come between them. Mrs. Richardson certainly enjoys the attention of the menfolk, though, doesn’t she?” she slyly added. “The vicar could absolutely not keep his eyes off her, er, face.”

“I know.” A light went on in Obie’s head and he shared a wide smile with his companion. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Absolutely! I think we finally have a plan, Mr. Frost, and it will kill two birds with one stone!” The two raced off to the hall to share their ideas with Jellie.

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Harriet sat in the drawing room after dinner, surprised as anyone that the evening had been so amiable.

Zoe had come into her bedroom when it was time to dress, in a deceptively simple white muslin that made the girl look like an angel, and offered to help Tilly get the countess ready for the evening. The two had looked through Harriet’s wardrobe carefully, talking about Harriet as if she were not sitting there in bed, and finally decided on a blue-gray silk that almost exactly matched Harriet’s eyes.

Care was taken with the dressing of her hair, and then Wolverton, amused to have been approached by his ward earlier concerning a certain set of family jewelry, came in and presented his wife with a silver chain holding tourmalines set in a silver starburst. There was a tourmaline clip for her hair, as well, and a thin bracelet of the dark blue stones for her wrist.

She was in good looks when her guests arrived, even though she knew she could never compare to Belle, who was tall and elegant in sapphire blue. Harriet did not see her sister covetously eyeing her jewels, but Zoe did and nudged Obie to call his attention to it. They gave each other rather self-satisfied smirks that were wiped off their faces the moment Harriet glanced their way.

Anjelica and her husband arrived, Jellie wearing old gold, and after a few weary moments of trying to converse with the guest of honor, Jellie gave it up and gravitated toward Harriet. Mrs. Richardson did not seem to notice, as she had one hand on Wolverton’s arm and the other on Sir Marcus as she told what she thought was an amusing story, not realizing neither man was particularly entertained.

“I’m so pleased to see you up and around,” Jellie said. “You must enjoy having your brother visit, too.” It went unsaid that Harriet must not like her sister being in residence.

“Thank you so much for your visits and the little presents you sent. I do like having Obie around. He and Zoe have become great friends, as well.”

Jellie smiled. “She was very bored not having a companion her age. It doesn’t hurt that he has nothing but admiration for her person, either. I’ve been in a position recently to entertain the two at the hall a time or two…” Her secret smile did not alarm Harriet, although it should have. She was beginning to see why all the children gravitated to this outgoing lady. “Fortunately, they are rather level-headed when it comes to affairs of the heart. If it’s meant to be between them, they have enough sense to wait a few years.”

“That’s a relief,” Harriet replied, and she meant it.

After dinner, where Belle nicely restrained herself from making any derogatory comments about her siblings, the ladies retired to the drawing room. Harriet and Lady Danvers once again put their heads together in conversation, but this time they were joined by Zoe. The dowager, who disliked Harriet and barely tolerated Anjelica, motioned for Belle to join her.

“Now, tell me more about how your sister stole your fiancé, Mrs. Richardson…” the old lady purred. Belle was more than willing to oblige.

“She looks and acts so innocent, and she is really a snake in the grass,” Belle admitted.

“She was innocent, until a sennight ago, or so my maid tells me.”

“You mean they didn’t … they never … Hmmm.” That information gave Belle pause, and some food for thought.

Belle really didn’t really want Wolverton, of course, or she would already be his countess. No, she was merely peeved that Harriet, her plain, dull sister, should snatch up her leavings so quickly. She wasn’t too thrilled with Wolverton, either, thinking so little of her that he replaced her with Harriet. For that, they were both going to pay dearly – Wolverton with his body and Harriet, fool that she was, with her heart.

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“What did you think of Lady Wolverton’s sister?” Anjelica could not help but ask her husband later that evening as they rode home.

“She was amiable enough,” Sir Marcus vaguely replied. He thought maybe he had imbibed in a little too much of Wolverton’s excellent port, because he was pleasantly drowsy.

“At first, perhaps,” Jellie said tartly. “She is a different person when gentlemen are around. Can you believe the way she hung on Gerry after you joined us? What was so important, anyway, that kept you over your port and had you all rather pie-eyed?”

“It was the oddest thing, really,” Marcus admitted. “Every time Mr. Frost, Oscar or I suggested we retire to the drawing room. Gerry poured another round.”

Jellie’s expression was thoughtful. Perhaps Gerry was not as insensitive as she thought. Her afternoon’s conversation with Zoe and Mr. Frost had been enlightening and plans had been revised to include Mrs. Richardson, despite Anjelica’s initial reluctance. After observing the lady with Harriet, she knew reports of the elder sister had not been exaggerated by the young people.

“What a quaint group of family and friends you have acquired, Harriet dear,” Belle had said at one point. Champing at the bit when the gentlemen had taken their sweet time joining the ladies, she had turned on Harriet for sport. “A crotchety old lady, a handful of disrespectful children and a crazy gentleman for family, and a handsome neighbor and his insignificant, horsy wife for friends.” She had laughed derisively and Jellie had no doubt the remarks had been made to be overheard.

“Lady Danvers is not insignificant, and she is an excellent horsewoman!” Harriet had said in defense of her friend.

“Such admirable qualities,” Belle sarcastically replied, unconsciously fluffing her blond curls – curls Jellie perversely thought more appropriate for a girl Zoe’s age.

“I think so,” Harriet mildly agreed. That was the end of the conversation, because the rather owlish-looking gentlemen came into the room at that point, and Mrs. Richardson had begun an assault on Gerry.

Yes, thought Jellie smugly as she leaned ba