Maddie sat next to Kit for dinner, but she covertly watched Harrison as he entertained the group at her mother’s end. And it was working. The heiresses nearby—two banking and one railroad—made calf eyes at him, thoroughly entranced.
Maddie signaled to the footman for more wine.
“Something wrong?” Kit asked from her left side. She had purposely seated him next to her in the middle of the table.
“No. Why?”
“For starters, I’ve never seen you have more than one glass of wine at dinner.”
“Perhaps I am taking up after you and Harrison.” Though Kit hardly seemed inebriated any longer. He had been clear-eyed and steady since they’d arrived in the dining room. She lifted her now-full glass and swallowed a mouthful.
“Does this bother you?” Kit tilted his chin toward Harrison.
“What? Dinner?”
“Watching Harrison around other women.”
“Of course not,” she said instantly. “It is the entire reason for the house party.” The question of Harrison’s illegitimate children burned on her tongue, but it was hardly proper dinner conversation.
“Good. That would certainly complicate things, with your pending engagement and all.”
Right. Lockwood. She was being ridiculous. Harrison would choose one of these women to marry and Maddie would sail off to England as a duchess.
Ignore what is happening at the end of the table.
She focused on Kit. “Have you discovered your lady in red?”
“No. Any chance you’ll give me her identity?”
“None.” She knew, of course, but it was too much fun to torture him.
“I think it’s the blonde fourth down from Harrison.”
He studied her face but she gave nothing away. “Interesting.”
“Dash it, Maddie.” The older woman on Kit’s left gasped, and he quickly shifted to apologize for his language.
Stifling a laugh, Maddie glanced at the young woman on her right, a shy shipping heiress from Boston. “Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Lusk?”
“Indeed, I am,” Alice Lusk said as she cut into a roasted parsnip. “Though I’m not very good at making conversation with men my age. You seem to excel at it.”
“There is not much to it. Men are interested in simple things. Food, sports, horses . . . and Mr. Archer likes all of those, if you find yourself at a loss for conversation.”
Alice heaved out a sigh. “I almost didn’t come, I was so anxious. But my mother insisted.”
Maddie had never liked Mrs. Lusk, who took every opportunity to inform her daughter of her supposed faults. This was the precise reason Maddie had seated Mrs. Lusk away from Alice at tonight’s dinner. “You’ll do fine. Harrison is—was—my closest friend and he’s a good man. No matter what happens here or in the coming months, you will end up with a wonderful husband who deserves you.”
“I’ve had two seasons,” Alice said, color staining her cheeks. “Mother says I may have to take what I can get.”
“Nonsense.”
“That is what I told her. No lady should have to settle. After all, you had three seasons before you landed a duke—and you are one of the most popular girls I know.”
No lady should have to settle.
Maddie wanted to agree, but . . . were they not all settling? Every woman in this room would marry a man she did not love because that was what their world required. Matches were made for financial and societal gain, usually at the whim of their parents. Fortunately, Maddie liked the duke and knew they would get on well together. It was not love, however.
You had three years before you were forced to marry. Yes, she’d had more freedom than most. Now she was marrying the best catch in all of England and America, an honest-to-goodness duke. Really, how could she complain?
The rest of the meal passed slowly. Finally, Mama led the women into the salon for coffee, while the men stayed behind to smoke cigars. In the salon, a few of the heiresses pumped Maddie for information about Harrison, no doubt to get ahead of the competition. She tried to be fair and speak to everyone, but some didn’t seem all that interested in Harrison or marriage. Like Kit’s mysterious lady in red, Nellie Young.
A gorgeous auburn-haired woman, Nellie was a hair’s breadth from scandal at every turn. Her mother died when Nellie was a small girl, and Nellie now ran roughshod over her financier father, a man who doted on his only daughter. There were rumors of gambling, lovers—even of visits to brothels. They had debuted together, and Nellie was probably Maddie’s closest friend. Still, while Maddie adored Nellie, she’d never been able to keep up.
Seeing Nellie alone by the window, Maddie went over. “Already tired of mingling?”
Nellie’s lips curved into a smile. “Merely gathering my strength for the night ahead.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Never fear, Saint Maddie. I won’t ruin your house party.”
Maddie lowered herself down to the other end of the window seat. “Actually, I was surprised you came.”
“Father’s idea. I occasionally do as I’m told, you know.”
“No you don’t. Plus, there’s a strange light in your eyes that is vaguely familiar.”
Nellie chuckled. “Fine. A friend is staying up the shore a ways. I am meeting him later for a midnight swim.”
“You are incorrigible.”
“You sound just like a duchess.” Nellie’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Though I must say, I always suspected you and Harrison would end up together.”
“Oh, we’re merely friends.”
“On your side, maybe. You know he has been in love with you forever, right?”
Maddie waved that off, though her heart did a tiny flip in her chest. “Harrison was not in love with me.”
“Not was—is.”
“You are talking gibberish. The sea air has gone to your brain.”
Nellie’s gaze narrowed on Maddie’s face. “My God, you really don’t know, do you? He watches you all the time, like he’s obsessed with you.”
Yes, so obsessed that he left for Paris without saying goodbye, possibly had a mistress there with whom he fathered an illegitimate child or two. “He’s not, I promise.”
“I always thought he was an empty-headed swell, like some of his friends, but he seems different after Paris. More mature. Confident. And, dare I say, handsomer?” She paused and studied Maddie’s face. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Was Nellie fishing to see if Maddie’s opinion of him had changed? Well, Maddie had no intention of confessing her private thoughts, not even to a close friend. “I hadn’t really noticed.”
“Liar. Nothing slips your attention, which means you didn’t want to be honest with me. I wonder why?” Nellie’s attention wandered for a brief moment toward the door. “He’s just walked in. If he comes directly over here, then you’ll know I am right about his feelings for you.”
“Hardly an empirical study, Nellie.”
“There’s no need for an empirical study when it comes to men. All the knowledge I require is right here.” She tapped a fingertip to her temple.
“Hello, ladies.” Harrison now stood there, glancing down at them. “I hope I am not interrupting.”
Nellie shot Maddie a smug look before rising. “Of course not, Mr. Archer. Here, take my seat. I need to stretch my legs a bit.” She moved away to join a small group of women near the fireplace.
Harrison sat at the other end of the window seat. “I hadn’t thought she knew my name.”
“All the ladies here know your name.”
“I suppose that’s true, but I haven’t been introduced to that one yet.”
“That’s Nellie Young. You probably don’t remember her.”
“I don’t, I’m afraid. Should I?”
She studied him from under her lashes, distracted by the transformation in him. Even Nellie had noticed it, apparently. He was thoroughly masculine, a grown man, with a thick, strong throat and rugged jaw. He still had adorably rumpled hair, though. And the same smile.
Why was she so fascinated by these changes? And why did they set her heart racing?
He was looking at her carefully, one brow raised in question, and her mouth started moving before she could stop it. “Did you father a child in Paris?”
The question caught Harrison off-balance. His face slackened, his brows shooting high. Maddie must have been equally taken aback because she immediately put her hand over her mouth, her expression filled with pure horror.
Silence descended for a long moment before her cheeks turned a dusky rose. “Forgive me. I have no right to ask you such a thing. Forget I even brought it up.”
Unlikely he could forget such an unexpected question. She and Kit had whispered all throughout dinner, so had his friend led her to believe Harrison had fathered a bastard in Paris? Kit was certainly capable of such troublemaking. “Who told you that?”
She carefully straightened the pleats of her skirt, not meeting his eye. “I won’t say. Besides, your personal life is none of my concern.”
He folded his arms across his chest, fighting a smile. Her discomfort was adorable. “Someone must have put the idea in your head. Who was it?”
“No one. I must have drunk too much wine.”
“Yes, I noticed you had a second glass.”
That made her look up, her brows pulled low. “Why would you notice such a thing?”
“Do not change the subject, Mads. I want a name.”
“I won’t tell you. So is it true?”
He studied her carefully. She seemed to be holding her breath, as if bracing for bad news, awaiting his answer. Was she worried he would say yes?
This was an interesting turn. Why would his answer matter? If she felt nothing for him, then she would not have pressed the issue. Was this jealousy?
Jealousy implied feelings. Deeper, non-brotherly feelings.
Was his plan working?
Spirits lifting considerably, he said, “I have no children, legitimate or otherwise.”
Her shoulders relaxed, though her voice remained nonplussed. “Oh.”
“Oh? That is all you have to say?”
“As I said, it’s none of my business. I don’t really care either way.”
She was a terrible liar. She bit her lip and looked down each time she lied, just as she was doing now.
He decided to explore this idea of jealousy a bit more. Leaning in, he dropped his voice. “If you must know, I had a close longtime friend of the female variety while there, and we were diligent about preventing consequences.”
She cleared her throat, and her hands curled into fists in her lap. “I see.”
Harrison pressed his lips together to keep from grinning at this turn of events. It was like a door had opened, a new path revealed, one that led to a future with Maddie. And he had no intention of going backward.
But he knew she didn’t like to be pushed, preferring to do the pushing instead. Therefore, he took pity on her and changed the subject. “Why did you wait until your third season to marry?”
“So I could play tennis.”
“Married women play tennis, Maddie.”
“I know, but I wanted to take time to really focus on my game, see if I could compete nationally. Mama agreed, thankfully.”
“Probably for the best. The English are quite stuffy about their royalty, you know. They like to produce heirs and keep up appearances. I can’t imagine Lockwood is keen on your tennis ambitions.”
“Wrong. He is entirely supportive. In fact, he sends me flowers to wish me luck before every match.”
Harrison nearly snorted. He knew dukes, and they all had a long string of boring names as well as ridiculous nicknames from Eton. They were, in short, insufferable prigs. “I met a few dukes during my time in Paris,” he said. “Generally not the most enlightened bunch.”
“Lockwood is not like that.”
Harrison seethed, his teeth clenched at her defense of the precious duke. “Are you certain?”
Twin spots of color returned to her cheeks, this time accompanied by a flash of anger in her gaze. “Of course.”
Kit arrived and frowned at them both. “Have you forgotten?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Heiresses? Marriage? Stop arguing and go circulate.”
“We are not arguing,” Maddie said when Harrison remained silent.
“Maybe, but the two of you are having an intense conversation in the corner while a roomful of eligible women are watching.”
Sure enough, several sets of eyes were directed toward their corner.
“And,” Kit said quietly to Maddie, “if you are serious about this endeavor, then you mustn’t monopolize his time.”
Maddie opened her mouth, likely to argue, but Kit lifted an arrogant brow, daring her to deny it.
“I came over first. It isn’t Maddie’s fault,” Harrison said. Still, Kit was right. It was time to circulate.
Besides, he wouldn’t win her after one conversation. This was a dance that required him to advance, then retreat, advance a bit more, then retreat. Like a hunter, he had to use intelligence and stealth to get what he wanted. He couldn’t scare her with too much, too soon.
Standing, he crossed to the sideboard to get a drink. Lydia Hartwell was the first to approach him, asking, “Attend any races at Longchamp while you were in Paris?”
He picked up his crystal tumbler. “I did. At least two or three every season. Have you been?”
“No, though we went to Ascot two years ago. I love horse racing.”
“Horse mad, are you?”
“Guilty.” The edges of her mouth twisted in a self-deprecating smile. “I like to spend time outside. Sitting indoors, talking and sewing, bores me to tears.”
“That must be why you and Miss Webster are friends, then. She’s much the same way.”
She laughed, the lines of her face softening. “I once asked her to teach me tennis. After that, I decided to stick with hunting and riding.”
“She takes tennis very seriously. It’s her competitive nature.”
“I soon realized as much. She did not go easy on me, either. It was a thrashing.”
Harrison shook his head and took a sip of bourbon. “If it’s retaliation you’re after, take her shooting. She cannot hit the widest of targets and she hates to lose.”
“I like that.” She clinked her glass coupe to his crystal tumbler. “You have a devious mind, sir.”
He tried not to smirk. You have no idea.