Gideon Harrington was a liar, Harry decided.
It was a full three weeks since Gideon and Robert had left her aunt and uncle’s home to ride to London with the intention of discussing the new developments regarding the death of the previous Duke of Plymouth with his friends.
Or so he had claimed was his purpose.
Harry was now inclined, more than ever, to believe that, although Gideon obviously did need to speak with the other Ruthless Dukes, he had never had any serious intention of seeking her out after he had done so.
And, oh how her heart ached at that realization.
Despite how busy the past three weeks had been.
As Harry had said would be the case, she had remained at her aunt and uncle’s home for another week, caring for her father until he was well enough to travel back to into Gloucestershire.
There was also the more immediate problem of what was to be done with Edward.
On her father’s instruction, he had also remained in Bedfordshire with them before accompanying them back to the Dunhill estate.
Harry had told her father of Gideon’s recommendations, and after careful thought, the earl had agreed it appeared to be the only way to cure Edward of his addiction.
Predictably, Edward did not see it as a way of helping him at all, and he had fought most strongly and very loudly against being dispatched to the Continent, accompanied by the two burly men her father had hired to ensure Edward did not have access to opium again.
In the end, the two men had kept Edward secured in one of the cottages on the estate until the worst of his violence and ranting had passed. A week ago, they had deemed her brother well enough to travel. The two of them had left the following day and taken a very subdued Edward with them.
Harry sincerely hoped that by the time they returned, Edward would be cured of his craving.
In the meantime, as she had done many times these past three weeks, Harry was once again sitting beside one of the windows in the main salon at the front of Dunhill Manor. Her purpose, as always, was to gaze down the long driveway as she waited for a man whom she no longer believed was ever going to appear.
She was a fool to have ever hoped otherwise, she berated herself. A naïve and impetuous fool who had been taken in by a man who was not only older and more experienced than her, but who had also reached the age of three and thirty without losing his heart to any woman.
Harry had hoped, oh, how she had hoped, that she would be the exception.
But it was not to be.
They were not to be.
She gave a humorless laugh at how ridiculous it had been of her to ever have thought Gideon would want someone like her. A woman who was lacking in societal manners. Who could be abrasive. Who was too forward by half in both her comments and behavior.
Harry’s cheeks heated as she all too easily recalled the intimacies she and Gideon had shared that afternoon at Whiting Manor.
Her behavior that day, she was now forced to realize and accept, had been beyond scandalous. So how could she possibly have hoped Gideon would wish to see her again?
She had been an amusement to him. A silly little girl who had been stupid enough to ever believe the haughty Duke of Oxford might fall in love with her.
As she continued to be with him.
Out of sight, out of mind did not do anything to lessen the love Harry felt for Gideon in her sore and aching heart.
Absence did make the heart grow fonder.
Harry had decided that both those proverbs must have been said by someone who had never felt as if their heart was breaking apart at the thought of never seeing the person they loved again.
Worse, if Harry did ever have a London Season, which her father now seemed to think she should, then she would one day be forced to see Gideon again. Perhaps by then, he would even be accompanied by his wife. Harry had no doubt she would be a tall and elegant lady, with fine and beautiful features and a polite and gracious manner.
None of which Harry—
“I have received a letter.”
Harry gave one last lingering glance down the empty driveway before making herself smile warmly as she turned to face her father.
He had entered the blue salon and now waved the aforementioned letter in his hand at her. His movements were as sure and lithe as they had ever been, her father having now made a complete recovery.
“What letter, Papa?” she prompted with forced interest.
“It is from…”
“The Duke of Oxford?” Harry brightened.
“It is from Charlie, one of the two men who accompanied Edward to Spain,” her father corrected.
“Oh.” She deflated. “Is Edward well?”
“According to his minder, they have arrived safely at the villa I rented for them, and Edward is settled and doing very well.” Her father looked at her over his half-moon glasses for several seconds before glancing down at the contents of the letter he held. “Is there a reason why you assumed the Duke of Oxford might be writing to me?” he mused wryly.
Her lashes lowered. “I had assumed, now that he is aware of your own actions that day, he would send news to you of what he and his friends intended doing regarding the mysterious happenings surrounding the Duke of Plymouth’s death.”
“He already did so,” her father informed her lightly.
“He did?” It was the first she had heard of it.
He nodded. “A week ago now.”
It made her heart race to think her father had received word from Gideon a week ago and not told her.
She stared. “Papa, why did you not tell me you had received this letter?”
His brows rose. “I had no idea of your interest in either the matter or the Duke of Oxford was quite so…fierce.”
Harry avoided his speculative gaze. “I am, of course, eager to learn if there has been any further development regarding the previous Duke of Plymouth’s death.”
“Only that?”
“Of course.”
“Hm.”
Harry had always thought her father to be somewhat dreamy in his manner, someone who preferred the company of birds and animals than bothering himself with the complication of people’s emotions.
But as she looked into his frowning gaze, she realized her father was now speculating as to her interest in Gideon Harrington, the Duke of Oxford.
“Is there anything you wish to tell me, my dear?” His gentle prompting confirmed that speculation.
“No,” she instantly dismissed. “Nothing at all,” she added for good measure.
“I see,” he said slowly. “Then you will not be in the least interested to hear that in his letter, the Duke of Oxford stated it is his intention to arrive here later today.”
Harry stood abruptly. “Papa…?” she gasped, once again feeling the warmth of a blush in her cheeks. “Why did you not tell me that?”
“You have been so despondent these past few weeks, and we have so few visitors, that I had thought to keep his visit as a surprise for you,” he explained. “But I see now that I should have shared it with you earlier so you might fully enjoy the anticipation of his visit.”
Anticipation?
She was absolutely thrilled to learn Gideon was coming to Dunhill Manor.
Today!
“Only because I need to inform the housekeeper to prepare a bedchamber for him.” She glanced at her father from beneath thick lashes. “I presume the duke will be staying the night?”
Her father nodded. “I believe it is his intention to remain here for several nights.”
Harry’s heart stuttered. “For what purpose?”
Her father shrugged. “I presumed he was taking the time and trouble to come here in person so that he might tell us what more, if anything, they have discovered concerning the mystery surrounding the death of the previous Duke of Plymouth. I assumed that was the reason, because one really does not question too deeply the actions of a man as toplofty as Oxford,” he added ruefully.
Harry intended doing so.
At the first opportunity.
* * *
Gideon had deliberately chosen to travel by carriage to Dunhill Manor. Not to delay his arrival there, although there was no denying it had done that, with him having had to stay overnight at a coaching inn rather than ride directly into Gloucestershire.
No, he had chosen to travel in his most prestigious ducal carriage because he had wished to arrive with all the pomp and splendor of the Oxford title on display. Literally, because the Oxford coat of arms was painted on the black lacquered doors of the carriage.
The display was for Henry Church, not his daughter, because Gideon knew Harry well enough to know she would not be impressed by the opulence of a carriage, even a ducal one.
As she had never been impressed by anything to do with him being a duke, he recalled with an affectionate smile.
From the first, Harry had teased and mocked him in a way no one else ever had.
It was both refreshing and unique.
It was, he acknowledged, Harry.
Gideon’s chest tightened at the thought of seeing her again, these past three weeks having passed with the speed of a snail. Moreover, a snail that had stopped to examine every leaf and blade of grass along its way.
But he would very shortly see her again. Be with her again. Hopefully hold her and kiss her.
His anticipation grew when, an hour later, his carriage turned onto the long driveway leading to Dunhill Manor.
That anticipation dimmed somewhat when, having been admitted to Dunhill Manor by the butler, a virago rushed down the wide staircase without a care for her own safety.
“Where have you been?” Harry demanded once she stood in front of him, without a care for the presence of the butler who had just taken Gideon’s hat and cane.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes fierce with accusation, her breasts quickly rising and falling above the curved neckline of her pretty peach-colored gown.
It was not the greeting Gideon had been hoping for or imagined during these long weeks they had been apart. “Could we perhaps take this conversation somewhere more…private?”
Her eyes narrowed to sparkling blue slits, her hands resting on her hips as she continued to glare at him. “I have no intention of being ‘somewhere more private’ with you ever again!”
“I am sorry to hear that.” He reached out to grasp her arm. “Because I have every intention of the two of us talking together without an audience,” he added in warning.
“I will inform the earl of your arrival, Your Grace,” the butler told him smoothly before leaving Gideon and Harry alone in the vast entrance hall.
“A good fellow, that,” Gideon admired. “Your father should give him a raise in his wages.”
“You… He…” Harry spluttered with obvious outrage. “I have not seen nor heard from you for a full three weeks, and all you have to say to me is my father should increase Kilby’s wages!”
“I have much more to say to you than that,” Gideon assured her mildly. “But I would prefer to say it as I spank your bottom in the privacy of either your private parlor or bedchamber.”