Page 196 of The Ladies Least Likely
Her lashes flickered, her expression growing veiled. “Your mother won’t allow me to see you again.”
“My mother can’t keep you from me,” he growled. He curled his fingers into fists to keep himself from reaching for her, as if he could hold her against him and not let anyone take her away.
That smile, that distracting pucker at the sides of her lips. He wanted to kiss each one.
“Why won’t they talk with you?” Ren burst out. His tongue felt enormous. “The others. They pr-pretend not to see you. Is it me?”
“Of course not.” She looked away, showing him a perfect profile. “It’s me. I am, as your mother observed, not goodton.”
“Why not?”
She was the most beautiful woman in these rooms, he could see that at a glance. She held her head high and moved with an assured grace that commanded admiration. When the movements of the other girls seemed affected, every gesture calculated for effect, Harriette was relaxed and at ease. Serene inher own skin. He’d always admired her calmness, when he was so easily troubled or overset.
“Mmm. Let’s save that story for another time. Whom should you meet? Lady Derby is happily married, and from the style of her robe, expecting again.” Her eyes scanned the glittering crowd. “The Duchess of Hunsdon is lately returned from the Continent, and she recently lost a court case over her late husband’s estate. She’ll be in search of a new protector, but far too cold-hearted to be a match for you, Ren.”
She swiveled, spotting a row of rout chairs set against a wall near one of the doors. “I wonder who that girl is? She’s been sitting alone ever since we came in.”
Ren spotted her, too. The only person with dark skin in a room of powdered and painted paleness, she sat with quiet dignity, watching the dancers. Her plain dress, wool not silk, and the turban wrapping her hair suggested she was someone’s dependent. Ren wondered at Harriette’s interest.
“But I suppose we should—” Harriette faltered and her face grew slack with surprise. “Lady Bess. Bessington. Your ladyship.” She dropped into a clumsy curtsey. He had never seen Harriette clumsy with anything. “What a most unexpected pleasure,” she said, her words rushed and overeager.
The stately matron before them was the pinnacle oftonand style. Her wig, powdered a pale pink, glittered with rubies, and the rose silk of her gown peeked through cascades of elaborate embroidery and what might have been diamonds. At the tip of one rouged cheekbone perched a black silk beauty patch in the shape of a tear. Her reddened lips curved in a smile that was amused but not unkind.
“Miss Smythe. How pleasant to see you again. But where is your very interesting aunt? I do wish the Countess of Calenberg would show more of herself at these functions. I look forward to making her acquaintance.”
“You wish to know my aunt?” Harriette looked dazzled. “But she is not here. Through some, er, remarkable oversight, Lady Renwick did not include my aunt in her invitation. Your ladyship, do you know the Earl of Renwick? Renwick, the Countess Bessington. She leads one of the more interesting salons in London, and her husband is one of the few Scottish peers in the House of Lords. You will be certain to encounter him when you take your seat.”
“You may call me Lady Bess, if we are to be friends.” Her ladyship acknowledged Ren’s bow, which was no less awkward than Harriette’s. His foot felt as stiff as if it bore an iron shackle, and he didn’t trust his tongue. He wondered what about this glamorous lady intimidated Harriette, who, he guessed, was otherwise daunted by nothing.
Harriette pressed her hands together, giving her ladyship a look mingled with adoration and apprehension. “Wouldyou be friends with me, Lady Bess? I seem to bepersona non gratishere tonight.”
Ren moved closer to her, his protective instincts stirred. Lady Bessington merely smiled.
“Your…connection with the recently departed Graf von Hardenburg seems to be much envied,” Lady Bess said. “And much talked about, I’m afraid. He was considered quite dashing, and you did seem a particular favorite of his.”
A hot bolt of jealousy shot through Ren. It was a sharper pain than the various manipulations the good Dottore Scarpa had performed on his foot. He felt a sudden urge to locate this foreign count and strangle him.
Harriette shook her head. A bit of powder wafted free from her hair, settling on her shoulders. “The Graf von Hardenburg was lately in London on a diplomatic mission from Prussia,” she explained to Ren. “I met with him to try to find out more about my mother’s family, since she has told me nothing.
“I think the count took an interest in every young lady who came into his purview,” she remarked to Bess. “But I did a lovely pastel for him to take back to Prussia with him. For his wife.”
Lady Bess chuckled and moved her fan lazily before her chin. “I think what excited talk, my dear Miss Smythe, were the very titillating sketches of the count that circulated through all the London bookshops.”
“Ah.” Harriette’s eyes shifted guiltily over the room. “I suppose everyone here read that gossip paragraph in theMorning Intelligenceridentifying me as the artist.”
“Were you?” Ren blurted, shocked.
She met his eyes, a shadow moving through hers. But as always, she was forthright with him. “Yes, I drew them. I should have told you at once, Ren. Those sketches have made me notorious. I’m not at all the person to help find you a bride.” She bit her lip, leaving a groove in the natural berry-red. He wanted to kiss it away. “Your mother was right,” she said unhappily.
His mother was wrong. Anyone who wanted to keep him from Harriette was wrong. “How notorious?”
“Enough that anyone with the pennies to do so bought as many as they could.” Lady Bess’s black silk patch crinkled as she smiled broadly. “I myself own several. I don’t doubt the fame will increase your commissions, Miss Smythe.”
Harriette’s mouth fell open at this and she stared at Lady Bessington, speechless, hopeful, and a tad undignified.
“Countess Bessington. How lovely to have you in my home.” Ren’s mother bore down on them, a buccaneer determined to board a stately galleon. “I take it you and Renwick have been introduced?”
“Welcome back, your lordship,” Lady Bess said to Ren. “We are all very interested to hear what you think of us.”
