Lord Harry by Catherine Coulter

Author:Catherine Coulter [Coulter, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Romance, Adult
ISBN: 9780783820019
Google: G_MdWgvbsvMC
Amazon: 0451208145
Barnesnoble: 0451208145
Goodreads: 517363
Publisher: Signet
Published: 1995-01-01T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Pottson was busily engaged in adding a dash more garlic to a steaming mutton dish upon Hetty's return from her ride in the park with Melissande. She breathed in deeply, demanded a spoon, and dug in. "Oh goodness, Pottson, it's wonderful. It's much too good for Sir Harry and Mr. Scuddimore. We can save it for just the two of us. Haven't we several apples we can give Harry and Scuddy?"

"Go on with you, Miss Hetty," Pottson said, waving his own spoon at her.

Hetty was changing into Lord Harry's clothes, when there came a knock on the bedchamber door. It was Pottson wiping his hands on his apron, looking like a man hunted. Behind him stood Millie.

"Oh, Pottson. You startled me out of my skin. What's happened?" Hetty quickly pulled a robe about her shoulders. "Don't tell me Sir John and Lady Louisa have returned to London? Oh no, that can't be."

"No, it's not Sir John, thank the good Lord. The cat would have jumped out of the bag if they'd stayed any longer in London. No, it's your father, Miss Hetty. He's up and done it again. Lady Melberry has invited you to another party and Sir Archibald accepted on your behalf. He wanted to see you, Miss Hetty, but I told him you were resting. You must know that I had to tell him that you would be delighted to go, so as to keep him from suspecting you weren't at home."

"You did just the right thing, Millie. Drat Sir Archibald anyway. I doubt he even remembered that I asked him to consult me before he accepted any more invitations. Oh well, it's done. Now, we must hurry. Quickly, Millie, fetch a pen and writing paper from Pottson. There is just enough time for him to pay a visit to Sir Harry and Mr. Scuddimore and cancel our evening together. Pottson, you'd better not eat all that stew by yourself."

A scant two hours later, Miss Henrietta Rolland, the dowdy specimen who had made her debut but a week before, climbed into Sir Archibald's carriage, pressing the green alexandrine cap against the top of her head to keep it from being whipped away by the harsh evening wind. As before, she didn't balance the spectacles on her nose until she pounded the knocker at the Melberry town house. The Melberry butler again looked at her as if he prayed devoutly she'd disappear. She gave him a big swarmy smile and a bigger squint.

She quickly scanned the assorted ladies and gentlemen clustered in small groups in the drawing room. Her sense of wariness eased. She didn't see Lord Oberlon. Miss Henrietta Rolland wished to avoid his grace to the same extent that Lord Harry Monteith wished to be thrown into his presence. She said all that was polite to Lady Melberry and quickly made good her escape to a far corner of the drawing room, there to observe, and hopefully, not to be observed by any of the other guests.

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