Lord Harry by Catherine Coulter

A gentleman and lady stood facing each other across the expanse of a large oak desk. Of all things, the lady was dressed in tight-knitted men’s breeches and a white silk shirt. In her hand was a foil. She was young, very beautiful, her dark auburn hair flowing down her back, bound only by a narrow black ribbon. The young lady suddenly turned. “Harry.” She dropped her foil on the desktop and rushed forward. She threw her arms about Harry’s neck and hugged him hard. “Oh, my dear, it’s so good to see you again. She drew back, and Hetty saw her vivid green eyes were sparkling with pleasure. “How very smart you look, my dear, that waistcoat all those lovely yellow stripes, goodness. Oh” She drew to a halt and looked past her brother into Lord Harry’s embarrassed face.

“Now, Kate, don’t ruin my waistcoat, old girl. It is quite the thing, this waistcoat of mine. Every gentleman wants one. The tailors can’t make them fast enough, but I’m the first, don’t forget that. Ah, this is Lord Harry, a special friend of mine. My sister, Kate.”

There was no sign of discomfort on the countess’s face as she sent a dazzling smile to Lord Harry. “How very nice of you to visit, my lord. Julien, come away from the desk and say hello to your brother-in-law. Come, my dear, you haven’t seen him for a good seven weeks. Surely you’ve forgotten how he drank the best of your claret then got violently ill on the Aubusson carpet in the library, haven’t you? It isn’t just Harry, you know.”

Hetty saw that the earl of March didn’t take any offense at all. He straightened, smiled lazily at Harry and strode forward. “It’s good to see you again, Harry. Now, who is your friend here?”

“Lord Harry Monteith, Julien. You know, I wrote you about him yesterday. Dashed good fellow, and needs your backing for White’s.”

“I’m honored, my lord,” Hetty said formally, her voice as deep as she could make it, and bowed. She had the inescapable feeling that his lordship’s gray eyes saw straight through her coat, waistcoat, and shirt to her chemise. He was an extraordinarily handsome man, and as a woman, Hetty appreciated his smile in a way that Lord Harry couldn’t begin to.

“So you’re another Harry, eh?” the earl said with a smile, and pumped Hetty’s hand. He turned to Sir Harry. “As always, Harry, your timing is impeccable. Your sister and I were just having a rather heated discussion. It will be difficult, but if Kate agrees, we will turn the battleground back into a library.”

The countess lightly poked her husband’s arm, and said, “My dearest Harry, I’m becoming quite accomplished with the foil. And now, just because I’m breeding, Julien must play the possessive overbearing husband. Don’t you think it dreadful of him?”

“Breeding! That’s wonderful news, Julien, Kate. Oh my God, you’re breeding, Kate? You’re actually breeding and you’re still hopping about in boy’s clothes and fencing? I don’t believe it. Good Lord, you should be locked in a closet, for your own good.”

“No help for you from that quarter, Kate,” the earl said, his eyes resting upon his wife’s face. There was such tenderness in his gaze that Hetty felt suddenly like a chair in the middle of a crowded ballroom. “Your termagant of a sister just informed me a few minutes ago, else I would never have allowed her to batter me with her foil.”

“Batter? It was more than just battering, Julien. I had my foil at your throat at the time. But look at you now, all puffed up in your husbandly conceit. Just like a man, acting like a crowing bandy rooster, so proud of your prowess. And you, Harry, agreeing with him. I ask you, Lord Monteith, is it just for a woman to sit docilely about, doing nothing at all that is any fun, just because she is pregnant, while men issue all the orders and strut about?”

“It isn’t at all fair,” Hetty said promptly, forgetting that she was a gentleman. “I’ve heard that exercise is very beneficial for a lady who is in the family way.” Oh dear, the earl was looking at her now, and he was surprised.

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