Lord Harry by Catherine Coulter

He flicked an invisible speck of something from his coat sleeve. “I, ah, well, my dear sister, I’m glad you’ve arrived home in time to make yourself beautiful. Er, even more beautiful, I should say.”

“Beautiful? Why? What’s this all about? Come clean, what the devil have you done, Jack?”

“If you must know, my dear, we will be having a guest for dinner this evening. Don’t worry, for I have already spoken to Mrs. Miller and she’s right now in a dither of cooking. I believe, Lou, that you will be quite pleased.”

“Who the devil is coming to dinner?” Hetty said, poking him in his massive chest with her finger. “Tell me now, and wipe that idiot grin off your face, or I’ll give you to Louisa for some more training and taming.”

“Very well, I’ve invited Jason to dinner.”

Hetty frowned, for she knew no gentleman named Jason. To her surprise, Louisa flung herself into her husband’s arms. “Oh how wonderful, Jack. It’s been an age since we’ve seen him. Is he quite recovered from his tragedy?”

“I don’t know, Lou. You’ll have to judge for yourself.” Sir John was aware of the irrepressible gleam of matchmaking in his wife’s eyes. He probably had the same gleam himself.

“Jason who?” Hetty said, tapping her foot.

Sir John looked mildly surprised, then shook his head. “I guess you wouldn’t have met him yet, Hetty. He only just returned to London. When he and I were close, you were still in the schoolroom. He’s Jason Cavander, the Marquess of Oberlon.”

“Lord Oberlon,” she repeated, her brain numbed, her voice flat as her chest was when she was fifteen. “Lord Oberlon,” she said again. “You know the marquess? Jack, how come you to know him?”

Louisa said, “Ah, you didn’t know that Jason Cavander and Jack were thick as thieves some years ago? They were both in the same college at Oxford.”

Hetty shook her head, couldn’t seem to take it in. But it was true. She said finally, “Did Lord Oberlon also know Damien back then?”

“Of course,” Sir John said. “Not as well as I did, of course, for they were separated by some five years. He promised me to keep an eye on Damien whenever he was in London, after Lou and I married and left for Herefordshire. He’s the best of fellows, poor chap.”

By God, she thought. How could Jack be so taken in? He believed that vile man to be his friend? Was he bloody blind? Had he no sense at all? Words tumbled out of her mouth, unchecked. “How dare you invite Lord Oberlon here? I’m mistress of this house, and you had no right to invite anyone without my leave, damn you.”

Louisa gasped.

“Well, what’s done is done. Since you, Jack, have invited that despicable man to this house, he can’t now be uninvited. But I tell you, Jack, I will have none of him. Do you hear me?” She drew to an abrupt halt, realizing how much she’d just blundered. Sir John and Lady Louisa, mouths agape, stared at her.

Sir John was the first to recover his tongue. “What the devil are you talking about, Hetty? How can you possibly become such a shrew over a man you’ve never met? Damnation, girl, this passes all bounds. What do you mean he’s despicable? That’s utter bloody nonsense.”

Her brother’s words had a calming effect on her. She drew a deep, shaking breath and said, “Please forgive my ranting, Jack, Louisa. You will, I pray, give Lord Oberlon my apologies.” She backed toward the drawing-room door. “Unfortunately, I’m already engaged for the evening, and indeed, must go now and dress. I shan’t be home until very late, so please don’t wait up for me. I shall see both of you in the morning.”

“But, Hetty, we are just arrived. Surely you can send word, you can”

“I’m sorry, Louisa, truly I am, but I can’t. It’s an engagement of long standing. There’s no choice at all. I must attend.” She saw the flushed anger on her brother’s face, and before he could demand an explanation of her, she grabbed up her skirt and fled the drawing room.

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