Lord Harry by Catherine Coulter

Hetty unwisely said, “You wretched men. Why must you always think that if a woman shows any spirit at all she has to be tamed? Tamed? Like some sort of bloody animal. I had hoped that being married to Louisa would have given you more sense.”

“Hetty, Jack has sense, truly he does.”

“Not from what I see. You, Sir John, may be a domestic tyrant in Herefordshire, but here you have no authority at all. In short, dear Jack, I shall do exactly as I please, and with no interference from you. Now, finish your breakfast.”

Sir John’s fork clattered to his plate, this time sending his scrambled eggs plopping to the tablecloth. Before Hetty could draw another breath, he jerked her from her chair, clasped her about the waist, and lifted her above his head. He shook her until her teeth rattled.

“Jack dearest,” Louisa said, tugging on his sleeve, “you must remember that you’re just a wee bit larger than Hetty.”

But Hetty wasn’t the least bit afraid of Sir John’s attack. As he swung her above his head, she remembered times long ago when her giant of a brother would gleefully toss her about. “Oh, Jack,” she said between gasps of laughter, “you’re such a bully. I do love you so.”

He shook her once more, then lowered her to her feet. Slowly, he drew her against his chest.

Hetty snuggled her face against his shoulder and said, her voice breaking, “How I wish Damien were here. God, I miss him so much. Every day and I still miss him. I can’t bear it sometimes.” She burst into tears.

Sir John’s eyes met his wife’s above Hetty’s head. She nodded silently and slipped quietly from the breakfast room.

He gently stroked his sister’s soft fair curls, momentarily bereft of speech. It was several moments before he said softly, “I know, Hetty, I know. Damien was a part of me too. I miss laughing with him, hell, yelling at him. He was the finest of brothers.”

Hetty raised her tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry, Jack, for being so selfish. Of course you feel his death as strongly as I do.” She pulled herself suddenly from his arms and whirled about, pounding her fist upon the table. “It’s so damned unfair.”

She managed to gain control. “Forgive me again. I’ve upset you quite enough. Please, Jack, don’t worry about me. I go along quite well, really.”

Sir John sighed and patted her on the shoulder. “I suppose you do, Hetty. It’s just that Sir Archibald takes no notice of you and I do worry. So does Louisa. You’re so damned young.”

“Father is Father, Jack, and will never change. I am quite used to his ways, and, indeed, wish him to be no other way. He doesn’t interfere with my activities, you know.”

“Does that mean you still refuse to tell me why you didn’t wish to see Jason Cavander?”

For one long instant, Hetty wanted to pour out the truth to her brother, to tell him that Jason Cavander was no friend. She thought of the letter, safely locked in her dresser drawer, Elizabeth’s heartrending farewell to Damien. She shook her head, her tongue still. No, revenge was hers and Lord Harry’s. She realized that were she to tell him, and were he to believe her, the outcome could be disastrous. Jack was all the family she cared about, Sir Archibald being of little influence in her life. Were he to die in a duel, she would be alone. As would Louisa, little John, and the small unborn infant in Louisa’s womb. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to lie outright to her brother.

“Please, Jack, don’t demand that I give you an answer. Suffice it to say that I loathe the Marquess of Oberlon. My reasons must remain my own.”

Sir John, his little sister’s defender, said, “He didn’t insult you, did he, Hetty?”

“No, he’s in no way offended Henrietta Rolland.”

“Good. It’s unimaginable, but still, I wish you’d talk to me, Hetty.”

“No, Jack, leave it be.”

He did then, saying as he took his leave of her, “Louisa wants to visit Richmond, a picnic, you know, and a visit to the maze. And tonight there is a masked ball at Ranleagh House. Lou told me she wants to recapture some of her wild youth before turning stout and matronly. You’re not promised to something tonight, are you? You will join us, won’t you, Hetty?”

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *