Eloisa James - Duchess by Night (22 page)

Im sorry. I know youre enjoying being a man.

It couldnt last forever.

It was like everything else in life. Nothing lasted forever.

Of Ladies, Amazons, Whoremongers, and Prickles

H arriet copied out the last lines of Nel s poem for Strange and perfumed the stationery before taking her bath. She sat in the hot water for a long while, thinking over the last week.

She was changed foreverbut that wasnt necessarily bad. She couldnt stay a man. But she could change her life. Never again would she sit for two hours while her maid built her hair into a towering set of false curls. She would never wear ruffles again either. A mantua maker could fashion her comfortable clothing, fit to the body, though made for a woman. She might even bribe Vil ierss tailor into making her a gown or two.

And she would continue to learn how to fight with the rapier, even though women never did such a thing.

Final y, and this was crucial, she would like to have a child. A child meant a husband. It meant going to London and attending the bal s she loathed.

Surely she could find a man who was interesting and intel igent. The picture in her mind was alarmingly familiar, clever and pale, but she threw that thought away. Strange was part of this bizarre, wonderful little interlude. And that was al .

She pul ed on her breeches for the last time, helped Lucil e wind strips of cloth around her breasts, pul ed a white shirt over her head. Then she walked into the portrait gal ery and looked for Eugenia.

Shes not here, a deep voice said from the corner. Jem was leaning over a glass case. The top was up.

What are you doing? she asked, coming to join him.

Removing this chess set.

He was taking them out, one by one, and placing them on top of the cabinet. They were carved little pieces of fantasia, each piece with its own expression.

Look at the black queen, Harriet said. She looks as angry as my cook when the fish is off. The black queen had her hands on her hips. She had a fantastic headdress, made of a delicate bal carved with openings, inside of which was another bal , and inside that another.

Jem looked at her over his shoulder, his dark eyes faintly smiling. I hardly know the look on my cooks face at the best of times.

Now I think of it, theres a chef down in my kitchens.

Wel , this is what my cook looks like at the worst of times, Harriet said. The black queens lip was curled, and she appeared to have just stamped her foot. Why are you removing them?

Im sending them to London, Jem said. Il give them to the Duchess of Beaumont. She once expressed interest in them.

Real y? Theyre so beautiful. My Harriet bit back the words. Benjamin would have loved the set, but Mr. Cope had no husband, dead or otherwise.

Id give them to you, but theyre cursed.

Harriet laughed.

I bought them from a Moroccan prince visiting London, Jem said, as if he didnt hear her laugh. He told me that anyone who owns the set wil never be happy in love. He cal ed it an anger board.

Thats absurd, Harriet said.

I thought so too, but I broke up the set by sel ing the white queen, just in case, Jem said. And now Ive decided to get rid of the whole set. Ive seen a lot of queer things and Ive learned not to trust my own sense of reality.

Given the way your tower stays upright, Harriet said, I believe you.

Al the little pieces were out of the case now. The kings had their fists in the air and seemed to be screaming war cries. The bishops had odd masks pushed up over their heads. The look on their faces would make one shiver. She picked up a pawn, only to find that he was carrying a lance that poked her in the hand.

Il leave these for Povy to pack up, Jem said.

Dont send them to Jemma, Harriet said. Sel them instead.

He turned around. So you believe in the curse?

When Jem smiled it did something to her stomach. Her much-vaunted commonsense told her to run. Her heart told her to smile back. Maybe even lie back.

The company must be addling her brain. Before long shed be sending men bits of erotic poetry. Which reminded her, so she pul ed the perfumed sheet of paper out of her pocket.

Just a minute, Jem said. He was getting ready for their match, pul ing off his jacket, rol ing his sleeves up muscled arms. Al this male beauty was bound up in the sense of freedom shed had this weekbut that was a mirage, not real life.

She could find a gentleman to marry. Anyone who wanted children, and had a decent personality.

Jem raised an eyebrow when he read the ful verse.

My body is but little,

So is the nightingales

I love to sleep against prickle

So doth the nightingale.

And if youd like to know my name,

Youl find me wearing a veil

And nothing else!

A veil sounds ominously like a proposal of marriage, he said, tossing the sheet away.

It believe the word offers a clue to your correspondents name, Harriet said.

I cant imagine who that might be.

He knew who it was. He knew Nel s last name was Gale. But he was pul ing off his boots, not looking up.

Do you receive many letters of this sort? she asked.

No. I fancy the cleverness of it is to your credit. I do receive many propositions, general y more boldly phrased.

Why?

He looked at her, eyebrow raised. You may not credit this, Harry, being as youre a prettier man than most of the women out there, but women do find me attractive.

Im not pretty! Harriet protested.

Unfortunately, you are, he said flatly. Just look at the effect you had on poor Kitty. And its not as if she hasnt had many to choose from.

She didnt write me any letters.

The way he looked at her made her feel like a fool and a king at the same time. And a woman, through and through.

Youre a man, Harriet told herself. Remember youre a man .

Im not sure how good Kitty is with her letters, Jem said. If youd like, I could help her. The way you helped my little nightingale come up with rhyming words.

Harriet opened her mouth to deny it and then sighed. Wel , arent you the least bit tempted? Thats the first poetry Ive written in years.

By the nightingale? No. But Im shocked by you. Who would have thought you knew words like prickle ? Or could employ them souseful y?

Harriet felt herself growing a little pink. I know al sorts of words.

Youl have to give me a vocabulary lesson one of these days, Jem said dryly. Im sure I could use instruction.

Surely your mistress could do that service for you, Harriet said, before she caught back the words.

His answer came a few heartbeats too late, after shed had time to think about what a fool she was. I dont have one, he said.

Harriet had her masculinity firmly in grip now. Every gentleman has a bit of muslin, she said. You neednt lie to me, Strange.

Cal me Jem, he said with emphasis. My name is Jem. No mistress. I had one for a while a few years ago, but she wanted to meet Eugenia. That wasnt going to happen.

Has Eugenia recovered from last night? Harriet asked.

Yes. Her governess has been dismissed, and so has the footman who was supposed to be at her door. Povy discovered they were spending the night together in a knife closet, of al places. Are you ready to fence, Mr. Cope?

It seemed to Harriet that Jems eyes gleamed when he said Mr. Cope , as if he relished the sound of it, but she said nothing.

Just went to the side of the room and hauled off her boots. For once, it was warm in the gal ery when she stripped off her coat.

Did you see that I had a brazier brought in? he cal ed to her.

Sure enough, a fat iron-wrought pot sat to the side, radiating heat.

Im trying to keep Eugenia warm. But then she decided not to join us.

Good, Harriet said rather absently. She had just realized that she had a blister on her right palm from practicing so long the previous night. It hurt to grasp the rapier.

Whats the matter? Jem said instantly.

Nothing, she said, gripping her weapon. En garde , sir.

He fel into position, that long muscled body such an elegant pleasure to look at that Harriet made herself turn her head.

Never turn your eyes from your opponent, he said sharply.

Obediently, she looked again. Il show you an envelopment today, he murmured. Watch me.

He held his rapier in his right hand, brought it up in a graceful looping arch, swung it around, slid it under, and lunged forward.

Again, she said, memorizing the way his arm came up, the way his other arm flew out in balance, keeping his body in perfect symmetry.

He did it again.

Like this? She tried it but knew something was wrong. Her arm went too high and then came down at a sharp angle.

Youre terrifyingly good at this, he remarked. I didnt get that far for hours when I first learned.

She didnt believe that, but her voice died in her throat. He was behind her again, reaching around her body to show her where to begin the motion, his long muscular arm lying against hers. She swal owed. His body touched hers, like a flash of fire, like a promise forgotten, and her whole body flamed in response.

Now you try, he said, coming in front of her again. He looked utterly unmoved. Wel , of course he did: he thought he was teaching Harry Cope how to fence! The thought steadied Harriet. At least Jem could have no idea how his touch made her tremble. It was a humiliating secretbut it was a secret.

She tried the move. Tried it again while his keen eyes watched her. He stopped her, showed her again, demonstrating what shed done wrong. After twenty minutes, shed forgotten that his touch made her heart race. She was too possessed by the idea of reproducing the exact movements he was showing her. And twenty minutes after thatshe had it.

Perfect! he said, his eyes smiling at her.

Just like that, her body turned liquid, longing, female. Everything about her felt female: soft, curved, luxurious.

What an odd expression you have on your face, he murmured. You dont mind if I pul off my shirt, do you, Harry? I seem to have become quite heated with al this exercise.

He had the kind of body that Harriet had only seen on laboring men. Not noblemen. Noblemen had slightly sagging physiques like Benjamin, the bodies of men who spent the evenings drinking copious amounts of brandy and playing chess.

Not Lord Strange.

Not Jem.

He looked as if he belonged in the golden light of a wheat field, swinging a scythe overhead. His chest looked powerful. Useful, as if a woman could throw herself there and

Useful? Was she losing her mind?

Harry? Jem asked with a look of concern. Are you al right? Let me see that hand.

He walked over and unfortunately the effect of his naked chest near hers sucked al the air out of her lungs and Harriet couldnt even protest as he uncurled her fingers. Al right, she had a blister. But who would have thought she would be so affected by a muscled male body?

The very thought made her face burn. If she didnt watch out, shed end up hanging over the rail and watching her own men scythe the fields. Like a hungry old maid.

Unless, a traitorous little voice in the back of her mind said, unless you This is quite a blister you have forming, Jem said. We need to wrap it up and keep it clean.

Yes, Id better go do that, she said with relief, skipping back a step. If she was losing her mind and turning into a bawdy widow out of a bal ad, she would prefer to do it in the privacy of her bedchamber.

No need, he said. He went out to the corridor and bawled Povy, water! Soap!

He wont hear you, Harriet said.

Of course he wil . You sit there and watch me while I show you the next move.

Watch him? It was like some sort of torture, but not torture that Harriet ever dreamed of. Whatever this emotion was, it wasnt one that belonged to Harriet. Plain, country Harriet didnt feel surges of longing that practical y brought her to her knees.

It was humiliating.

It was exhilarating.

Jem swung the rapier above his head like some sort of conquering warrior. She could see him in a Vikings leather breeches, scarred from many a fight on his longboat, his hair blowing in the ocean wind Her eyes were glazing over so she pul ed herself back to the move he was showing her. It was an impossibly dizzingly series of deft movements, darting forward and back.

Are you watching, Harry? he shouted at her. He raised those golden shoulders again, and Harriet slowly nodded her head. She was watching.

Want to try it yourself? he said, pausing.

No, she said, and her voice didnt even sound like her own voice. It sounded lethargic and sweet, like a trickle of honey.

His eyes narrowed and his mouth opened, but thankful y the door opened and Povy bustled in. A bowl of water, my lord, and dish of soap. May I enquire as to the injury?

Just a blister, Povy, Strange said. I can take care of it myself.

He was stil standing in the middle of the gal ery floor, looking as if he didnt even know that God had given him the kind of body that women dream of. Wel , not that Harriet had ever dreamed of a mans body, because she hadnt.

Shed dreamed of love . Of affection and kisses. Once shed married Benjamin, those dreams had clarified: shed started imagining a man who would look interested when she spoke to him, who would show concern if she were il , or sad, or just plain tired.

But she didnt think about the bed. Wel , perhaps only a little bit. If Benjamin won an important game, he was always happy and smiling, and general y he would come to her bed. They would make love, and then he would tel her the entire game, playing the moves out on her breasts as if she was a chess board. Sometimes they wouldnt even finish consummating the act before he started recounting his triumphs.

His development was slow, Benjamin would say, rearing over her with a little grunt. He couldnt find a good square for his Queens BishopgruntI made sure his bishop never got to Kings Knight Two. Grunt.

The memory made her feel a great deal cooler.