The Wicked Duke Takes a Wife

Chapter Thirty-three

Harriet rose two hours after Griffin slipped from her bed. She fetched several pitchers of cold water from below for a bracing hip bath and washed in preparation of another day waiting for Edlyn to be found unharmed, her uncle at her side.

Until then no one would be in a mood to celebrate.

It was the wrong time to announce a proposal and follow it with the usual kisses and congratulations. She was happy enough to wait for him to share their engagement with his aunt and let Lady P break the news. She could imagine her ladyship claiming she had arranged the match like a master chess player.

And perhaps she had. Harriet would not put it past the conniver, and she meant that as the highest form of tribute a girl who’d once lived to outwit others could give another. But it did seem that since she had gotten to know her ladyship, Harriet’s improbable romance with the duke had taken root. The old darling might not have dug the plant into the soil. But she’d made sure to water it and sprinkle encouragement its way.

She could only hope that Lady Powlis did not pry into the personal details of the duke’s covert moments of amour that had occurred behind the scenes of their rushed courtship. Harriet blushed at the memory of how incautiously she had abandoned herself to his persuasion. She ought to be ashamed for letting him lure her off the path of proper behavior. Still, as long as that path ended at the wedding altar, all would be well.

If only Edlyn were found.

She prayed that the name of the woman Edlyn had written about would give Sir Daniel a worthy lead to pursue. She dressed in the dark, shivering and not bothering with the fire. She could hear pots and pans banging below with the customary morning cheer.

Pots. Potter. Porter. Rosalyn Porter. Rosalie. Potted roses.

She tied a blue silk ribbon into the wayward hair twisted on her nape.

“Rosie Porter,” she said aloud, staring at her reflection. The duke thought she was beautiful. But today her face showed strain and-she blinked. Suddenly she was standing at a mirror in a green room as a gorgeous actress threw herself against the door. “It can’t be. It can’t be her.”

She spun around, startled, as her bedchamber door creaked open. “Good gracious, Harriet,” Lady Powlis said. “I have been tapping at your door for-”

“Oh, madam, do get out of the way for once.”

Lady Powlis gasped. “I beg your pardon.”

Harriet bobbed a belated curtsy, eyeing her employer like the kingpin in a street game of skittles. “And I’m sure I’ll be begging yours for the rest of our lives, but for the love of good St. George, if you don’t move your bum, I’m going-”

Lady Powlis planted herself across the doorway. “Duchess or not, you shall not knock me down.”

“It’s about Edlyn,” Harriet said urgently. “I know the woman who has taken her, and if you don’t understand what I’m talking about, I shall have to explain it later. The person in question was a player at the theater when I started out. Rosie Porter, she called herself, and the besom couldn’t act her way out of a chair.”

Lady Powlis leaned back against the door. “How long ago was this?”

“Five years or so. She left with a traveling troupe of players when the director told her she sang like a sick cow.”

“We had a troupe perform at the castle two years ago,” Lady Powlis said, paling at the realization. “Edlyn was enamored of the actress who played Queen Titania. I thought she was positively dreadful.”

“That’d be Rosie,” Harriet said.

“She must have been in contact with Edlyn all this time,” Lady Powlis said in a faint voice. “I never thought to ask about her letters. I thought corresponding was good for her.” She shook her head in horror. “The entire time we were arranging to come to London, that woman was making plans to abduct my niece.”

Harriet slipped on a pair of sturdy half boots. “I think the first thing to do is ask at the theater.”

“No,” Lady Powlis said quickly. “I am afraid to be alone. You can’t go, Harriet. What if the kidnappers come back for me, too? To double the ransom they’re asking. They might be watching the house to see when I’m left alone.”

Harriet wavered. It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that dragging Lady Powlis anywhere against her will was liable to attract the attention of every spy, soldier, Horse Guard, Bow Street Runner, and concerned citizen in the metropolis. But fear was a powerful force, and Harriet would not be responsible for anything that might happen if she left.

“I have to get word to Sir Daniel. That’s the important thing. He has to know where to look. We shall have to send Trenton to Lord Heath’s, Raskin after Sir Daniel, and the coachman to Lord Drake’s for good measure.”

“Won’t that leave us rather unguarded?” Lady Powlis asked hesitantly.

“Madam, you have me to defend you. And Butler.”

“Oh, dear.”

This was hardly the time for Harriet to expound upon her past career, so she curbed herself and said, “Think calmly. What are the chances that a criminal is going to break in to this house before the duke comes home?”

Lady Powlis looked unpersuaded. “I’d feel better if we brought Griffin’s brace of pistols to the drawing room while we wait.”

“Fine, madam. If that gives you comfort.”

“Oh, I have a pistol in my reticule, too. Fetch it for me, dear, with my cashmere shawl.”

“Yes, madam.”

Lady Powlis put her hand over Harriet’s. “While this is not the moment of happy celebration I have dreamed of, let me offer my congratulations. It was obvious to me that you and Griffin had fallen in love.”

Harriet paused. “You wouldn’t have given his grace a little nudge in my direction?”

“Of course I would. I told you that I’d do anything to make sure he didn’t marry the wrong woman.”

Which wasn’t exactly the same thing as being reassured that she was the right woman to become duchess. Still, Harriet decided it was good enough. And with any luck, she and her future aunt-in-law would celebrate the impending nuptials over a glass or two of sherry without firing a shot.