XIII
HARRY stared sorrily at the slammed door. He should've kissed her. He should've let his hand roam free and do what it liked. After all, Miss Redwood had been the one to start it. Would it really be wrong to finish?
No, his self-restraint chided. He could not have touched her further. He was right to stop it. Who would Harry be if the current rumors about him were true?
A knock sounded on his door, cutting his thoughts short. Harry half-hoped it was Penelope. "Come in." Reginald entered.
"I've just received a message from Fleurs Castle, Sir. The Countess of Au Printemps is requesting an audience."
"I suppose she can see her daughter for fifteen minutes."
"She doesn't want to see Miss Redwood, Sir. She wants an audience with you."
Shit. "Why?" Harry asked, even though they both knew the answer.
"It doesn't say."
Mamas ranked second to spoiled ladies on his list of people he despised. Still, Harry didn't think she would refuse her. She'd complain to the papers. "Alright, then. I accept."
"Sir."
Harry uncorked his decanter and poured brandy into his glass. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
The Countess arrived at twelve o'clock sharp the following morning. Harry instructed his cook to prepare a nice spread, even though he knew they wouldn't eat it. The Countess entered the drawing room with the meanest scowl Harry had ever seen. "Lady Redwood," he greeted politely with a sharp bow.
"Lord Hawthorne." Her voice was cold and clipped.
He sat, and gestured for his guest to do the same. A maid began pouring the countess a cup of tea. "No, thank you," Lady Redwood said. She curtsied before leaving them. Lady Redwood did not say anything, she only stared. They could both hear the tick of the clock. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I'd like you to release my daughter from her post."
"If you would like to persuade your daughter of something, I'd be happy to give the two of you an audience."
"I did not come here to see her. I came to see you."
"Lady Redwood..." He paused. "I cannot help you."
"I'll give you one hundred thousand pounds."
"It's not about money."
Lady Redwood flinched. "You can find other women, Sir."
Harry felt himself grow hot. "I know you might not believe me but, contrary to popular opinion, I am not involved with your daughter."
Lady Redwood released a pained chuckle. "Spare me."
"It's the truth."
"I am not an idiot. Even when you do not consider what you are, you are still a red-blooded man. And my daughter is a beautiful woman. I know the two of you are involved."
Harry bristled at the implication. "I am sorry you do not believe me."
The countess' fingernails were pressed into her palms. "I know that you do not...that you might not care for my daughter's reputation the same way a mother would. But I cannot understand how you can see what they are saying about her and continue this way."
"I am not the one doing anything to her."
"You are ruining her life." Motherly despair seeped from her words. "Please. Please just let her go."
"There is nothing I can do for you."
Lady Redwood glared at him with brazen contempt. "I will never forgive you for this."
"I can't imagine that you would."
"And I'll see that you pay."
Harry was very familiar with the woes of motherly revenge. "I'm sure you will."
Lady Redwood rose and Harry did too. "Goodbye, Lord Hawthorne."
Harry rang for Reginald once she was gone.
"Yes, Sir?"
"Can you give me the latest gossip column for this week? Actually, can I have all the columns that mention Miss Redwood once she started her service?"
Reginald returned with a sizable leaflet of papers and Harry sat and read them all. Harry had never felt more than impotent irritation reading the gossip columns. But he had never read about them unfairly slighting someone else. Now, his vision was spotted with blackness. A couple of weeks ago, he wouldn't have batted an eye at ruining a gentile lady who'd chosen this life for herself. Society had no respect for him, why should he have any respect for it? However, Penelope wasn't just the countess' daughter anymore. She was something more. He rang for his valet next.
"You called, Sir."
Harry held up the paper. "I need to find the author of these wretched gossip columns. Now."
***
THE last thing Penelope expected to see while she was dusting a picture was her mother. But, there she was, walking down the hall from the drawing room. Penelope froze. The countess turned around and met eyes with her daughter before shaking her head and going on her way.
"Why are you here?" Penelope asked.
"Why do you think?"
"Did you really come to see me?"
"No, dear." Her voice was frigid
Penelope's heart sank. "So you came to see him."
"I did."
"Well." Penelope did not need to say what they already knew. Obviously the countess tried to convince the Earl to let her go. "What did he say?"
"He said he could not help me."
Penelope was ashamed to feel so relieved. "He is not the man you think he is, Mother."
Diana's lips split into a pained grimace. "I'm sure."
Penelope took a desperate step forward. "I know what the papers are saying. I know what the duchess is saying and what Solomon is saying but Mother..." Penelope's teeth clamped on her bottom lip. "It isn't true."
Diana's eyes narrowed. She looked insulted. "Darling, please."
"I'm telling the truth. I would never take a post to live with my lover. I'm not stupid."
"Of course you aren't." Sarcasm dripped from her every word.
"I understand that sounds slightly less ridiculous than what I'm doing now."
"Only slightly?"
"Mother, please."
"Penelope..." Her mother's face was clouded with grief. Penelope's heart ached. "End this charade. Come home."
Penelope bit her lip harder. She wished her decision did not have to cause her mother so much pain. "You know I cannot."
"I hope he is worth it, my dear," Diana whispered. Then, she was gone.
Penelope continued to dust the picture.
***
"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" Mrs. Thomas cooed. Her fingers affectionately raked through her terrier's fur. Teddy barked in approval. She took a sip of her tea, with one hand still on Teddy's head, and turned her attention to the newspaper. Mrs. Thomas smiled. She loved to admire her handiwork. Just then, a brisk knock sounded on the door. Terry leapt from her lap and ran toward the door, patting his paws against the wood. Mrs. Thomas frowned. She hadn't been expecting visitors. She slowly rose from her chair, and wobbled to the front of the door. Without looking through the peephole, she opened it. Mrs. Thomas regretted it the next second. She recognized her visitor instantly.
"My lord," she whispered.
The Devil smiled coldly back at her. "Mrs. Susan Thomas?"
"Yes."
"Won't you invite me in?"
A cold sweat gathered at Susan's nape. She thought about her dead husband and her daughter who lived miles and miles away. How long would it take before someone noticed something had happened to her? She could be dead for days, and no one would be the wiser. Suddenly, Mrs. Thomas wanted to cry. Her eldest grandchild was a wee thing, and her daughter was pregnant with her second. She would never get to hold or kiss them again.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Lord Hawthorne said. His voice was soft but firm.
Fat chance, Susan thought. She stared at him silently, weighing her options. The invitation was just dressing, they both knew it. If he wanted to push past her, he would. Maybe, if she was nice and apologetic enough, she could come out of this unscathed. Susan made herself smile. "It's a pleasure, my lord." She opened the door wider. "Do come in."
The Earl entered, and Susan slowly followed him. Her legs were jelly. "I have some tea made. Would you like some?"
"No, thank you. This won't take long."
Susan went cold. Tears filled her eyes. "Please, my lord," she sobbed. "Please. I have a family. Grandchildren. Don't do this. I'm begging you."
Lord Hawthorne glared at her. "I'm not here to hurt you, Mrs. Thomas. I'm only here to talk."
"I'm sorry I wrote those articles about you. I won't print anything in my column about you again."
"I don't care what you write about me. However, I think we can all agree that I've been very forgiving." His eyes were hard. "You've written all sorts of rubbish about me, and I haven't done a thing about it."
"I'm sorry. I won't print another word. I swear."
"Like I said, I don't care what you say about me." His fists tightened. "But what you've written about Miss Redwood is unforgivable."
Susan sniffed. He was here on behalf of his whore? "Sir?"
"The language you used to describe her behavior is despicable. Almost every single word you've written about her is untrue."
"I'm very sorry."
"You're going to promise not to print another negative thing about her. You're going to issue a new column saying that you received false information about her position as my mistress. And, you're going to apologize for everything that you've said regarding Miss Redwood."
Susan was silent. She was too surprised to speak.
"Are we clear, Mrs. Thomas?"
"Is that all you require, my lord?"
"Yes," he replied crisply.
"I just thought—"
"---do I need to get to the part where I tell you what I'll do if we don't have an agreement?" Susan nodded in the negative. "I need to hear you say it."
"I don't need to hear what you'll do if I don't obey you."
"And?"
"I won't write anything else that sullies Miss Redwood's reputation. I'll also write an apology about the lies that I've printed in my paper."
"Good." Teddy scampered over to the Earl's feet. Susan's heart clenched. Lord Hawthorne gave the dog a smile before bending down and stroking him behind the ears. After a few minutes, he rose. "I'll leave you to it, then."
Susan bolted the door once he was gone.
***
Harry did not arrive at Hawthorne until well after dark. He summoned Miss Redwood into his study as soon as he arrived. Once she entered, he gathered that he caught her after she'd bathed. Her hair was wet, and the air was sweet with lily and lavender. Before he could stop himself, an image of his housekeeper soaking and scrubbing assaulted him. A naughty current of heat swirled in his loins.
Penelope stared at him impatiently, oblivious to it. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"
"Yes." Harry cleared his throat. "I don't know if you've seen what the gossip columns have printed about us."
Penelope shrugged. "I've had a look. They're not pretty."
"No, they're not." He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Miss Redwood."
She softened at the earnest in his voice. "It's not your fault."
"Yes, it is. If I never hired you, your reputation would've been intact."
"We couldn't have predicted that people would think we were lovers," Miss Redwood said.
"I should've known."
"Then, I should've known too." There was a heartbeat of silence. "I chose to work here."
"And I chose to hire you." Harry paused, he dreaded saying these next words. "It's time that I rectify that mistake."
"Sir?"
"I know that I've already tarnished your reputation, so I took the liberty of obtaining some alternatives. There's a family twenty miles south of here that will have you as a governess if you want it. If you're looking to buy time before getting married I know a fellow—"
"---Are you firing me?" Penelope interrupted. Her voice was shrill.
"I cannot ruin you further. I'm sorry." Penelope was silent. She looked like she wanted to kill him. "I can give you two weeks, of course, to get settled and figure out your options. I'll also be sure to include a generous—"
"--I am not leaving."
"You don't have to leave right away."
"I don't accept it."
Harry felt himself feeling annoyed. He told himself that he had to be understanding. "I'm sorry that you feel angry and confused."
"And I'm sorry that you think that you can terminate my decision. You won't be able to hire anyone after me, anyway. And, I refuse to leave."
"You cannot refuse to leave, Miss Redwood."
"Watch me." Then, his housekeeper dipped in a curtsy. "Goodnight, Sir."
"You cannot leave." His irritation was now plain. "We haven't finished."
"I have," she said primly.
"Do not leave this room."
"Or what?" she raised a brow. "Will you have me thrown in the street tonight?"
"I would never have you thrown in the street," he snapped.
"Thank God, for your self-righteousness," she said drily.
"I'm not doing this to be self-righteous."
"Of course not."
"I'm doing it to protect you!"
"I don't need your protection!"
They glared at each other. "It's for your own good," Harry added.
"I'll decide what's best for me, thank you."
"In two weeks Miss Redwood, you'll be gone."
Penelope looked him over with cold, exacting eyes. "We'll see."