Page 2 of Indecently Daring

The lady rolled her eyes. “Nonsense. St Clair will make a weekly contribution of whatever is in season from the home farm, naturally, but we shall need a cook and a place for her to do so. I’m not finding you the perfect housekeeper only to have her leave a day later when she realises her kitchen is invaded every morning to prepare the school dinners. So we must create a kitchen and storeroom.”

“There are the stables,” Harry said, ignoring the stab of disappointment in the vicinity of his heart.

The countess gave him a sharp look. “No, that won’t do. You really ought to have a horse, you know. St Clair would lend you one until you have the time to arrange your own. I’m sure I’ve offered you the pick of the stables three times now. But anyway, I shall come and visit tomorrow, and we shall put our heads together.”

“Very good, my lady,” Harry said, hoping she would drop the subject now.

“Why don’t you have a horse?” Intelligent brown eyes, enlarged by the thickness of her spectacles, bore into him. “From what I hear, you were an exceptional horseman. And didn’t you have some magnificent animal that everyone was so impressed by? A black stallion, wasn’t it? What was his name now? Prince, no that wasn’t it. Ah, yes… Pirate. That was it, I think? I remember St Clair waxing lyrical about the animal. Finest horse he ever saw, apparently.”

Harry flinched inwardly as the name of his old friend made his chest ache with regret. He swallowed hard and nodded, telling himself not to be so foolish, not to keep dwelling in the past, for no good could come of it.

“And yet a man with such a reputation for horsemanship, who owned such an animal, goes everywhere on foot? What has happened? Is the living not sufficient to—”

“Oh, yes, my lady,” Harry said quickly, appalled that she or the earl could think him the least bit dissatisfied with his lot when they had been so astonishingly generous. Far more than he deserved or was worthy of, though he intended to be worthy, no matter how long it took. “It is more than ample.”

“Then is it a form of martyrdom?”

Lady St Clair’s keen eyes narrowed, and Harry felt his neck grow hot. Before he could stammer out a reply, a knock came at the door. Harry let out a sigh of relief and sent another thank you heavenwards.

A butler appeared and carried a silver salver to the countess. She took the letter laid upon it, opened it deftly with a pretty mother-of-pearl knife, then scanned the letter and smiled.

“Marvellous!” she said, setting the letter down and dismissing the butler with her thanks. “Well, it seems we shall have more help with our fundraising efforts. I don’t think I mentioned before, but my niece, Miss Alana Cadogan, and her friend Lady Catherine Barrington, are arriving this afternoon. They’ll be staying until we go to town for the season, and that letter informs me we have more guests who I am certain will be eager to help, but you know that already, I suppose?”

She looked expectantly at Harry. He stared back, at a loss.

“Your aunt,” Lady St Clair said, frowning at him. “Mrs Dankworth.”

“Er….” Harry replied with an impending sense of doom.

“Well, she said she had written to tell you she was coming?”

“Coming?” he repeated in horror. “Here?”

Harry's heart plummeted as the countess nodded. And the morning had been going so well.

“Yes, with Lady Beauchamp.”

Somehow, Harry refrained from groaning and putting his head in his hands and instead affixed a polite smile to his face. “I see. I must have missed the letter.”

“Because you need a housekeeper,” the countess said, throwing up her hands. “Well, in any case, they are due to arrive tomorrow. They’re staying here, naturally. So with them and the young ladies, we shall be in fine form to take on the world. Alana has energy enough for three people. A pity her mama could not come, but then Bonnie Cadogan and Cora and Dorcas together might be a little too much. We want to take on the world, not blow it up.”

The lady gave an amused snort of laughter and then caught the horrified look on Harry’s face.

“Oh, really, Harry,” she said, lapsing into informality as she did with him sometimes because she remembered him as a friend of her son, Cassius, the two of them running wild about Holbrook like grubby little savages. She tried very hard to treat him respectfully, as was due to his position, but now and then she lapsed and scolded him like she would her own son, even though they were both grown men. “I admit my brother-in-law’s branch of the Cadogan family can be a little overwhelming, but they’re certainly no worse than Cora and Dorcas, and you handle them well enough. I promise you my niece is a delightful young lady.”

“Handle them?” he repeated, appalled. “You don’t handle my aunt and Lady Beauchamp, you just run for cover and hope the devastation isn’t too far-reaching.”

“And you a Christian, Harry,” she said reproachfully. “They’re full of fun and merry as grigs.”

“They’re wicked old women who love to cause mischief,” he retorted, which was a bit strong but, really, they were frightful creatures who never failed to cause a ruckus wherever they went.

“Well, that too,” she admitted, her eyes twinkling merrily. “But dreadfully entertaining.”

“Dreadfully,” he echoed darkly, and wondered just how awful it would be.

Chapter 2

Dearest Fred,