She gripped his forearm, her reticule banging against his elbow. He couldn’t imagine what she was carrying-the Crown jewels, perhaps-but whatever it was clunked between them like a ball and chain as they strolled toward the water.

“That is Lord Bermond in the caped coat,” she said. “Invite him to go shooting. The woman holding the parasol is his mistress. Pretend she is invisible. And-” She frowned in displeasure. “Never mind. After we attend a soirée or two, you will forget your primeval village and let our civilized ways guide you onto a higher path.”

“But I’m somewhat primeval myself.”

“That is the unfortunate reputation that precedes you,” she murmured.

His eyes darkened.

She would have been wise to take notice. But she did not.

Harriet had no opportunity to venture an opinion of the graceful woman walking at the duke’s side. It would have been improper to use the words that came to mind. Moreover, Lady Powlis conveyed their mutual disapproval in an eloquent if profane outburst that rendered Harriet’s appraisal superfluous. She merely nodded at her ladyship’s spate of insults. After all, she was paid to be an agreeable companion.

“Why do you not like her, madam?” she asked when she could slip a word in edgewise.

Lady Powlis swung her cane in the air like a master swordsman. “There is not a sincere bone in her body.”

“But those bones are put together in a manner that his grace seems to find engrossing.”

The sword swung toward Harriet. “Save the sauce for another goose. You know perfectly well that what I say is true.”

“Quite so,” Harriet said, trying to anticipate at which point of the compass the cane would next aim.

Lady Powlis’s voice broke unexpectedly. “It’s all wrong. And it is all my fault. I have pushed him into that conceited vixen’s arms. I have used guilt and sorrow to encourage this match. I-” She paused, pale and out of breath.

Harriet glanced around the park in concern. She spotted Edlyn standing in the midst of what appeared to be a small assembly of governesses and their energetic charges. A cocker spaniel ran barking around a tree. “Shall we find a bench for you to rest?”

“I don’t need rest. I need to find a wife who will care for him and Edlyn.”

“And who cares for you, madam.”

Lady Powlis suddenly looked deflated. “That is why I hired you, my girl.”

Harriet shook her head. “Then, in all fairness, I will tell you again that the complaint lodged against me today is only the start of it. You would not be ill-advised to dismiss me.”

“I pay you to agree with me, ill-advised or not.”

“Yes, madam.” Harriet’s gaze drifted to the duke and the elegant lady guiding him toward a group of ladies and gentlemen who seemed eager to make his acquaintance. “She’s beautiful.”

“Beauty fades.”

“She’s an heiress.”

“Wealth corrupts.”

“His grace doesn’t appear to mind whether she fades away or corrupts him.”

She sighed as the duke broke away from the gathering. Lady Constance hesitated and then hurried after him. Suddenly Harriet resented the Boscastles for introducing her to a world in which she would always be an outsider, the design of a modern Prometheus who would meet a tragic fate only because she wanted a mate. She sighed in self-pity. She was really a little monster. Lady Constance had skin the color of moonlight. Harriet’s blushed and went blotchy at every emotion. She could never float about with a fox on her head without looking like a court jester. She had never taken a stand against cesspits. She had, however, once pushed a boy who was chasing her into one.

Lady Powlis’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I would do anything to stop this courtship, do you hear? I cannot bear another broken heart in my family. We must put an end to this no matter what it takes.”

Harriet felt a breeze quiver through the air at the duke’s approach. Lady Constance called back to one of the footmen to fetch her rabbit muff from the carriage. As the servant turned, a gray stillness enshrouded the park. The duke looked directly at Harriet. The unconcealed desire in his eyes tore through her like lightning.

She caught her breath. The clouds burst forth with such a sudden drenching rain that a malevolent wizard might have dumped a cauldron of bad wishes upon the gathering. Griffin glanced up with a deep laugh. The ladies around him shrieked, running for shelter, while the gentlemen complained about ruined attire and another afternoon better spent at the club.

“Look at her now,” Lady Powlis whispered over Harriet’s shoulder. “Her ringlets are dissolving in the rain.”

“Perhaps she’ll melt,” Edlyn said, her lip curling.

Harriet turned in surprise, hard-pressed to constrain a laugh. “That isn’t nice of you, Miss Edlyn. Ill thoughts against another are not to be spoken aloud.”

Edlyn smiled wickedly. Harriet felt a rush of bittersweet satisfaction and smiled back. An unbreakable bond, an unexpected one, had been formed.

Lady Constance cast the duke a furious look and ran for the carriage. He watched her for a moment, then strode toward the three women huddled together in the rain. “Are you all mad, my little ducks? Must I gather you under my wing?”

Harriet started to laugh.

He pulled off his coat, threw it over Edlyn’s head, offered one arm to Primrose, the other to Harriet.

There was grace, after all.

The four of them dashed for the carriage as one. The footmen met them halfway. Harriet laughed again, staring down at her muddy flat-heeled slippers.

She couldn’t imagine anything more fun than this, not even a midnight ball. It made up for the misery that she had been dealt earlier in the day.

And then a cry of unadulterated terror immobilzed her, indeed, everyone within earshot, to the spot. She looked up through the rain as a scruffy young man darted from behind a tree. A knife glimmered in his hand and flashed up toward the woman standing in front of him. Lady Constance went a deathly shade of white. The servant who was holding an umbrella over her head backed away.

“Oh, no,” Harriet whispered, swallowing hard. “Not again. Not now. Don’t do it.”

The young man was quick on his feet. Quicker than lightning. He ought to be. He had taught Harriet how to cut a purse. He shook his fist under Lady Constance’s chin with one hand. The other efficiently severed the strings of her reticule from her limp grasp.

Quicker than lightning, Harriet thought, although not quicker than she or the duke. They broke into a run at the same instant and intersected when Griffin turned abruptly to impede her progress, throwing her a look of unhidden disgust.

“For the love of God, Harriet. What do you think you are doing? You’re only slowing me down. I’m more than capable of taking care of a little bastard like that.”

“So am I,” she said, rain washing down her neck in cold rivulets.

“You damned fool,” he muttered. “I’ve lost him now because of you. What am I supposed to do?”

She stood before him with the calm acceptance of what could never be changed. “Go back to Lady Constance and comfort her. That was one of my half brothers who stole her bag. I’ll get it back, don’t you worry.”

“Your brother, Harriet?” he said in disbelief.

“You know what I was. Now you know what I could have been. Frightening, isn’t it?”

She walked around him.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he shouted at her.

“I’m going ’ome.” She took off her slippers, one at a time, and tossed them at him over her shoulders. They didn’t match her dress, anyway. “Take care of your family, duke. And yourself. You’re not as bad as everyone thinks.”