She seated herself in the chair at the table, folding her limbs as gracefully as the sticks of a fan, as she had been taught at the academy. In the old days she’d have attacked her plate like a farmhand. But now she forced herself to take delicate nibbles here and there.

He turned to the window with a troubled frown. Harriet placed her toast back on the plate. She glanced at his desk, suddenly noticing the papers scattered everywhere, some even strewn across the floor, as if he’d thrown them in a temper.

“I think you had better tell me what the matter is,” she said, biting her lip.

He shook his head. “Finish that toast. I haven’t seen a lady eat a decent meal since I arrived in London. Perhaps I scare their appetites away.” Entirely possible.

She took a delicate sip of tea, sighing in pleasure. There was nothing like a strong brew to start the day.

Except for a duke’s kiss.

“What happened to your desk, or shouldn’t I ask?”

He pivoted. “My secretary quit last night.”

“I wonder why,” she said without thinking. “But you don’t-you don’t expect me to-”

“-take his place? Absolutely not. My aunt would never share you. I’m surprised she hasn’t shouted the roof down to find you.”

“We went to bed late last night,” she reminded him. “It was light when I fell asleep.”

“Well, while we slept, the devil’s printshops were hard at work. You have not read the morning papers?”

“I didn’t even have time to do my hair.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “I should have ordered a brush and ribbon to go with breakfast.”

She vented a sigh. “You aren’t going to dismiss me?”

“Why should I?”

“Last night… well…”

“Do you think that was your fault?” His frown deepened. “As to dismissing you, I would not risk my aunt’s wrath. You may, however, wish to leave of your own volition after I explain what is being said about me.” He paused. “About us.”

Silence fell. Harriet felt a little ashamed she’d been so preoccupied with her own assumptions that she hadn’t considered he might have had a good reason to summon her.

“I know what has been said of you, your grace. I’ve been accused of worse.”

“Do you know what is being said now?”

She shook her head. He sounded so grim she decided she might be better left in the dark.

“We have been accused of conducting a liaison.”

“Oh.” She almost laughed in relief. “Is that all?”

He looked at her in frustration. “It would be appropriate on your part to burst into tears and accuse me of damaging whatever good reputation you have worked to achieve.”

“Lady Powlis will murder me,” she said suddenly.

“No,” he corrected. “She will murder me.”

“But it’s all absurd,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s a lie; you and I-”

She didn’t finish. The dark glance he sent her seemed to be fraught with a message she was afraid to interpret.

“Is it really that absurd?” he asked.

She came slowly to her feet. “It is, unless you’re offering me a position as your mistress.”

He gave her a fierce look. “I’m offering you the chance to escape before it comes to that.” He half turned. “Your door does not have a lock.”

“How did you-” She saw the faint smile that tightened his face. “What if her ladyship reads the scandal sheets?”

“Undoubtedly she will.”

Harriet stared absently at the letters scattered around his desk. “Will she believe them?”

“She did not believe I murdered Liam when the court of public opinion accused me. This, however, is another matter. There is an element of truth to it.”

“Then I must be as guilty as you are,” she said under her breath. His head lifted.

“Go,” he said in a controlled voice. “And do not give any person who questions you about this scandal the satisfaction of a reply.”

“Yes, your grace.”

She turned in hesitation, torn between what he ordered her to do and what her heart told her he really meant. “May I say one more thing?” she asked, hurrying on before he answered. “Words can’t hurt you unless you let them. I’d have shriveled up into dust years ago if I had believed what my own father said about me.”

He shook his head. “I don’t give a damn what I am accused of being. I’m perfectly able to defend myself. But when my name is used as a weapon against those I care for, it is a different thing altogether.”

“I think I understand.” She stepped back, resisting the temptation to tidy the room before she left. It was unsettling to leave him in such a mess, even if it was of his own doing.

“Harriet…”

“Your grace?”

“For the love of God, do something about your hair.”

Her hair. Griffin released his breath as she left the room. No other lady’s companion could have brought the fortune Harriet would command on the market as a courtesan. She looked for all the world like the Irish Princess Isolde of the pure healing hands and secret passions. Would she heed his warning? Had he given her fair notice of his intentions? He believed he had. He’d done his best to explain himself. She claimed to understand, but if she understood the strength of his desires, she would not be so brave in his presence.

He glanced around the room, smiling unwillingly at the image of Harriet feigning an attack of the vapors. She’d had him half convinced as he lowered her to the sofa that he had sent her into a swoon.

She might indeed have been a duchess for how well she pretended indisposition. Only the mischief in her eyes had betrayed her.

His gaze lit upon the drawstring pouch that sat amid the disarranged papers on the desk. He had discovered it on the carriage floor the night he had brought her home from St. Giles. He’d meant to give it to her, although the strand of false pearls within seemed hardly worth the bother. Perhaps the necklace held some personal value, a gift from an early admirer. The cheap paste used to coat the glass beads had crumbled off in his fingers. In truth, he had felt so insulted on her behalf that he remained uncertain whether he would return the tawdry bauble to her at all or replace it with something more befitting her importance in his life.

Chapter Twenty-one

Lady Powlis had read the morning papers and was not pleased. Whether she blamed Harriet or her nephew or the gossip reporters for the rumors of their liaison, she did not immediately articulate. She did manage, however, to exile to the basement every servant who crossed her path, for some imagined misdeed.

By late afternoon she had dismissed her companion so many times that Harriet finally threw up her hands and said, “Don’t trouble yourself. I’m already leaving.”

“You shall not leave this house, Miss Gardner.”

“I wouldn’t stay for all the tea in China.”

She wheeled, snatching her cloak from the hall-stand, and walked into the tall figure coming through the front door. Wisely, the duke had been gone all day, leaving Harriet to bear the brunt of his aunt’s distress. His black hair was ruffled from what must have been a hard ride.

“I’ve been knocking for ages. Where is Butler? The footmen? What has happened now?”

“Ask her ladyship,” Harriet said, flinging her cloak around her shoulders.

Lady Powlis scowled up at him. “Miss Gardner is threatening to leave me. What do you have to say about that?”

“I say it’s a blessed miracle she has lasted this long.”

“I’d dismiss you, too, if I could,” his aunt fired back at him.

“Go ahead,” he said, tossing his gloves at her feet like a gauntlet. “I’m fed up with you bellowing like a sailor night and day.”

“How dare you, you… wicked duke.”

He folded his arms in disgust. “You aren’t telling me you actually believe what you read?”