In truth, they felt like a dream she had almost given up on. A woman could lose herself in all the hope that sparked in each one.
If her mother were still here, they could gossip about Leeds over a pot of tea. Mama had always given the best advice.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar, rather grating voice interrupted her walk. “What do we have here? A little lamb, it seems.”
Harriet turned to the voice and was confronted with the detestable face of none other than Cromby. She inwardly cursed her luck.
“My lord,” she greeted before turning away and continuing on her walk. She refused to entertain this man. Hadn’t Leedsmade it clear at the ball? The fact that he still had the nerve to stop her in the street in broad daylight vexed Harriet to no end.
He blocked her path in a few strides “Running off so soon?”
What was the lout’s problem? “My husband is waiting for me,” Harriet said calmly. “If you will excuse me.”
He didn’t move. “Quite the champion you have in Leeds.”
“He is an honorable man.”
“Is he really?”
Harriet stilled. “Whatever do you mean?”
“It’s not my place to say. However, he did make quite a fortune from your union, did he not?”
Hah! And you thank I shall lend my ear to you poisonous mouth?“Well, of course. I had a significant dowry, my lord.”
Cromby frowned. “It’s not your dowry of which I speak.”
“Surely you don’t mean the wagers in your notorious betting book.”
“Ghastly affair, that,” Cromby said, and Harriet had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. “Still, I have to hand it to Leeds—he is quite the accomplished man. Thefirstto cash in on the heiresses.”
Harriet gave him a fixed stare. Did he truly believe he could cast doubt in her mind? Leeds had already told her—and told Graves when he’d also asked—that he hadn’t placed wagers. She had seen the betting book at Ophelia’s, and she hadn’t glimpsed anything that would prove otherwise. Granted, the bold penmanship on the pages was hard to read and sometimes cryptic, but she didn’t need to dissect each one to know she wouldn’t find Leeds’s name there.
She believed her husband.
Trustedhim.
Her lips pressed into a flat line. “You, on the other hand, my lord, are the vilest of cockroaches, taking advantage of innocentladies. How many more women have you forced your attentions on?”
His face turned red. “How dare you insult me, you little—”
“Oh, I dare.” She cut him off. “And I dare to further say if you ever approach me again, you shall regret it for the rest of your days!”
His face darkened. “You think you can threaten me without any consequence?”
“I think you are a man without consequence, and soon the whole world shall know about it.”
He took a threatening step toward her.
“Cromby.” A hard, authoritative voice warned.
Harriet spun around. A man stood behind her, one neither of them had heard approach. He was tall, taller than even Leeds, and bore a cold countenance that made even Harriet want to straighten her back more. Atruemarble statue.
This was the Duke of . . .
“Mortimer,” Cromby greeted, a tense edge to his voice.
Mortimer arched a brow.
