Harriet’s expression returned to that of concern. “Now I know something is wrong. Bond Street is your second home. Are you sure it’s just fright from the alligator?”
“No, it’s the fright from everything. Heart. Dare.Calstone. I still don’t understand whyhewas in the boat.”
Harriet laughed. “Oh, do not fret about him. If that man even catches a whiff of drama—which is to sayentertainment—he would jump into the Thames to swim after it.”
Leonora had to agree, given what she’d seen of him so far. Not that shereallycared. But the duke seemed to be a safe, effortless topic for the moment. “Which then makeshimthe entertainment.” He would love the irony of that, she was sure.
“How right you are! As for your brother, it’s only natural he’d be concerned after the bird fiasco.”
“I wouldn’t call it a fiasco.” Call it a masterpiece.
“No? Well, I suppose it was just another pet gone wild,” Harriet suggested. “However, the papers turned it into one with their headlines. Any family would be concerned.”
Family . . .
Leonora rubbed her eyes as an older, still delicate face swam within the edges of her memories. Big blue eyes. A slender, heart-shaped face. A look of uncertainty that reached straight into her heart like a vise andgripped.
Who was that woman to her?
Her real mother?
Someone else?
Leonora didn’t have enough of the scattered pieces to make a confident assumption, but judging from Heart’s reaction, theduchess was most certainly something. At least to him, if not Leonora.
As if Harriet could read her thoughts, she suddenly exclaimed, “Oh! And why didn’t you tell me you knewtheduchess?”
Leonora blinked. “That’s because I don’t. You heard her; she hadn’t been introduced to anyone.”
“Then why was she staring at you all concerned?”
“Because I am a fellow lady who got tossed in the lake?”
Harriet arched a brow that seemed to say:Are you sure?
“Honestly,” Leonora said, infusing meaning into her tone. “Today was the first time I met her. And why are you so intrigued bytheduchess?”
Harriet leaned back onto her elbow. “Well, I heard the duke was a nasty man. Everyone is talking about it.”
“The late duke?”
Harriet nodded. “He had scores of mistresses and bastard children scattered all over England. I feel so sorry for those poor children. And all the women of course.”
Leonora grimaced. “How unfortunate.” Though not unheard of. She couldn’t imagine still wearing black if she had a husband such as that. “Tell me, Harriet, would you feel sorry for me if I were a bastard child?”
“What are you talking about?” Harriet said, her brows drawing together. “I suppose I would. Then again, you are so strong, you wouldn’t need my pity.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Leonora drawled playfully. “I wouldn’t be a true lady.”
Harriet snorted. “So? There are several times a day I’m not either.”
Leonora grinned at that. “I would be ofquestionablebirth.”
Harriet gave her a flat look. “The way thetontiptoes around the delicate topic of pregnancy, all births should be considered questionable.”
Leonora laughed. “I’d still be a pariah.”
“Well, at least you would be an authentic one.”
