Page 53 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
Matthew handed him his calling card and said he was here to see Miss Harriet Cherrington. He was taken to the drawing room, where he waited only a few moments before Harriet and two other ladies entered the room.
“Your Grace.” Harriet smiled brightly. “It is wonderful to see you again. I’d like you to meet my sisters, Mary and Frances.”
They exchanged bows and pleasantries, sat on the assorted furniture, and Harriet rang for tea. When it arrived, she poured it with a steady hand, not spilling a drop, and then added the perfect amount of cream for his taste, all the while keeping up a lively conversation about the differences between Cumbria and London, of which there were many. She had been to Northumberland and knew the area near his country house, but she was interested in learning more about Nottinghamshire. He told her about the county and about Hanford Castle, and she said that Crestmont Manor sounded far more comfortable and modern. Not surprising. Then, she’d smiled and asked him if he knew the Sheriff of Nottingham.
“I do,” he said, “but I can assure you, he’s nothing like the sheriff of lore.”
“That’s a relief,” she said with a smile.
“However, there are no Robin Hoods nearby stealing from the rich, either. I couldn’t tell you what the sheriff might do if there were.”
“Prosecute them, of course!” Mary exclaimed.
“Why?” asked Harriet.
“The Lord commands that thou shall not steal. Corinthians tells us, ‘nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners shall inherit the kingdom of God.’ So of course he should prosecute. To the fullest extent of the law.” Mary sniffed.
“Even if they are just stealing back what has already been stolen?” Harriet asked.
“Stealing is stealing,” Mary said primly.
Harriet and Matthew exchanged a small smile, then he turned it to Mary and said mildly, “Indeed.”
Miss Harriet Cherrington was much more lively and interesting than her sisters. Frances barely spoke and looked at everything and everyone in the room as if it possessed a particularly putrid odor. By contrast, Marydidspeak, but her interjections were most often religious in nature—it seemed she had a quote from the Bible for every situation. Matthew couldn’t ascertain if she had any interests apart from scripture.
The conversation moved to music, and Matthew admitted he liked listening to it though he had no talent in creating it. Then, having noted the piano in the corner, he wondered aloud if Harriet would like to play.
She did, and wonderfully. He stood beside the piano as she played, and her fingers were captivating as they moved with confident precision over the keys. When she finished, she beamed up at him, and he clapped with feeling that wasn’t faked.
She would make a fine duchess.
Perfect, though?
Ugh. Then and there, he decided to eliminate that obnoxious word from his vocabulary. There was no such thing as a perfect duchess. He was a fool.
At the end of the call, the Cherrington sisters thanked him for his visit, and he promised to return, hoping that wasn’t against protocol. He didn’t quite know how Jo expected him to end such encounters.
In any case, he had another meeting with her tomorrow to tell her about it. She’d likely recommend he visit the Cherringtons again, and probably attend another party, soiree, or ball where Harriet would be in attendance.
He was looking forward to his meeting with Jo tomorrow. Beyond that, he wasn’t looking forward to any of it.
…
The following day, the duke swept into Jo’s office without knocking.
“Miss Porter,” he announced. “Please don your pelisse. I am taking you somewhere.”
She blinked up at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“It is too fine a day to be trapped within this tiny room. So we shall conduct our business elsewhere.”
“It’s fine?” She frowned. “Earlier it looked like it was going to rain.”
“Exactly! It will be ideal.”
“But…where do you wish to go?”
He smiled—and, of course, she melted. “You’ll know soon enough.”
