Lord Harry's Folly by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page A

worry no longer.
    Sir Harry poked Scuddy in the ribs. “His name’s actually Mr. Thayerton Scuddimore, but we don’t like to hang the poor fellow with that mouthful, so Scuddy it is. He doesn’t deserve such a noble name either.”
    “It’s a pleasure, Scuddy.” So far, so good, she thought to herself. Both Harry and Scuddy appeared bluff and good-natured. She couldn’t help but wonder just how they would have introduced themselves had they known she was a female.
    Sir Harry turned to gaze at the now empty stage. “Well, it looks as though our milkmaid ain’t going to tumble in the hay after all, at least tonight. Scuddy and I were going to White’s for a late supper. Why don’t you come along with us.”
    Hetty said slowly, “You see, because I’m so new to London and have no friends here, I’m not a member of White’s. I’m not a member of anything.”
    “Scuddy and I are,” Sir Harry said. “You may come along as our guest. No harm done there.”
    “I say, Lord Harry.” She heard Scuddy’s voice, impatient now, “I’ve asked you the same question three times.”
    Hetty blinked away her memories and brought her attention back to the present. “I was just thinking about the cow at Drury Lane.”
    Scuddy laughed and thumped the table with the palm of his hand. “Damned funny sight. First time we met you, eh, Lord Harry? Damn it seems longer than what four months ago?”
    “Well, it was four months ago,” Sir Harry said, his voice testy, an unusual event. “Stop prosing about the distant past else it will be close to dawn before I can tell you what I’ve got planned for the evening.”
    Hetty recognized the rakish gleam in Harry’s sweet blue eyes, that, were it any other gentleman’s eye, would have been decidedly lecherous. Her palms were beginning to sweat as she forced herself to ask, “Tell us, Harry, what is this plan of yours?”
    “A visit to Lady Buxtell’s house on Millsom Street. It’s been a damned long time since I’ve been there. About time to make another call.”
    Palms sweatier still, Hetty knew she had to ask. “Lady Buxtell? A friend of yours, Harry?”
    Scuddy gave a chuckle and tapped Hetty on her very sore arm. She managed to keep the gasp behind her teeth, knowing such a display wouldn’t be manly. “Good grief no, Lord Harry. She ain’t his friend much less a lady it’s her girls Harry’s interested in, not that bloody old besom.”
    It had been with something of a shock to her when she discovered gentlemen’s conversations frequently settled in a most direct way upon the assets or lack thereof of various young ladies of their acquaintance. It was to their credit, Hetty supposed, that young ladies of quality were excluded from such frank and detailed comparisons, at least most of the time. But the bodily charms of females of a different class were bandied about in quite another manner. Up until now, Hetty believed that she had performed well, aping their rakish remarks and behaving in as lusty a way as her friends.
    She wondered what the devil she was going to do now. She shrugged her shoulders and tried to look bored. “Really, Harry, a brothel? I, myself, prefer to partake of goods that aren’t displayed to so many customers.”
    “Mighty high in the instep you are, Lord Harry. I tell you, it’s a very select house, not at all in the common way. You’ll not catch the pox there.” Sir Harry turned eagerly to Mr. Scuddimore. “Come, Scuddy, you ain’t said a word about the matter. I know for a fact you haven’t had a girl since you tossed one of your father’s serving maids. You said she gave you the grandest lessons imaginable. Time to try out your new knowledge.”
    Scuddy sputtered into his glass of port. “No need to shout it to the world, Harry. If you will know, I’m not too plump in the pocket, it being midway through the quarter. M’father wouldn’t take it too kindly if I showed up on his doorstep with my hand out.