by Liana Lefey
Sighing, he put it aside and moved to another which, according to its date, was written after he’d met Harriett. He scanned the lines, and at last her name jumped out at him.
...Lady Harriett Dunhaven, the daughter of one of Hogarth’s friends, has captured my interest. By lucky chance, her father hosted our Hospital planning committee meeting last month. She attended as an observer and afterward privately offered several very logical suggestions for improvement. Not only were her ideas practical and worthy of serious consideration, but I also quite enjoyed her company. We have since become good friends, such that I have spoken with Lord Dunhaven and received his blessing to pay her court. She is both pleasant in demeanor and wise for her years, and I believe she will make a fine duchess...
The letter went on to again ask him to return home. There was nothing more about Harriett. He took up another that had been written several months later. Frustration mounted as he skimmed through several pages of Hospital-related rubbish. Just as he was about to give up, there it was:
...and I am also delighted to inform you that Lady Harriett has agreed to marry me. The wedding will take place next spring. I would very much like to have you at my side...
Roland laughed in disbelief. His brother had written three pages about the damned Hospital before mentioning his bloody engagement. It certainly showed where his priorities had lain. He resumed reading.
...happy to say that Father is quite satisfied with my choice. Unfortunately, I do not think he will live to see the ceremony. If you are ever to mend matters between you, I advise you to come soon...
He tossed the letter onto the growing pile and went to fetch himself a glass of brandy. By George, he needed it.
Eventually, William had been forced to come and find him to tell him about their father’s deteriorating condition. Under heavy pressure, Roland had at last capitulated and agreed to come home. The visit had not gone well.
He downed half the brandy in his glass and returned to the letters, determined to read them all. There were eighteen of them, and to his disappointment most contained nothing of consequence. But one was quite different—William’s last.
...to know that it has been my greatest honor to call Harriett my betrothed. She is the best companion God could have given me on this earth, and I wish that I could have made her my wife. Her fierce devotion both to me and to the Hospital has been the cornerstone of my strength these last few weeks, but I fear they shall be to her detriment when I am gone. When you take your place as duke, I beg you to see that she marries well and happily. She deserves far better than to be bound to a legacy of stone and the memory of a dead man who never loved her as he ought...
The paper shook in Roland’s hand as he laid it aside, unable for the moment to read any more. The words William had whispered on his deathbed again echoed in his memory: Look after her for me. She is more fragile than she likes to admit...
His behavior tonight had been unconscionable. Driven by anger, jealousy he had no right to feel, and—God help him—lust for a woman his brother had clearly respected and adored, he’d hurt her.
He stared into the fire for a long, long time. A choice lay before him. He could execute his original plan and drive her away—away from him, away to whatever end she saw fit to make for herself. The image of her married to Russell rose up before him in his mind’s eye. He would be kind to her, but would she be happy with him?
I beg you to see that she marries well and happily...
Or he could help her find the right husband, a man who would love her as she deserved—and whom she could love in return. Perhaps if he did the latter, the blank space on the wall above his desk would no longer accuse him so.
Raising his glass, he downed the last of the brandy and made a decision.
~ * ~
Uninterested in her breakfast, Harriett halfheartedly scanned the morning papers, glad to have something behind which to hide her face. About halfway through it, a line caught her eye. Her stomach clenched.
“Of significant interest at the event was a vociferous dispute witnessed between Lady D. and Lord M., a rousing disagreement that allegedly ended in a most ardent kiss.”
Damn, damn, damn! Harriett folded the page and stuffed it into her pocket. Rising from the table, she grabbed a roll and hurried out to the carriage house.
“Take me to the Hospital with all haste,” she commanded the dozing driver. Impatience made her fidget while the horses were hooked up. She had to speak with Manchester at once.
Everyone who read that paper would be talking about it—and watching to see what happened next. Attention of that sort could be catastrophic! Everything depended on her and Cat quickly and quietly marrying into safety. Such would prove impossible with London’s tattlers printing things like this.
Alighting from the carriage before it could come to a complete stop, she ran up the steps and unlocked the door with shaking hands. Entering, she realized with relief that Manchester had not yet arrived.
All was quiet as she lit a lamp and slipped into the Administrator’s office. She stood before William’s portrait. The artist had done such a splendid job that she often felt as though a tiny piece of his spirit had been captured in it. Especially when the light was low and soft as it was now. It was nothing more than a fancy, but the idea had always been comforting.
Until now. The memory of how she’d reacted last night to his brother’s embrace flooded her with shame—and fear. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered as William’s beloved image blurred. “I fought so hard to honor your memory and protect what we built, and I have no wish to abandon it, but I cannot ask my family to suffer for my desire to remain here. If you can hear me from heaven, William, I beg you to forgive me for what I am about to do.”
Placing the lamp on the floor, she slumped into a chair—William’s chair, now become his brother’s—and put her head in her hands. Safe in the knowledge that no one was there to hear her, she let out a ragged sob.
Though it tore her heart in two, she knew in some ways it would be a relief to let go. Whether or not he wanted it, William’s brother had assumed responsibility for this place. And while she had the approval of the other governors now, it wouldn’t be long before he influenced them in favor of finding a replacement. Marriage would render her unable to fulfill the duties of the position anyway.
Wiping her eyes, she stared up at the portrait again. Better to leave on her own terms before any further unpleasantness could result from her relationship with the current Duke of Manchester. She hardly knew what to think of their relationship now. Was it a dispute? Was it something else? What was it?
The sound of the front door opening made her jump. Dashing away her tears, she rose. Before she could escape, however, a shadow darkened the office doorway.
“Somehow, I knew you would be here early,” said Manchester. He came in and looked at the lamp on the floor, the only light in the otherwise dark room. It lit his face from beneath, casting him in an appropriately devilish light. “My brother’s shrine is well attended, I see.”
She bit her tongue and forced herself to speak without sarcasm. “I didn’t wish to light all of the lamps until they were needed.”
“Don’t lie, Harriett. It doesn’t befit you.”
Previous experience told her arguing with him would only work against her, so she decided to get right to the point. “Your Grace, I wish to tender my resignation effective as soon as a replacement may be found. I am of course willing to help train whomever you select, should they require instruction.”
His startled gaze snapped up to meet hers. “You’re leaving?”
“I am giving notice of my intent to leave,” she corrected.
“Coward.”
The word cut her as sure as any blade. “Were I afraid of you, I should not be here now,” she snapped. “And I should certainly not have offered to remain until my replacement is adequately equipped to perform the duties associated with the position.” She lowered her voice, striving
to reestablish a cool, reasonable demeanor. “I have no wish to leave things in disarray, and I feel a smooth transition will best serve everyone.”
“And here I thought you were planning a seven year siege,” he murmured. “I know what prompted this sudden retreat.”
“It is not a retreat,” she objected. “My father has informed me I must marry before the year is out. Once I have done so, managing the daily operations of this place will no longer be feasible.”
“That’s not why you’re leaving.”
“It is part of the reason—the greater part,” she insisted, uncomfortable in the extreme. “I admit the situation between us has influenced me to do it sooner than I had originally planned, but it is not the sole cause. Again, I must respectfully remind Your Grace that the entire universe does not look to you as its center.”
Bending, he picked up the lamp and moved toward her with it. She shrank back a bit as he held it up. His eyes appeared almost black as he peered at her, searching her.
“I, too, did some thinking last night, if you want to know,” he murmured. “I have been unfair to you. I admit I did not like the idea of your being here and I have done my best to run you off.”
He swallowed, seeming to struggle for a moment before continuing. “William’s death, as I am sure you are aware, was quite painful for me. And you were—are, through no fault of your own—a potent reminder of it. It is no excuse for my regrettable conduct, including last night, but it is at least some explanation. Though it is much belated, I hope you will accept my apologies for the many offenses I have committed against you. Please forgive me.”
There was no hint whatsoever of sarcasm or levity in either his face or tone. Surreptitiously, Harriett pinched herself to make sure she was indeed awake. This was the second time a man had apologized to her since yesterday morning. Nothing changed, however, so she had to assume she was not dreaming.
“Of course I forgive you,” she answered, stunned at how quickly she’d said it. A weight she hadn’t even known was there lifted from her heart, leaving her strangely light.
“For that, I thank you,” he said, seeming relieved as well. “Perhaps now you and I can start anew. I—I should like to end the war between us.”
This was difficult for him, she realized. Very difficult. He was not a man accustomed to apologizing to anyone. “I have never wished us enemies, Your Grace.”
“Neither have I, which is why I’m asking you to stay,” he said in a rush. “I understand your obligation to your family, but please, just for a little while longer.”
She blinked, confused. He ought to have jumped at the opportunity to be rid of her. It had been his sole ambition since finding her here. “Why?”
“Because I want to help you.”
He seemed earnest, but suspicion tightened her gut. “Help me? How?”
“You said you need to marry. I would like to try and help you achieve that end.”
Her heart stopped. He cannot possibly mean—
“Though you may find it doubtful, I am friends with several eligible men of excellent character. I would be happy to make the introductions.”
Shock suffused her. He offers this? After last night? “I’m not quite sure I understand,” she said, searching his face. “Are you—are you offering to play matchmaker on my behalf?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “I know it sounds odd after what happened last night, but I do believe I can be of great help to you in this regard.” He held up the hand which bore the ducal signet. “I can certainly nudge things in the right direction with whichever man you choose.”
The absurdity of what he was saying struck her all at once, and a mad giggle welled up from her chest.
His brows collided. “I’m being perfectly sincere. I may have been out of circulation a bit, but my connections are still superb. And...since I am William’s brother, none would think it inappropriate for me to make the introductions. You and I were almost family, after all.”
This last was said with a curious, awkward sort of reluctance that caused her to again stare at him in consternation. He appeared quite sincere, but after last night she simply could not believe his intent was so noble. Mama had often said the devil that wore white was to be most feared.
No. It was too much to believe after everything that had happened between them. “I appreciate your good intentions, Your Grace, and while I will gladly remain to assist you in finding an appropriate replacement, I must decline your other...offer.”
“But why?” He moved a little closer, again frowning. “Surely you wouldn’t let pride stand in your way?”
“It has nothing to do with pride,” she said. “Think how it will look if you suddenly begin trying to marry me off. People will wonder.”
“Why on earth should they? Again, I remind you that I was very nearly your brother-in-law.”
The strange quality of his voice as he said it again struck her. She reached into her pocket, glad now that she’d tucked this morning’s incriminating paper into it. “Because of this.”
Moving the lamp closer so that it illuminated the paper she held up, he stared at it blankly until she, letting out an exasperated sigh, tipped the sheet down and pointed out the pertinent text.
“This means nothing,” he said after a moment.
“I beg to differ,” Harriett replied. “It means a great deal. I will be frank with you. My circumstances are not the most favorable. The fact is they are in all actuality quite dire.”
He stared at her, his expression unreadable. What he must be thinking, she could not begin to guess. She had no choice but to explain herself—only to the extent necessary to secure his cooperation, of course. Hoping she was not about to make a huge mistake, she forged ahead. “It is imperative that I and my youngest sister, Catherine, marry as soon as possible. Not just for our own security, but for the sake of our other sister, Arabella.”
Even speaking her name caused a nasty, dropping sensation in Harriett’s stomach. “Father has incurred some rather serious debt of late, and my sisters and I are in danger of destitution if we do not marry,” she continued. “Arabella would have been with us in the endeavor, but unfortunately, she contracted a malady of the lungs just before the start of the Season.”
She began to pace, the movement soothing her raw nerves. “She is very ill, and the doctors are uncertain whether she will ever recover. If she does, it will be a long convalescence. Papa says he will not be able to afford to present her next year, so one of us, either I or Catherine—whichever is best situated when the time comes—will have to bring her out. Neither of us can afford to be associated with even the slightest hint of scandal, lest we endanger the others’ chances. I simply cannot continue to engage in conflict with you.”
“But we’ve just agreed to a truce, effectively eliminating the prob—”
“It has already gone too far as of last night,” she said, again holding up the paper like a shield between them. “People will be watching us now. I appreciate your good intentions, but you and I are like oil and water. We argue every time we meet. The best thing to do is to keep our distance. If you really want to help me, you’ll leave me be.”
“We aren’t arguing now.”
The way he said it made her quiver inside. Less than an arm’s length away, he stood with her in the warm circle of light cast by the lamp. It was as if they were the only two people in the world. His eyes were so dark, his gaze so intense. What did he see when he looked at her thus?
From outside the office came the sound of the front door opening and closing, breaking the spell.
Harriett grabbed a book from the desk and made for the door. Upon reaching it, she turned back. “As I was the one to draw the plans, I shall remain long enough to see the completion of the renovations,” she told him. “That gives you approximately two months, three at most, to find my replacement.” It was also just long enough to cover the birth of Arabella’s babe and see it brought here safely.
He
hesitated, and for a moment she thought he might refuse to accept her decision, but then he bowed his head. “I shall place an advertisement in the papers next week.”
“Excellent.” What else could she say? That her heart had just torn in two? That she didn’t mean it and wanted to stay—not for the sake of the Hospital or the children—but to be near him? No. Such would be madness. This was the sensible thing to do, the right thing to do. “If you require nothing further of me, I shall go and see to the children.”
Sixteen
Again, Roland felt the odd tug inside him as she turned away. Don’t go! Stay with me…Though he knew he hadn’t uttered a sound, she paused at the door as if she’d heard something. He held his breath. For an instant the brighter light outside the room cast a nimbus around her silhouette. Then she disappeared.
God, how he wished they’d met under different circumstances! He shook his head, angry at himself for even thinking such a thing. Not at all would have been better. Looking up at William’s portrait, he grimaced at it. This is all your fault. Now he had both a charity and a female—a most perplexing and, unfortunately, tempting female—to look after.
But not for long. Two months, she’d said. Three at most. And then she would be gone. He ought to have been relieved. Instead he worried whether with so little time she would be able to find a man who could tolerate, much less appreciate, her peculiarities.
There would be no shortage of interested candidates. Now that she wasn’t hiding it, her beauty would make her the object of ardent pursuit in spite of her independent, assertive nature. Any man worth his salt would take one look at her and desire her. But would she choose the one who would make her happy? Whoever won her hand had better treat her like a bloody queen.
That he should feel so protective of her after they’d been such bitter enemies was yet another irony. His life seemed full of them now.
Without Harriett in the office, there was nothing here for him to do. The ledgers were at his house. Leaving the lamp on the desk, he wandered out into the hall, aimlessly poking about in corners and exploring.
