by Liana Lefey
Harriett held her tongue. “I’m sure it will, Papa.”
“Keep working on him, Harriett,” he told her. “I expect he’ll come to ask for your hand soon enough, but keep working on him. He’s a good catch.”
He’s the only catch—so far. The thought was dismal. But that would soon change if all went according to plan.
As she and Cat made their way upstairs, her sister began to chuckle.
“What?” Harriett at last asked.
“Do you really want to marry him?”
“He’s a duke,” she answered, shrugging. “He’s interested. And I am rather short on options at the moment.”
“You’ll have to have that Fitzholland fellow build you a separate house just to have some place to escape your lord and master every now and then. Or, like Lady Brockhurst, simply refuse to leave London.”
“He’s not that bad. And it’s Flitcroft and Holland,” corrected Harriett, unable to keep from smiling. “Russell can be quite pleasant, you know. As long as he’s happy I shouldn’t have any problem getting on with him just fine.”
“And when he’s not?”
“When he gets too worked up, I shall send him out for a calming walk in the garden or ask him to read aloud.”
Cat looked at her sidelong. “You enjoy hearing prose as much as I. Let us hope for your sake Woburn Abbey has an extensive garden.”
Eighteen
To Harriett’s utter disbelief, Manchester honored the truce and their agreement. From the moment she stepped over the threshold of the Hospital on Monday, he was civil toward her. More than civil—he was gentlemanly and remained so, despite her private prediction such behavior would last but a day or two. His manner was earnest, and he appeared to take both her and his duty to the Hospital quite seriously.
With each passing day, her surprise mounted until she wasn’t quite sure what to think.
When exactly one week after their initial discussion—as promised—he placed an advertisement in the London papers, she was flabbergasted. To be sure, it was a long and detailed advertisement with an exhaustive list of requirements. Reading it, she wondered whether anyone would dare apply.
To be fair, it was thorough and specific, and there was nothing in it that could be considered off-putting to a truly suitable applicant. There would be no time wasted interviewing unqualified candidates for either of them—a relief as there was a great deal to achieve in a few short months.
What was not a relief was the fact that he was now constantly at her side. He was her shadow, watching everything she did, listening to her every word. If she’d thought it difficult to be near him before, it was even more so now that he was being so nice. It had reached the point where she tried not to look at him unless it was necessary.
Unfortunately, whenever it was unavoidable, she could not help marking how handsome he was. Her eye was drawn by the way the light played in his warm, whiskey-brown eyes. Her belly tightened every time he gave her one of his rare smiles. And they were rare, even more so now than before.
A deep sadness seemed to have settled over him. It wasn’t evident in anything he said or did, but she felt it nonetheless. And it pulled at her heart. No doubt being here, in this place his brother had built, affected him so. She truly hoped one day he would see it as she did: a place of comfort, a place where he could be close to William’s lingering presence.
The thought elicited a frown. Her feeling of closeness with William seemed to have diminished of late. A side effect of having decided to move on, she supposed, dismissing the errant idea. Now was definitely not the time to reflect on what the Hospital meant to her. Such thoughts would only cause her further discomfort when it came time to cut the ties.
Manchester proved just as sharp-minded as he’d boasted when it came to running a business. But when it came to the other aspects of operating the orphanage, the skills about which he’d expressed some concern were indeed sorely lacking. He was every bit as inept when it came to dealing with the staff and children as he’d said. In the space of one particularly difficult afternoon, he managed to offend two nurses and cause a volunteer worker to quit.
“You cannot be so harsh with them!” Harriett scolded, pulling him aside. “That girl was helping us out of the goodness of her heart, and she’d been here but two days. You cannot expect her to know every rule in so short a time. Now she’s gone, and we’re short-staffed again!”
“How the bloody hell was I supposed to know the difference?” retorted Manchester, a bit of his former irritability showing through.
“Which is why I keep telling you to learn the names and faces of the regular staff. I know in your view they’re little more than servants, but the children here depend on them—and so do you. If they don’t come to work, you don’t have a way to care for the children.”
“She looked just like the other workers here,” he said, seemingly determined to remain obstinate. “We ought to have the volunteers wear a different color apron or something, so one can tell them apart. I want to be able to tell at once who is in the pay of this facility and who isn’t.”
It was not a bad idea, and she told him so. “But even with such a change, you cannot go blustering about and questioning everyone in such a gruff manner.”
“I was not being gruff.”
She crossed her arms and glared. “Why do the children stare at you like you’re going to eat them whenever you ask a question?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Because you scowl and tower over them like a giant,” she told him. They’d just finished talking to a little girl and her nurse—the same one he’d offended—and while the nurse had been forthcoming enough, he’d been unable to get a word out of the child until Harriett had stepped in.
“I do not scowl,” he retorted, scowling.
“Yes, you do,” she said, unable to help smiling a little. “You must try to see things from the child’s perspective,” she explained. “Get down and meet them at their level, eye to eye. And smile occasionally rather than looking like a thundercloud all the time. And lower your voice when you talk to them—try to at least sound gentle. You have to earn a child’s trust, especially these children. Think of where they come from.”
Though he nodded and looked thoughtful, she didn’t really expect him to try any of these suggestions. Which might have been why she was so shocked to see him employ them all. What’s more, it worked—which seemed to surprise him almost as much as it did her.
The weeks slipped by, and she watched him transform from an intimidating authority figure into someone much different, much more approachable. The harshness melted from him, replaced by a relaxed curiosity and a quiet confidence. Within a month of that conversation, nearly every child at the Hospital was calling him by his first name and smiling whenever he appeared.
His amazing transformation seemed to be mirrored by the changes he was making to the Hospital itself. Plans for the new sick ward had been drafted, and Harriett was stunned to find every suggestion she’d put forth had been incorporated. Every day she watched the new building rise a bit higher, and every day she felt a sense of great satisfaction—tinged with sadness.
She would be leaving soon.
Just this week, Arabella had written. Things were progressing as expected. The plan was to join her sister in Berkshire for the last anticipated two weeks of her lying in. Harriett felt it would be better to have a more experienced woman there, but at least she had attended several births and would be able to assist the midwife.
Time flew. Cat’s birthday party was tonight, and one short month remained before Harriett was to go to Berkshire—and still, to her frustration, she had not come any closer to achieving her goal. Every ball she attended, she tried to attract another suitor, to no avail. Russell seemed bent on preventing it. Whereas Manchester shadowed her at the Hospital, Russell did so everywhere else—which would have been fine, had he asked her father for permission to court her. But he had not. Not yet.
&nbs
p; “Why hasn’t he asked you?” whispered Cat as she finished her toilette.
Harriett glanced at her in surprise, wondering if she’d somehow spoken her thoughts aloud. “Russell?”
“Yes, Russell,” said her sister, rolling her eyes. “Who else? He seemed so eager. What happened?”
“I don’t know.” It was the truth.
“Why don’t you just ask him why?”
Harriett didn’t bother to hide her horror. “Are you mad?”
“You don’t have time to waste on him if he isn’t going to come to scratch.”
“He will.” She didn’t feel nearly as confident as she sounded.
“Well, perhaps you’d better encourage him,” said her sister, a sharp edge to her voice. “I’m anticipating a declaration of intent tonight, myself. Hammond has been hinting all week that he has a surprise for me. I pray it is a proposal.”
“As do I,” Harriett vowed. It would be the saving of at least one of them.
Less than an hour into the party, Papa sought her out in the gallery where she was with Lily. An enormous grin split his face as he apologized to her friend and drew her aside for a private word. “Winchilsea has just agreed to a match between his nephew and Catherine,” he said, keeping his voice low.
Happiness flooded her, as well as relief. “Has he asked her yet?”
“He is about to do so now, I think. I allowed them a moment alone in the salon. Come.”
Moving to the railing with him, Harriett looked down in time to see Hammond enter the room with her sister, whose face was radiant. “Thank the Lord,” she murmured as Cat looked up at her, triumph written on her face.
“Indeed,” said her father. “And now it is your turn. I rather expected Russell to approach me before now.”
“So did I.”
He turned to regard her with worried eyes. “And if he does not?”
She had no answer for him. “Then I suppose we shall make the best of it and hope for better luck during the Little Season. I realize there won’t be much to choose from at that time of year, but I understand I cannot be picky.”
He nodded, his reluctance evident. “Perhaps Russell will rethink his hesitation while you are in Berkshire. They say absence makes the heart grow fond.”
Oh, if only it were so! She’d be a fool to do anything but accept him at this point. A head of flaming hair appeared over her father’s shoulder. Speak of the devil…
“Good evening, Lord Dunhaven, Lady Harriett.”
Turning, her father greeted him with warmth. “I suppose you’ve heard the news?”
Russell’s eyes lingered on Harriett for a moment before he answered. “Indeed. Congratulations. Hammond is a fine man, and I’m sure they will be very happy.”
“Indeed, yes. I should think so as well,” answered Papa. “If you will excuse me, I think I shall just go and have a pipe to celebrate.” He paused before turning. “I’ve some very fine tobacco from the Colonies, if you’re of a mind to join me.”
But though he smiled pleasantly at the offer, Russell shook his head. “No, thank you. I just came back from having one myself.”
Her father’s face fell only the slightest bit. “Well, then. I shall leave you young people to your fun.”
Harriett watched him go with despair. Russell had just turned down the perfect opportunity to speak with her father alone. Much as she hated it, Cat was right. She had little time to waste.
“I’m so happy for my sister,” she said to Russell. Moving closer to him, she placed her hand on his arm. “Winchilsea seems very pleased as well,” she added, nodding down at Hammond’s beaming uncle.
“Yes. I must assume he is.”
His reply was such that she had nowhere to go but the blunt path.
“Do you not wish for such happiness as that?”
He flushed all the way to the roots of his hair. “I do.” He turned to her, opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and looked away.
Her spirits sank further.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, not looking at her. “But you must understand that I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I wanted to be absolutely sure before...” Now he turned to face her. “The last time, you chose someone else over me. Considering how close you’ve become to Manchester now, I couldn’t bear to risk a second humiliation.”
She did not bother to hide her surprise. “I was engaged to his brother, and we were—are—heavily involved in operating a charity together. We are friends, nothing more.”
He peered at her, and Harriett’s insides began to churn. Manchester was nothing to her—at least not in the romantic sense. True, there was a definite attraction, and she had begun to genuinely admire and respect him of late; but ever since their truce, he had refrained from making any sort of advances toward her. “I can see where one might assume—”
“It isn’t that I don’t want to,” he cut in, “but I must know for certain you really want to marry me, Harriett. I don’t wish to be your second choice.”
A lump formed in her throat. He did not deserve to be lied to. “I will admit I sometimes feel we might be better suited for other people, but I also believe we would make a very good match.” She was determined to bend in order to make it so. “It is simply a matter of adjusting to each other, and that takes time. Many fine marriages are made thus.”
“They are.” He sighed. “I am only being honest, Harriett. I want you to choose me because you want me.”
Her stomach clenched with fear. “Are you not in love with me?”
“I was, once,” he said slowly. “I suppose I never really got over it. I’d hoped this time it would be different without...”
“Without William in the way,” she finished for him.
“Yes.”
“Then what is stopping you now?”
He looked at her then, and she saw wariness in his eyes. “I don’t think you even realize it, do you?”
“Realize what?”
“The way you look at him.”
A shiver of foreboding ran down her spine. “At whom?”
His smile turned rueful. “Need I say it?”
“But I already told you—”
“I want you to take some time and think on it, Harriett,” interrupted Russell, his manner gentle but firm. “I know your father is sending you to Berkshire to be with your sister during her convalescence. You can tell me your decision after—”
“But there is no need for delay,” she said with a breathless laugh. “I’m quite ready to—”
He stopped her with a gesture. “I don’t want you to decide now. In fact, I won’t accept an answer now. I will hear your decision upon your return and not a day sooner. And Harriett, I want you to understand I would rather you decide against it than to have us unhappily bound together for the rest of our lives. Not just for your sake, but for mine. I know you would do your best to make things pleasant, but there is a vast difference between pleasant and happy. Think carefully before you decide your course.”
She could only nod in answer as he bowed over her hand and left her standing there, aghast. Well, it was a proposal—of sorts.
~ * ~
Roland watched Russell leave and knew something was wrong. Harriett wore the queerest expression on her pale face, and her hands gripped the rail so tightly her knuckles were white. Something had happened between them. Something untoward, from the look of things.
“I thought I might have the courtyard planted with trees,” he said, coming up to lean against the rail beside her.
“What?” She blinked at him in confusion.
“And the rest of the grounds ought to have some green, as well. Some shade might be nice in summer. For the children,” he clarified, watching her closely. “I would have thought you’d be happy to agree.”
“Yes, of course. You must certainly do as you think best,” she said, still distracted. She colored beneath his gaze and looked away.
He burned with curiosity. What had passed between he
r and Russell? “Is everything quite well?”
The pulse at the base of her throat began to beat unevenly. “I—yes. It is. Better than well. I’ve just had some very good news. About my sister.”
“Which one?”
“Both, actually. Cat has accepted Hammond’s proposal, and Arabella has asked me to come and visit her. She’s doing much better. I’ve already written I shall come at the end of the month.”
He knew it was more than that. “Please convey my congratulations to Lady Catherine tonight and relay my sincere wishes for Lady Arabella’s swift recovery when you see her.”
“Yes, of course.”
One heartbeat. Two. Three. He couldn’t help himself. “I hope you won’t mind my saying it, but you don’t appear as delighted by all of this good news as one might expect.”
The pink in her cheeks deepened. “On the contrary, I am very happy.”
He stared at her. “I know you better than that, Harriett.”
Panic sparked in her eyes an instant before she looked away. “Lord Russell…” She stopped and took a quick breath. “Lord Russell has just asked me to marry him.”
For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “And your answer?”
“I accepted.”
The way she said it told him everything. “Congratulations,” he managed at last.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice faint. “We decided to wait until after I return from visiting Arabella to make the announcement. We don’t want to overshadow Cat’s joy tonight.”
Roland knew it for a lie. Why hadn’t Russell simply waited to ask her tomorrow? Or a week from now? No. Something was amiss here. Neither she nor Russell had looked very happy just now. Harriett was the very picture of misery, actually.
He turned to look out over the ballroom. This was neither the time nor the place to press her for answers. He still had a few more weeks left to puzzle out the truth before she left to visit her sister.
And then what? The question blazed in his thoughts, blinding him to all else. What would he do with the information? What alternative could he present her? If she hadn’t wanted his help the first time he’d offered, it was unlikely she would accept it later. And even if she did, there wasn’t a single man among his unmarried friends he would trust with her happiness.
