by Liana Lefey
“You need not worry,” she said, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen. “We still have plenty of time to find and train my replacement for the Hospital”
Damn the bloody Hospital! “Don’t marry Russell, Harriett,” he said without looking at her. “You’d be better off marrying me.” His gut knotted. What the devil had possessed him to say that?
When at last she spoke, her tone was frosty. “You may find this amusing, Your Grace, but I do not. Marriage is a very serious matter.”
Gathering his courage, he faced her. “I am perfectly serious. You should marry me instead. I know we got off to a bad start, but we’ve managed to overcome that, haven’t we? We’ve proven we can get along. In fact, I think we work well together. I’ve come to quite like you, actually, and I hope you’ve come to like me. I realize I’m not William”—what a stupid damned thing to say!—“but I’ve good qualities of my own.”
Roland knew he was babbling, but his mouth refused to stop. “If not for those reasons, then there are other benefits to consider. You’d be able to stay on at the Hospital for as long as you like. Your father certainly wouldn’t object to our union, and you’d be in a position to help bring out your sister once she is sufficiently recovered.” He gentled his tone. “Don’t marry Russell, Harriett. He is not your only option.”
Bloody hell. Other than clubbing her over the head and dragging her off to a cave, it was quite possibly the worst proposal in the history of mankind, as was evident in the stunned manner in which she now stared at him.
“I-I hardly know what to say,” she stammered. “You’re offering yourself—in marriage—to prevent my marrying a man you disapprove of?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
There was a whole world of questions loaded into that one little word. Questions he’d not even asked himself, let alone had answers for.
“Why would you do such a thing?” she again prompted.
“You deserve better than Russell. You deserve to be happy.”
“And you think I would be happier with you?”
Yes! his mind shouted. “I do,” he answered with what he hoped was dignity. “As I said, I am not perfect. Far from it.” A pained laugh escaped before he could rein it in. “But I know you well enough to know you could never be happy with a man like Russell.”
Emotions flickered across her face, and for a moment she appeared to waver. Then she said, “I cannot, Your Grace. It isn’t that I don’t appreciate your offer—I do—but I cannot accept it. While noble, your intent is, I fear, misplaced.”
He frowned. “My intent is to save you from making an enormous—”
“Mistake?” she supplied. Her lips trembled, but she maintained composure. “And you don’t think marrying me out of a sense of obligation to your dead brother would be a mistake?”
It had cost her dearly to say it, he knew. “It isn’t like that. I—”
But she didn’t let him finish. “It would never work. There is far too much history between us. More than I think we can ever overcome.” Her beautiful hazel-green eyes shimmered with the brightness of tears. “I must—I must respectfully decline, Your Grace.”
She’d refused him. Roland grew numb from the tips of his fingers all the way down to his booted toes. Somehow, he managed to bow. “I deeply regret I have upset you. Please forgive me. I bid you good evening.” Turning, he departed, fighting himself every step of the way. He didn’t want to leave her standing there alone, but he knew she could not afford a public scene, not with her sister having just become engaged.
He would speak with her later, in private.
Nineteen
Her head still swam, even two days later. Her afternoon toilette forgotten, Harriett stared at her reflection in the glass, not really seeing it.
He asked me to marry him.
She’d feigned illness yesterday in order to avoid seeing him, knowing that if she did so, she would surely say or do something regrettable.
He asked me to marry him. And she had refused in spite of an almost overwhelming impulse to say yes, to fling herself into his arms and say yes. Desire had been pounding through her at the time, as well as despair over her conversation with Russell. She’d never been so torn.
Manchester wanted her, yes—but he didn’t love her. He hadn’t made any mention of that particular sentiment. He’d admitted to liking her, but that was all. Russell had once loved her at least, and he seemed prepared to do so again. Provided she didn’t mess things up.
“You cannot avoid it forever.”
Yelping, Harriett whirled to face her sister. “What do you mean? And don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“You’re going to have to tell him,” said Cat, leaning against the doorframe.
Harriett had told her about Russell’s proposal—the pertinent part of it, at least. She had not confided in Cat regarding the conditions of that offer or the other proposal, if indeed it could be called one. “I will speak with Lord Manchester upon my return. That will be soon enough.”
Cat’s eyes narrowed. “I meant Papa. You know he’s been fretting over your situation. I cannot believe you have not already told him. But now you mention it, I am curious to know why you would wish to delay informing Lord Manchester. Would he not need to know as soon as possible so that he might increase his efforts to find a replacement for you? Or doesn’t that matter to you anymore?”
Harriett pressed her lips together. “You’re right, of course,” she said, rising. “Though we aren’t making an official announcement for a while yet, there isn’t any reason for me to keep it from either of them. I shall go and let Papa know at once and then inform His Grace.”
She stopped, her hand on the bell. “I’d planned to wait until the end of the month to see Arabella also, but there isn’t any point waiting for that either, is there? I shall go and ask Papa to allow me to leave in the morning.” She rang for her maid.
“Harriett, what are you running from?”
The quiet accusation gnawed at her conscience. “Nothing,” Harriett replied, hoping her smile was convincing. “There is little to be gained from sitting around here doing next to nothing for the next two weeks, is there? His Grace is perfectly capable of managing without me for a while, and I’m sure Bella will be glad of my company. God knows how I’ve missed her and worried over her.”
Much to her relief, Cat seemed to accept this. “I wish I could go with you.”
“No, my dear. You must remain here to hold your Hammond’s heart captive and plan your wedding.”
Though her chin trembled a little, Cat nodded. “You’ll be back to help me as soon as you can, right?”
It was hard sometimes to remember her sister was only sixteen. “Of course I will,” Harriett promised, hugging her tight.
Papa was delighted to learn of Russell’s proposal and her acceptance. He was not, however, happy to hear they must refrain from announcing the engagement until the uproar over Cat’s coup died down. Announcing her intent to immediately relinquish her daily duties at the Hospital had gone a long way toward restoring his good humor.
The sun was setting when she arrived at the Hospital. Papa had been against her coming here so late, but she’d insisted, citing the need to put things in order before leaving. To her relief, he’d finally given in.
It was imperative she do this now while Manchester was away. There was no way she could face him. She’d pen a brief letter explaining her decision and leave the keys with it on his desk. By the time he read it, she would be well on her way to Berkshire.
“Wait for me,” she instructed the driver. “I may be a while.” She wanted to be sure next month’s supply order had been drawn up properly and check on a few of the children.
Her stomach clenched on entering the building; his office door was open a crack, and a light shone from within. No one else was about. Gathering her courage, she approached with purpose, determined to get this over with as quickly and cleanly as possible.
; “What are you staring at, you damned fool?”
His rough, slurred voice brought her to an abrupt halt. There was a clinking of glass, followed by the faint sound of splashing liquid.
“You should have lived, you sorry bastard. Then I wouldn’t be stuck here. With her.”
The words stung like hot knife points all over. So this was how he really felt! It was a damned good thing she’d refused him. Thanking heaven he hadn’t heard her enter, she turned to leave—quietly.
“You should have married her and made her happy!” came another outburst from within the office. “Why did you have to take her heart with you to the grave, you miserable, sorry sod?”
Harriett turned back, unable to help herself.
“She deserved better,” he said, his voice thick. “She’s so beautiful, so damned...” Words degraded into incoherent mumbling. Glass clinked again. “I know I’m nowhere near good enough for her. I’ll never be you. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to be better, she doesn’t want me. She’d rather be with bloody Russell than even consider me. I’ve failed. Miserably.” Another clink. “Here’s to failure—my oldest friend.”
In the space that followed, Harriett realized she’d stopped breathing. Her heart threatened to crack in two from the pressure inside it.
Another clink and a loud slosh. “She bloody hates me!” The shout was punctuated by a violent crash and the shattering of glass.
Jumping, Harriett clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a yelp. In doing so, the keys she’d been holding slipped from her hand and dropped with a clatter to the polished parquet floor. Horrified panic filled her all at once as utter silence fell in the wake of the noise. Before she could turn and run, however, the door to the office swung wide. She stood, rooted to the spot as Manchester, jacketless and wild-eyed, stared at her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, squinting at her. He swayed on his feet.
“I—I came t—to...” Her blood returned to her face in a painful rush. Bending, she retrieved the keys and held them up like a shield. “I was just—I—I wanted to come and see how the new building was progressing and—and to fetch some contracts that were still pending.”
His eyes narrowed further. “Why did you not come yesterday?”
“I was ill,” she again lied.
He released the door frame supporting him and drifted toward her on unsteady feet. “Why did you not come earlier? The hour is late.”
“Yes, I know,” she said with a nervous laugh, inching back. “I began to feel better this morning, but Papa would not let me come until now.” It was a thin excuse, but perhaps he was soaked enough in brandy to buy it. “I won’t stay long. I promised him I would come right back—that I would be back in time for dinner.”
Amber eyes glittered as he moved closer. “I suppose you think me a complete fool, don’t you?”
Her pulse jumped. “W—why should I think that, Your Grace?”
“Don’t ‘Your Grace’ me, Harriett. We are far beyond that, you and I. You didn’t come here to fetch anything. You came here to cut ties.”
There was no use denying it. “It is time, don’t you think?”
“You refused me in favor of marrying Russell,” he spat, ignoring the question. “You think I don’t know why?”
She swallowed and backed away again. “I understand you were offended, and I regret having to—”
“You don’t love him,” he said, cutting off her pathetic apology. “You don’t even want him. Your desire is for someone else, only you’re too cowardly to admit it and see where it might lead.”
Her skin heated beneath his gaze. Unfortunately, so did her temper. “How can you say that when I’ve remained here all this time, in spite of—of—everything!”
“Do you think it’s been easy for me?” he shot back with a bark of laughter. “Seeing you, hearing your voice, working beside you every day? It’s driven me mad.” He leaned toward her and in a cracked voice muttered, “Everything about you drives me mad, Harriett. It always has.”
Her stomach tightened. “I didn’t know. You never said anything after we agreed to our truce. You’ve hardly even looked at me!” But he was looking at her now, and his eyes were ablaze with naked lust. “I thought you’d lost interest in...” Words failed her as he came closer, close enough that the heat of him penetrated the material of her gown. Unbidden, she swayed toward him.
Before she knew what was happening, she was in his arms. His mouth closed over hers and she opened her own, welcoming him. Beneath the sweet bite of brandy there was the unique taste of him, of Roland. Longing swept over her now like wildfire, possessing her, body and soul. Yes, she wanted him.
And she loved him.
On stumbling feet, they backed into his office. His hand left the small of her back momentarily to shut the door behind them. Then she was against that hard surface, reveling in the feel of him pressing into her, in the tingles left behind by each kiss he placed on her throat.
Her fingers trembled as she unclasped her merino cloak and let it fall. Every inch of her wanted his touch.
He did not disappoint. Her fichu he plucked out and tossed aside, raining kisses across her chest and following each with the lightest of caresses. She shivered, her breath growing ragged as her breasts began to ache and her nipples to itch beneath the layers of clothing covering them.
As if he knew exactly what she craved, Roland slipped a hand beneath her bodice and eased a breast free of confinement. She moaned as he began to massage it in slow circles, as her nipple hardened against the slight roughness of his palm. Then he bent and covered the naked, pink-tipped peak with his hot mouth.
A shock of pleasure ripped through her, streaking from the point where he suckled her all the way down into her belly and radiating out to her very fingertips. Her knees would have buckled had she not been supported by the door behind her. Overtaken by the lust pounding in her veins, she arched up to meet him, offering herself in complete surrender.
He tugged at the ribbons binding the two halves of her bodice together, loosening them until he could free the other breast and treat it to the same attention.
With each stroke of his tongue, each pinch of his lips, the place between Harriett’s legs throbbed. When she could stand no more, she buried her hands in his sandy-gold hair and dragged his head up again to kiss him with a ferocity she had not known she possessed.
His groaning response joined her own as she pressed her bared breasts against him, the linen of his shirt rasping against the hypersensitive flesh. Fleetingly, she thought that perhaps she ought to stop now, before it was too late. But then he ran his tongue across her bottom lip, and all thought was lost. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned into him.
Together, they staggered backwards until he bumped into the desk. Thus braced, he ran his hands down to mold her backside, pulling her to himself.
The turgid bulge seated at the juncture of his thighs pressed against her mons. It ought to have sent her into a maidenly panic, but instead it elicited only another, even stronger rush of desire. Reaching between their bodies, she ran her palm along the hard ridge.
Another long, rumbling groan broke from his lips. A moment later, he hauled her around until she was the one with her bottom against the desk. Wedging himself between her legs, he planted his hardness firmly against her.
Closing her eyes, she rocked back. When he bent to again lave her breasts, she thought she’d die. His hands slid down, and the cool kiss of open air assailed her calves and thighs as he lifted her skirts. He backed away, and that coolness touched the heat between her legs, bringing with it both blessed relief and terrible frustration.
Then there was only warmth and heat as he cupped her most private, intimate place. Again delicious sensation engulfed her, driving away the fleeting embarrassment of such intimate exposure. He caressed her, sliding the ball of his thumb against the slick, swelling bud of her womanhood. Unbidden, she let out a breathless little scream of pleasure.
<
br /> He took her mouth, muffling her cry in a surprisingly tender kiss.
A wave of heat and emotion washed over Harriett, and with it came a corresponding rush of wetness below. Unable to help herself, she moaned.
Lurching back, he fumbled with his breeches. His shaking hands couldn’t manage the buttons.
Without so much as a twinge of uncertainty, she reached out to help him with fingers made nimble by hunger. She closed her eyes as he tugged the material down to free himself.
The velvet hardness of his manhood bumped heavily against her inner thighs, and clarity struck all in an instant. She was about to lose her virginity to a man she now knew she loved with all of her aching heart. A man she wanted more than anything she’d ever wanted in her entire life. A man she knew she could not keep.
He was not himself. She’d tasted the brandy, felt it in his awkward stumbles and shaking hands, heard it in his slurred speech. This wasn’t like the last time, when she’d only been fooled into thinking him incapacitated.
Her heart clenched as he mumbled her name with what sounded like agonized longing.
Once. Just once, she would have what she wanted and be damned the consequences. Grasping his shoulders, she pulled him toward her. There was a momentary flash of panic as the smooth head of him pressed against her sex, and then he surged forward.
Everything within her expanded as the hot length of him entered her, eased by the slickness of her desire. Her body, which had wanted him from the moment they’d first touched two years ago, now accommodated him with a sharp stab of pain. Oh, how it burned! It was as though she were being torn in two.
But it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart as she held him, as it, too, expanded until she thought it would suffocate her. “I love you,” Harriett whispered, knowing her confession would be erased by the brandy he’d drunk. “I love you, Roland,” she repeated, tears streaming down her cheeks as together they slowly rocked, held tight in each other’s embrace.
