Hartley glared at him.
“Have you spoken with the lady?” Wiltshire asked.
“I did.”
“And?”
“She said she was laughing because he asked her about the weather.”
“That sounds like the lady. She cannot tolerate fools,” Wiltshire said.
Wiltshire’s words hit Hartley like a slap. Was he being a fool? Now that he took a few moments to consider her explanation, he truly felt horrible. He’d made her cry, which was worse than if she’d railed against him.
“I’ll ask you again, Hartley. Do you love Lady Harriet?” Wiltshire asked.
“I cannot breathe without her. She’s the world to me, and I think I’ve ruined everything.”
“Answer the question,” Wiltshire said.
Hartley nodded. “Yes, I love her with every fiber of my being.”
“Have you told her?”
Horror swamped Hartley at what he’d done. “I walked away from her, and never told her how I feel. I’m such an idiot!”
“Sounds like a man in love,” Richard said. “We understand. We’ve all been there.”
“I need to fix this. I need to propose to her right away,” Hartley asked.
“Come tomorrow for tea. My duchess and I will return to Dalling Manor in the morning. You must speak with Harriet first. It is her decision whether she’ll accept your suit before we get her cousin’s permission for her to marry.”
“Of course. I understand.”
“Would you care to stay for dinner?” Richard asked.
Hartley shook his head. “Thank you, no. I must get back. Seems like I’m in need of a betrothal ring.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jon,” Wiltshire said.
“I’ll be there,” Hartley said, striding out of the room. On the ride back to his home, he berated himself for being such a fool, and he could only hope that the lady would forgive him. He had no idea what he’d do if she refused him.
Chapter 20
Harriet didn’t know how shewas going to live without Lord Hartley. Why hadn’t he listened to her? She’d been very clear in her explanation about what happened with Lord Cawley, but he’d still walked away from her. It felt like her heart had been torn from her chest, and stomped upon it.
After apologizing to her Gran for ruining visiting hours, she took a dinner tray in her room. She wasn’t fit company for anyone, and it led to a restless night, tossing and turning in between bouts of tears. She’d never felt such devastating pain before.
The next morning, after a quick knock, her maid walked in with a tray of tea and toast. “Good morning, Lady Harriet.”
Except it wasn’t a good morning and would never be a good morning again.
Rhonda put the tray over her lap. “Shall I pour for you, my lady?”
Harriet shook her head. “No. I can manage.”
“Very good, my lady. I’ll go prepare your bath while you break your fast,” the maid said, walking into the dressing room.
Harriet’s throat was parched, and she was glad Rhonda had brought her tea. She poured out the steaming liquid and took little sips of the soothing blend. She nibbled on the toast, but it held no taste for her. Yesterday, the world had seemed bright and full of promise, and today, it was dark and gloomy.
