He turned his mind back to their elopement-abduction. “We could annul,” he suggested, grabbing a cravat and trying his best to tie it without the aid of a valet or a looking glass.
“No,” she said simply. He waited for her to continue, which of course she did. “If we were to annul, I’d be ruined, which is preciselywhat I’m trying to avoid. Besides, you can annul a marriage only in instances of fraud, incompetence, and impotence.”
“Surely a kidnapping counts as fraud.”
“I don’t believe it does, as we were inyourcarriage and you haven’t stopped our journey. Who would believe that I overpowered both you and your driver?”
Alexander had enough experience with women to know that the correct answer was not: “Anyone who’d spent seven minutes in your company.”
“Charleston is on my side of things anyway, I’m afraid; he’s quite the romantic. Youcouldclaim fraud if I didn’t come with the dowry you expected; however, you already know I don’t have one, and more to the point, the entiretondoes too. So then,Imust be the one to find fault in you. You would have to claim to own something that you do not, which is rather difficult as you own half the country, and furthermore leads us back to issues of reputation.” She paused for breath. “Neither of us can claim incompetence. Which leaves us with impotence!” Harriet had picked up her pace throughout the speech and by the end clearly felt rather delighted with herself.Bloody hell.
“Shall we testify that you are impotent?”
“No,” he grumbled, not quite as delighted as she was with her lecture.
“It’s a relatively simple process. We stay together for three years, and so long as we don’t consummate the marriage, and I remain …intact …then we can apply for it. Of course, you’d have to go infront of the court-appointed courtesans and make clear that you cannot …”
Her hesitancy amused Alexander. He gave up on tying the cravat well and simply knotted it.
“That I cannot what?” He hoped he sounded both casual and ignorant enough for her to continue her spiel.
“Well, I don’t know what it means precisely but”—Harriet gulped—“from what I read …”
“Yes?” He turned to watch her face.
“A man must prove that he can’t … function … when presented with … stimulus.” Harriet blushed an enticing shade of pink.
“I suppose that rules out an annulment. I’m afraid I’m quitefunctional, my dear.” Harriet shivered slightly at his use of a pet name, and he smirked.
“You could act as if you aren’t.”
“I’m really not sure that I could. Beyond that, I have quite a licentious reputation, as you have pointed out. I fail to see how it would benefit me to be separated from you yet publicly known to be impotent. Rather defeats the point of being unwed, doesn’t it?”
“Well then, we’re to be wed.” Harriet clapped her hands together once again, as if she’d settled the matter to her satisfaction. Only the tightness of her mouth spoke to any trepidation she felt.
“All right,” Alexander conceded. The dratted woman seemed to have won. Now that he’d ostensibly removed her from London in his carriage, there was no possibility of salvaging either of theirreputations without a wedding. “But it will be a marriage in name only,” Alexander clarified. The church and the newspapers and society could recognize the marriage; it didn’t mean the two of them had to. It wasn’t the ideal solution, but it was the best at hand. And his years in business had taught him that taking action was better than waiting for perfection.
“I’m hardly the type of woman to lower herself to begging for your affections,” Harriet retorted, and Alexander did his best to ignore the sting of her words. He was not enjoying this portion of their banter; Alexander liked being on good terms with women.
“It’s only, I do not intend for any sort of romantic attachment to form between us. Ever.” He knew this was a harsh directive, but better to set expectations from the start. God forbid she enter this arrangement expecting flowers or letters or love. Or worse, poems.
“I truly had not considered the possibility,” Harriet said, looking almost bored with the topic. “I’ll do my best to bear an heir as expediently as possible and then we may remove ourselves from each other’s lives.”
“There will be no heir.”
Harriet’s face looked as if she’d been slapped. Admittedly, his tone could have been a degree less absolute. Only, he didn’t want to leave any room for negotiation. There was none. Emotions passed across her face that he did his best not to read.
Harriet paused before speaking again. “No heir?” was all she came up with.
“Iwill have no children, which means, I’m afraid,youwill have no children. Unless I die, of course, in which case you are freed of this contract and may procreate at will.”
“How generous of you,” Harriet said, tersely. Despite his efforts not to notice, he could tell she was unhappy with these rules.
He couldn’t linger too long on robbing her of children, though. Nor could he promise to raise her bastard. Least of all could he bend his principles and entertain having children with her. The image of such came unbidden to his mind: babies with sticky hands, children with wild energy like he and John had had as boys, their eyes gray and their minds precocious from their mother.
“Additionally—” he began, cutting the fantasy off at its knees.
“Are you incapable?” At his no doubt evident confusion, she clarified: “Are you incapable of producing children?”
