“I was only going to thank you. I’ve wanted to strike that milksop for weeks. Never liked him. He never listened to her when she spoke.” Alexander let out a resigned, overwhelmed huff of laughter, and Presley wandered off again, humming to himself.
Alexander was left in the front hall, lost. He couldn’t remember what he’d been setting off to do before Mr. Dawkins waylaid him. All he could think was that the man was correct about one thing: Harriet wouldn’t be happy.
Chapter Twenty-Five
HARRIET RETURNED HOME.SHE NEEDED TO WRITE A MISSIVE TOMR.Dawkins and apologize for today. And then she needed to make a plan. She couldn’t think of Alexander, and his visit to Philippa, or the fact that he’d granted her free use of his wealth, when he hadn’t offered the same to Harriet. He hadn’t offered anything, really. He’d only asked her to come live with him for a short while for the sake of appearances. Well, they’d appeared. Thetonhad seen them. Not as much as he may have liked, although that was why one didn’t marry a wallflower, wasn’t it?
After penning her note, she rang for Anne and then went to her wardrobe. She’d stay with her sisters for a while, at least until she felt certain her father was gone and she had the money from the dictionary. She began packing a few simple day dresses into her valise; she would hardly need the ball gowns Alexander had ordered for her. The door opened behind her as she continued packing.
“The letter on the desk—will you post it, please?”
“Are you packing?”
Alexander?Harriet whipped around to see him leaning against the doorframe. He looked haggard and tired. As if he’d been awakeall night. Lord knew where he’d been before he arrived at Philippa’s that morning. For all she knew he was tired because he’d been out all night tupping the entire cast ofLe Nozze di Figaro.
“I am. My—” Alexander had picked up her letter addressed to Mr. Dawkins and was examining it with an odd expression. “My sisters need me.”
“I’ve told you, I will provide them with anything they might require.”
Harriet tilted her head. “I think you may have the wrong sister,” she bit out, wishing she didn’t sound as waspish as she knew she did. He’d made the offer toPhilippa. Could he really not keep them apart?
His eyes shot to her. “What does that mean?”
“Never mind.” She continued dumping items into her valise, only now she was paying little attention to what they were.
“Harriet, I’m afraid I have to admit something to you.” He set down the letter and came closer to her. She stiffened and scolded her stomach for fluttering with excitement.
“I believe I already know, my lord.” He flinched at the honorific, which wasn’t as gratifying as Harriet had hoped. “You need not confess.”
“Harriet, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I couldn’t help myself—I—”
“I believe you,” she said, cutting him off. The odd part was: She did. She believed he was sorry. Still, she couldn’t continue to live like this. Watching him bed other women, offering nothing to her.It might make her a ninny and a fool, and it unquestionably would make her lonely, but she wanted to be chosen. “I simply think we’ve run our course. We wanted to keep up appearances for the sake of reputation, and we have. If there is any other event you’ve a need for me to attend, please write to me at my father’s and I will happily acquiesce. I see no reason for us to live as husband and wife. I believe we’d both be happier returning to our old lives.”
“Do you really think that?” He looked hurt, which surprised her, although she knew he was used to having every single woman available to him. Perhaps he’d convinced himself that he had won her over, that she had fallen under his spell. He was correct, in a way; shehadoffered herself to him. He probably had assumed he had longer to avail himself. It was good she was leaving now.
“Yes,” Harriet said, sadly. “I’m sure it’s a relief to hear.”
Alexander scrubbed a hand over his face, not looking at all relieved. He glanced down at the letter once more. “I know you don’t want to hear any more on the topic, so I’ll only say this, Harriet: that man—Mr. Dawkins—he doesn’t care for you.”
What an odd thing to say!
“And you do?” she challenged, her packing arrested. For a moment it looked like he might admit that he did, in some way, care for her.
“Did you want me to?” Harriet wanted to let out a deep and loud andlongguttural yell at the man.Now?Now he was asking her if he ought to have tried to care for her? “I seem to remember you repeating many times that you did not want to marry me.”
“AndIseem to remember that you had to be kidnapped to offer for me. Not to worry, my lord. I am not holding out for some display of affection or promise of fidelity. We both know how constancy chafes you.”
“We agreed—Harriet … I didn’t … you know. I never wanted—”
“I know you didn’t,” Harriet said, rather sadly. She did not need to hear him explain yet again that he didn’t want a wife. They both were silent for a moment, until an odd emotion crossed his face. Harriet followed his gaze down to her hands.
“Your ring” was all he said.
“Oh, yes,” Harriet gulped. She hadn’t for a second considered he might notice or care. Although it was, she supposed, his property. She winced before admitting, “I sold it.”
It was close to the truth and she didn’t relish admitting she’d given it to her father. The fewer people entangled with the Earl of Tidewell the better.
“It wasn’t to your tastes?”
