“Hogwash. Who doesn’t know how to love?”
“Someone whose father is cruel and whose mother is gone.”
“What a coincidence. Mine are too,” Harriet said, knowing she was being petulant.
“Yes, but you haveus,” Philippa reminded her.
“What does that signify?”
“You already know how to love someone. And how to be loved. Does he?”
“I don’t—”
“If you insist you don’t love him, I will scream at you.”
“I—” Harriet chewed her lip, trying to think of something else to say. “I don’t know if he has anyone, actually. Well, there’s his brother.”
“The sick one? Are they close?”
“You know, I haven’t a clue. All I know is he reads poetry and lives outside of London, for the air. I don’t think Alexander sees him much.”
“That seems lonely. They both seem lonely.” Philippa said it offhandedly, but the thought made Harriet’s heart seize.
“I’m not sure he’s ever suffered from a lack of company,” she said, trying to match Philippa’s flippant tone.
“Harriet,” Philippa said then, her tone oddly serious, “I’m only telling you this because you seem in rather a desperate state. But as someone who also enjoys the presence of the opposite sex, I can tell you—and I’ll deny it should you ever remind me of this moment—it isn’t without loneliness. In fact, it’s usually because of it.”
Philippa stood then and brushed off her skirt, as if the moment of vulnerability had sullied her. Without another word, she left the house. And Harriet was left wondering:WasAlexander lonely?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“ALEXANDER,” GIULIANA PURRED UPON HIS ARRIVAL AT HER DOOR,“you’re back.”
“Do you practice that voice or is it natural?” he asked, unsure why this was his first question. But then it made her laugh one of her throaty laughs and he was glad to have said it. The sound dampened the anger he’d been desperately trying to hold on to. He collapsed into a chair, back yet again because of his troubles with Harriet.
“It’s more or less effortless now,” she answered, ringing a bell and asking for a bottle of champagne. “But that’s not what you came here to discuss.”
“Champagne?”
“We’re toasting to the end of my service.” She grinned at him.
“The end … of … what? You’re leaving?”
“Aren’t you letting me go?” she asked, without a hint of confusion. Her questions were always posed in a way that made the other person certaintheyhad misunderstood.
“No. One would think you were looking forward to the end of our arrangement with how often you bring it up.”
“Oh dear, it seems I’ve once again overestimated the male intellect. Regardless, champagne is good for you every now and then, and I like to err on the side of now.” As if Giuliana commanded the world—and Alexander wasn’t sure shedidn’t—a footman arrived then with the bottle and poured them each a glass.
“I’m certainly not going to let you go now. She’s … Harriet … she left.” Alexander decided Giuliana was correct about the champagne. He drained his glass and refilled it immediately.
“So, would you like me to tell you what an idiot you’re being now, or shall we wait until we’re done fucking and you’re even more tormented?”
“I’m not—You’re quite brazen, aren’t you?”
“I’m positive it’s why you chose me.” She winked at him and took a delicate sip of champagne, acting as if she were somehow three steps ahead of him.
She likely was. Any feeling Alexander had of understanding women had vanished right about the time he’d entered the Dunleys’ library.
