“Did she tell you that?” Giuliana volleyed, sarcastically.
“No,” Alexander gritted out. On the one hand, the visit was proving quite painful; on the other, Alexander was certain he deserved tofeel wretched, and he did no matter where he was or what company he kept, so he didn’t think leaving was in order.
He tried to win out and stay silent longer, hoping Giuliana would find another avenue of conversation. He gave in instead; truthfully, some sick part of him liked talking about Harriet, even if it was about why she didn’t love him.
“I’m not sure what she’d”—Alexander cleared his throat and then continued—“love about me. I won’t give her children, I took away her dictionary, she thinks I’m trying to seduce her sister apparently. On top of that, I’m a bastard.”
“Alexander, I refuse to sit here and catalog things she might love about you. You don’t pay me nearly enough for that. However, might I suggest that people fall in love not forreasons, but because that’s simply what we do? We fall in love with improbable people at inconvenient times. Although falling for one’s spouse is rather quaint of you two.” Giuliana paused then, and after a thoughtful moment continued. “All right, I said I wouldn’t do it, but, Alexander, you do happen to be quite handsome and rich and skillful at swiving. And pretending you’re unaware of those truths is dashed annoying of you.”
“Is that enough, you think?” Alexander asked, pathetically.
“God, no.”
Alexander threw his hands in the air. “So, what do I offer her? Other than my money and my cock?”
“Let’s not disregard such things outright.”
Alexanderalmostsmiled at that.
“She said you were my friend.” Giuliana tilted her head in confusion at the non sequitur. “Harriet,” he tried again, feeling a little shy. “She insisted that you were my friend. And, well, she was right. Thank you.”
Giuliana scooted closer to him and nudged him with her shoulder.
“That’s not going to make me list any more of your good attributes,” she said, her tone not at all matching her teasing words. He could hear the emotion in her voice. She leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a rather good friend to have, Alexander. And not just because you’re a duke’s legal son. As your friend, I must tell you that you’re being a horse’s arse and that you simplymustfix things with this woman. If only so that you aren’t such insufferable company.”
“Yes, you’ve said as much. But how?”
“Oh, I don’t know, give her everything she’s ever wanted and then beg on your knees for forgiveness? That would work for me.”
“I don’t know what she wants.”
“Thinkhard.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
UPON HER ARRIVAL AT A SHOCKINGLY WELL-KEPT MANOR AN HOUR’Sride outside of the city, Harriet was shown into a small sitting room to wait. Her hands twisted in her lap at the prospect of meeting Alexander’s brother. Of being here. She didn’t know who else resided in the home, if anyone. Would he be willing to meet her? Was he mobile? What was she to call him? Certainly,Johnwasfartoo intimate, even for someone who was nearly one’s brother, but Harriet had no idea of the man’s title. She had hastily looked up his name in Debrett’s the night before, only to find out that her father’s copy was woefully out of date. Harriet wasn’t even certain precisely what her aim was in visiting him. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake coming here. But she wanted to understand.
Finding the residence wasn’t as difficult as she’d expected; she simply wrote to Hawthorne and inquired about the house and hoped he wouldn’t inform Alexander that she was asking after it. Or, if he did, that Alexander would assume, based on his low opinion of her, that she was simply taking stock of properties that one day might become hers.
Her worry, as it turned out, was for naught. The door to the sitting room opened with a flourish and a lean and impeccablydressed man waltzed in. He smiled broadly and bowed deeply to her, which was not what propriety asked for. One had the immediate impression, although Harriet couldn’t say precisely why, of him being uncommonly striking and rather unusual. Like the peacock she’d seen once as a child at the Royal Menagerie. That trip was one of the last memories she had of her mother. The caged animals made her cry for some reason. Philippa had rolled her eyes and called her a ninny, and their mother had nearly cried herself at the trouble she’d gone to taking her three young daughters out of the house. It always made Harriet’s chest ache to think of that day.
Something about this man made her chest ache too. Perhaps it was that he was dressed too warmly for the balmy weather. Or that he seemed to be exerting a bit too much effort to simply be standing. Or the sadness in his eyes, which nevertheless crinkled with kindness when they met hers.
“You must be Lady Alexander. I am ever so happy to make your acquaintance.” He dropped a soft kiss on her hand and gestured for her to sit. “Tea will arrive shortly.”
Harriet relaxed immediately in his presence, which was just as warm as his dress. “I—I don’t know your title. I beg your pardon—”
“Oh, I hardly have any use of it, but the Marquess of Weston. Although I beg of you, call me West if you must, and John if you will. You are my sister now, after all.”
Tea arrived and John poured her a cup and sat back on the divan, legs crossed, eyes still twinkling.
“Alexander couldn’t make it, he is—”
“A bit of an arse? Yes. Well, we won’t hold that against him, will we? No one else does!” Harriet’s eyes widened at his candor. She sipped her tea, not sure what to say, and blessedly, he continued. “He doesn’t like coming here.”
“Why not?” Harriet asked; then, realizing her words, she demurred. “I apologize for being so forward. Please ignore the question.”
“I refuse! It’s the best one I’ve gotten in ages! Alexander …” He became contemplative, cautious. She could tell when someone shared an affinity or care for words. It endeared her even further to him, which she hadn’t thought possible. “Alexander is afraid.”
