“I like my own company.” Harriet smiled, hoping it would hide the way her heart was racing in her chest. “You know how overwhelming I find people. Perhaps I am not cut out for intimacy and such things.”
“Lady Harriet Montrose,” Catherine gave her a stern look that was undercut by the gentleness of her voice, “you deserve a life full of love and laughter. A life where someone sees just how wonderful you are, and treasures you for it. Clearly, Phoebe has seen that in you. Perhaps there is a reason.”
Before Harriet could say another word, there was a knock at the door. She turned to see her father standing in the doorway. “A pleasure to see you, Duchess.”
“And you, Lord Devonmere.” Catherine curtseyed as Harriet’s father swept into a bow.
“Will you be staying long?” Her father’s question made Harriet frown. He never asked such things, not unless he wished for someone to leave.
“I was just leaving.” Catherine replied as Harriet’s stomach lurched.
The relief on her father’s face only made Harriet’s heart race, even as he said, “There is no rush, of course. I would not wish you to think me inhospitable.”
“Not at all. I have no wish to overstay my welcome.” Catherine squeezed Harriet’s hand. “Do come and visit soon Hettie.”
Harriet nodded numbly, rooted to the spot as Catherine left the room and her father turned to her, rubbing his hands together and then running a hand through his wispy grey hair.
“Well, that certainly is fortunate timing.” His eyes went to the door and then back to her. “There is someone here to see you. Mr. Grey, you may announce our guest.”
Her father’s steward bowed low. Harriet could not tell if the sound she heard was the steady beat of her heart or heavy footsteps coming towards her.
A shadow loomed across the doorway, and she barely heard Mr. Grey’s words as a tall, handsome man swept into a low bow, flaring his dark black travelling cape behind him.
Dark blue eyes met her own as the steward said, “His Grace, Duke of Irondale.”
“A pleasure to see you again, Lady Harriet.” His eyes never left her face, his deep voice filled the room. “I expect you know why I am here.”
She nodded, her mouth too dry to form words.Has he already spoken to my father?
Harriet looked at her father, and knew from his expression that the Duke had at the very least discussed it with him. The hopeful but cautious look in her father’s eyes told her that he approved of the match, but that he would not force it upon her.
The room shrunk around her, the room impossibly small. Had it always been so small? She dug her nails into her palms, forcing herself to breath in slow and measured breaths.
“I think I should leave the two of you to discuss this. Miss Helena, would you mind acting as chaperone?” He gestured to Harriet’s maid who had clearly been lurking nearby. “Over there if you do not mind.”
Helena nodded and sat in a seat in the far corner of the room, busying herself with embroidery. The acoustics and size of the drawing room meant that Harriet and the Duke would be able to carry out a conversation with relative privacy while not breaching the rules of propriety.
A wild urge to scream swelled in Harriet as the door shut behind her. Every muscle in her body was tense as a tightly coiled spring.
The Duke turned to face her, his face giving nothing away. “Do you have an answer for me?”
Harriet looked into his eyes, feeling as though she were falling into two deep pools. She felt the tug of the water, pulling her deeper, curling around her possessively as cold seeped into her bones. Louisa’s face filled her mind, then Fiona’s then Catherines.What do you want?
The word fell from her mouth before she could stop it. “No.”
CHAPTER 6
“No.” Lady Harriet’s eyes widened even as her words cut through Theodore like a knife through butter.
Anger, sadness, frustration and confusion warred within him, each clawing at him, desperate to be let out. It took every ounce of his strength to keep his face a carefully controlled mask.
As soon as he had seen her eyes widen at his approach, seen the color drain from her face, something had shifted within him. He had come to her to ask for her hand, if only for Phoebe’s sake.
He had thought that asking her father would just be a formality, that it would mean nothing.No.
His fought to keep his thoughts from his face and focused on Lady Harriet instead, trying to think of something to say. Sunlight streamed through the window, and he noticed her lips curve slightly, her eyes glittering. It reminded him of the banksof a river on a hot summer’s day.Why is it so hard to think?“Why?”
The question came out harsher than he intended, but to his surprise, Lady Harriet did not recoil. “Your Grace, you hardly know me.”
