Lord William took a step back. “I should be going,” he said.
“By all means, you should stay,” Greydon responded dryly. “It is obvious to me that you do as you please- with whom you please- anyways. Isn’t that right?”
“I would, but I’m afraid I am late for a meeting,” Lord William said before he rushed out the door.
Coward.
Greydon crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Harriet. He had so many things he wanted to ask her and he wanted the awkward silence to make her feel uncomfortable. He had learned people tended to let things slip when they were caught off guard.
Harriet tried to appear indifferent, but he could tell that she was nervous by the fidgeting of her hands. “Is this truly necessary?” she asked.
“Is what necessary?” he repeated. He had no intention of making this easy on her.
With a wave of her hand, she said, “This whole judgmental persona you have about you right now.”
“You hardly know what I am thinking.”
“No, but I can see the disapproval written on your face,” Harriet stated. “It is very unbecoming of you.”
Greydon narrowed his eyes. He was done playing the fool. “Did my brother know about you and William?”
Her mouth dropped, as if she couldn’t believe he had pieced together this puzzle, but she quickly recovered. “I do not know what you are referring to—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he ordered, his voice rising. “Did my brother know?”
Harriet lowered her gaze to her lap as she admitted, “He had some suspicions, but he did not know.”
Uncrossing his arms, he held her gaze. “I think he did know, which is why he intended to divorce you.”
Harriet put her hand in front of her. “No, you have it all wrong,” she said. “Phineas presented me with a divorce contract, but I talked him out of it.”
“That doesn’t sound at all like my brother,” Greydon remarked. Phineas was stubborn to a fault, much like their father.
“I knew all about his affairs and I pretended that it didn’t bother me. I knew what I was getting into by agreeing to marry Phineas. But it was different when he met his latest lightskirt,” Harriet said with disgust. “She sunk her claws into him and refused to let him go. She was the one that convinced him to get a divorce. He didn’t truly want one since it would ruin both of us.”
“Phineas’ solicitor claimed the divorce was based on the assumption that you two had not consummated the marriage.”
Harriet smirked. “We took care of that within a few hours after we signed our marriage contract. I can assure you that he had no complaints either.”
Greydon frowned. “Did you know about his other apartment?”
Harriet nodded. “Whenever we came to London, Phineas would go his way and I would go mine, but we always came back together when we retired to our country home.”
“You took no objections to his…” he cleared his throat… “indiscretions.”
“I took issue, but little could be done about it,” Harriet said, the hurt evident in her voice. “Phineas was not the type of man that could be faithful to one woman.”
“I’m sorry.” Greydon knew his words were wholly inadequate at a moment like this, but he felt sympathy for Harriet. No woman should be treated as terribly as she had been by her husband.
Harriet gave him a weak smile. “At least I got a title out of it. That is all that my father cared about when he arranged the marriage.”
“You should know that Phineas did leave a will.”
Lowering herself onto the settee, Harriet said, “I know, but it means little until your father agrees to the terms.”
“I will speak to him about it.”
“Thank you, Greydon,” she said. “It might be best if you leave out what you witnessed today. I do not think your father is the understanding type.”
