Page 44 of Their Wildest Dreams

He gave her the letter. Harriet read it slowly, her mouth tightening as she reached the final line.

“Crandell must not know he has been discovered,” she said. “Not until we have dealt with Selby.”

“I have every intention of dealing with Selby. Crandell’s arrest will not prevent it.”

“It will warn him.” Harriet returned the letter. “Selby did not mean merely to take me. He believed our marriage had not been consummated and intended to prove it.”

Mrs. Mercer looked from Harriet to Benedict but said nothing. Benedict sat upon the edge of the bed. “How?”

Harriet’s fingers tightened about the glass. “He meant to force me to submit to an examination by a physician. He said that if a doctor attested that I remained untouched, he could challenge the marriage and overturn the settlement.”

For a moment, Benedict could not speak. The thought of Selby placing Harriet in the custody of some man willing to participate in such an examination made him regret that he had not ridden directly to Selby’s house upon leaving the field.

“I will kill him,” Benedict said with enough calm to make the declaration more than an expression of anger.

“Not while I am confined to bed and unable to witness it.” Harriet handed the glass to Mrs. Mercer. “That would be very inconsiderate of you.”

“Harriet, this is not amusing,” he warned, though the familiarity of her response offered more relief than he wished to reveal.

“No. It is not.” The humor left her expression. “But Selby knew enough about our private arrangement to believe he could act upon it. Crandell gave him that information. If we summon the magistrate now, both men will begin inventing explanations before we have decided what questions to ask.”

Benedict wanted Crandell removed from the house. He wanted Selby dragged from his bed and placed somewhere he would never again come within reach of Harriet. But she had been denied all control over what happened to her the previous day. He would not do the same simply because his motives were better.

He looked at Mrs. Mercer. “Keep Crandell belowstairs. He is not to leave, receive visitors or send any message. He must not know that we have found the letter.”

“Very good, my lord.” Mrs. Mercer gathered the physician’s bottles from the bedside table. “I will return with broth shortly. Her ladyship is not to be encouraged in the belief that nearly dying excuses her from eating.”

“I knew there would be some punishment attached to surviving,” Harriet said.

Mrs. Mercer gave her a look which promised a far lengthier lecture when she was stronger, then left the chamber.

Benedict remained beside the bed. During the search, he had promised himself that if he found Harriet, he would tell her that he loved her. It had seemed simple while he was riding through the dark, when the possibility of never speaking the words frightened him more than her response. It was less simple now that she was watching him.

“You are staring at me,” Harriet observed. “Has the physician forbidden that as well?”

“No. Only excitement and distress.” Benedict took her hand, careful of the bruises upon her wrist. “I am attempting to decide if what I have to say will cause either.”

“Considering our history, it will likely cause both. You may as well proceed.”

He looked down at their joined hands. “Selby was wrong. Whatever brought us to the altar and whatever agreement we made afterward, our marriage is not a sham. You are my wife. I am your husband. There is nothing false in what exists between us.”

Harriet’s fingers tightened around his. “No. There is not.”

Benedict lifted his gaze and told her the rest before caution could interfere. “I love you.”

She looked at him for a moment, then smiled. “Of course you do. I’m entirely lovable.”

He laughed. After the hours of fear and anger, the sound felt almost unfamiliar. Benedict raised her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers. “That is not what I mean, and you know it. I am in love with you.”

Harriet nodded as if he had confirmed something she already suspected. “Good. Because I would hate to suffer such a fate alone. It would be a terrible thing to be in love with one’s husband and have said husband not be in love in return.”

Benedict stared at her, uncertain for once that he had understood her correctly. “You love me?”

“I believe I do. I have had a difficult night, and my head is not at its best, but I do not think I am mistaken.” Her expression softened. “When Selby stopped the carriage, all I could think was that I had to reach you. Not Everton. You. I knew if I could get to you, I would be safe.”

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to lift her from the bed and hold her until the memory of finding her in that field no longer made his hands shake. Instead, Benedict pressed his lips to her palm.

“When you are recovered, we will finish the conversation which was interrupted yesterday morning,” he said.