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He stared at her, his expression unreadable. What he must be thinking, she could not begin to guess. She had no choice but to explain herself—only to the extent necessary to secure his cooperation, of course. Hoping she was not about to make a huge mistake, she forged ahead. “It is imperative that I and my youngest sister, Catherine, marry as soon as possible. Not just for our own security, but for the sake of our other sister, Arabella.”
Even speaking her name caused a nasty, dropping sensation in Harriett’s stomach. “Father has incurred some rather serious debt of late, and my sisters and I are in danger of destitution if we do not marry,” she continued. “Arabella would have been with us in the endeavor, but unfortunately, she contracted a malady of the lungs just before the start of the Season.”
She began to pace, the movement soothing her raw nerves. “She is very ill, and the doctors are uncertain whether she will ever recover. If she does, it will be a long convalescence. Papa says he will not be able to afford to present her next year, so one of us, either I or Catherine—whichever is best situated when the time comes—will have to bring her out. Neither of us can afford to be associated with even the slightest hint of scandal, lest we endanger the others’ chances. I simply cannot continue to engage in conflict with you.”
“But we’ve just agreed to a truce, effectively eliminating the prob—”
“It has already gone too far as of last night,” she said, again holding up the paper like a shield between them. “People will be watching us now. I appreciate your good intentions, but you and I are like oil and water. We argue every time we meet. The best thing to do is to keep our distance. If you really want to help me, you’ll leave me be.”
“We aren’t arguing now.”
The way he said it made her quiver inside. Less than an arm’s length away, he stood with her in the warm circle of light cast by the lamp. It was as if they were the only two people in the world. His eyes were so dark, his gaze so intense. What did he see when he looked at her thus?
From outside the office came the sound of the front door opening and closing, breaking the spell.
Harriett grabbed a book from the desk and made for the door. Upon reaching it, she turned back. “As I was the one to draw the plans, I shall remain long enough to see the completion of the renovations,” she told him. “That gives you approximately two months, three at most, to find my replacement.” It was also just long enough to cover the birth of Arabella’s babe and see it brought here safely.
He
hesitated, and for a moment she thought he might refuse to accept her decision, but then he bowed his head. “I shall place an advertisement in the papers next week.”
“Excellent.” What else could she say? That her heart had just torn in two? That she didn’t mean it and wanted to stay—not for the sake of the Hospital or the children—but to be near him? No. Such would be madness. This was the sensible thing to do, the right thing to do. “If you require nothing further of me, I shall go and see to the children.”
Sixteen
Again, Roland felt the odd tug inside him as she turned away. Don’t go! Stay with me…Though he knew he hadn’t uttered a sound, she paused at the door as if she’d heard something. He held his breath. For an instant the brighter light outside the room cast a nimbus around her silhouette. Then she disappeared.
God, how he wished they’d met under different circumstances! He shook his head, angry at himself for even thinking such a thing. Not at all would have been better. Looking up at William’s portrait, he grimaced at it. This is all your fault. Now he had both a charity and a female—a most perplexing and, unfortunately, tempting female—to look after.
But not for long. Two months, she’d said. Three at most. And then she would be gone. He ought to have been relieved. Instead he worried whether with so little time she would be able to find a man who could tolerate, much less appreciate, her peculiarities.
There would be no shortage of interested candidates. Now that she wasn’t hiding it, her beauty would make her the object of ardent pursuit in spite of her independent, assertive nature. Any man worth his salt would take one look at her and desire her. But would she choose the one who would make her happy? Whoever won her hand had better treat her like a bloody queen.
That he should feel so protective of her after they’d been such bitter enemies was yet another irony. His life seemed full of them now.
Without Harriett in the office, there was nothing here for him to do. The ledgers were at his house. Leaving the lamp on the desk, he wandered out into the hall, aimlessly poking about in corners and exploring.
From behind a closed door a chorus of high voices recited the alphabet. A moment later he heard a woman’s voice command those within to line up, followed by the scraping of chairs. A moment later, the door opened and a line of small children walked past him. He guessed them to be around four years of age. One paused to glance up at him—and smiled.
The idea that an orphan would have anything to smile about was still shocking. He didn’t even think to smile back before the child was gone. Their keeper, a cheery, apple-cheeked woman, nodded pleasantly at him as she passed.
From the other end of the hall, Harriett’s voice rose above the din. “Walk, Mary! Don’t run or you’ll scrape your knees again!”
Not yet ready to confront her again, Roland ducked inside the empty classroom. When the hall was silent, he ventured out, memory leading him back to the place where he’d first encountered her. The same door beckoned, again left open just a bit. Peeking in, he saw the little boy she’d been spoon-feeding broth to that day. The child’s face appeared much less gaunt now.
The boy looked up and saw him before he could back away out of sight. Caught, Roland eased the door open the rest of the way. “Hello there.”
“Hello, sir.”
“What’s your name?” he asked, discomfited. He was unused to talking to children and didn’t have the faintest idea what to say.
“Jack, sir,” piped the boy. “What’s yours?”
“Roland.” It just didn’t seem appropriate to rattle off his full name and title to a child this small.
The boy smiled. “Same as me granddad. He’s dead,” he added in a matter-of-fact manner. “Are you here to take me away with you?”
The question caught Roland by surprise. “No. No, I’m not.”
