Page 83 of A Wicked Game

Harriet took her own mouthful of cake. “Dueling is stupid,” she mumbled. “And love isn’t about grand gestures. It’s all the tiny, everyday, seemingly insignificant things that all add up to something big.”

“But Harriet—” Maddie’s expression was almost pitying. “Morgan’s been showing youthosefor years.”

Harriet’s heart gave an irregular little thump as the truth of that struck her with the force of a blow. Maddie was right. He’d dived into an icy stream to get her pencil. Taken her on his travels by describing her to an entire ship full of sailors. He’d introduced her father to DoctorSaunders, and stood at her side to confront Heron, and cared enough about her safety to stay overnight.

She swallowed her cake with difficulty, as if she had a lump in her throat. Morganhadalready proved his love in a thousand different ways. She’d just been too blind to notice.

Harriet resisted the urge to slap herself on the forehead. Father wasn’t the only one in this house who couldn’t see what was right in front of him. She was a fool.

She glanced at Maddie and found her cousin watching her with a knowing smile on her lips. “Have you realized it yet?”

“I… may have been a bit hasty,” Harriet admitted. “Maybe Morgandoeslove me, but that still doesn’t erase all the other reasons we aren’t suited.”

Maddie drained the last of her tea and stood. “Give him a chance. I, for one, can’t wait to see what he comes up with. Considering he’s a Davies, I can guarantee it will be something worth waiting for.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

“If you’re going to the Stevensons’ musicale tonight, you’ll need to be on your guard.”

Morgan raised his brows at Gryff. The two of them, plus Rhys, were enjoying a midafternoon brandy in Gryff’s study.

Morgan tried to erase the memory of Harriet, blindfolded, leaning against the very desk Rhys was now lounging upon. It didn’t work. He could practically smell her perfume. He took a long sip of his drink.

“Why?” he asked, finally responding to his brother’s comment.

“Because the Aunts have been telling anyone who’ll listen that you’re on the hunt for a wife. You’re going to be inundated with simpering debutantes and matchmaking mamas.”

“I’m always inundated with simpering debutantes and matchmaking mamas,” Morgan said.

“It’s your own fault,” Rhys said, without a trace of sympathy. “You’re the one who said you were looking to wed.” He shuddered. “Although God knows why, when you’ve only just escaped one prison. Why put yourself back in chains? Voluntarily. For the rest of your life.”

“Marriage isn’tthatbad,” Gryff protested. “If youfind the right woman it can be the best thing that ever happens to you. Maddie’s the most amazing—”

Rhys made a retching noise. “Spare us the details of your marital bliss. It’s terribly unfashionable to love yourownwife, you know.”

Morgan interrupted them before the argument could spiral out of control.

“Well, the debutantes are going to be disappointed, because I’ve already proposed.”

Gryff raised his brows. “Who?”

Morgan deliberately waited until Rhys had taken a mouthful of his drink.

“Harriet.”

Brandy sprayed in a satisfying arc from Rhys’s lips.

“Hoi! That’s an Aubusson rug, you Neanderthal!” Gryff glared at him. “Maddie paid a fortune for it.”

Rhys sputtered as Gryff whacked him hard between the shoulder blades. “Harriet?” he continued between gasps. “Are you out of your mind?”

Morgan grinned. “Funny, that’s exactly whatshesaid.”

Gryff’s mouth dropped open. “She refused you?”

“She did indeed.”

“The cheek of the woman!” Rhys growled, apparently now annoyed on Morgan’s behalf. “Who refuses a Davies? We’re perfect husband material. Matrimonial gold.”

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