Page 27 of The Marquess and the Maiden

Harriet rolled her eyes.

“Answer me this. Why has that option not even occurred to you?”

Harriet sucked in a breath. She allowed herself a moment to imagine such a thing, a world in which she’d caught that handsome giant of a man, that devilishly dashing man with a wicked tongue and eyes so haunted she wanted nothing more than to hold him until the dark shadows disappeared. But therein lay the problem. She knew herself. She knew precisely what would happen if she let herself believe such a fantasy. She’d lose her head and then her heart. Knowing that he’d never love her in return, she knew that she’d be forever ruined.

The Marquess of Davenport had the ability to destroy her completely. She refused to allow that to happen.

“That’s preposterous,” she said. She shoved away at the “what-if” thoughts that tickled at the edges of her mind.

What if he truly wanted her?

…

“Are you going to pretend I haven’t heard by now what you did today?” his mother asked from the doorway of his bedchamber.

Currently he hung from his exercise bar that had been wedged in his doorframe to the adjoining bedchamber—the room where his wife would put her pretty things.

He’d learned quickly, after his accident, that if he did not keep his upper body at peak strength, he had a more difficult time moving around with the limitations of his leg. Sweat dripped off his torso, and he eyed his mother’s petite frame. He let go of the bar and landed on his good leg before gripping his cane that leaned against the wall.

His mother had both hands on her hips.

“I’m assuming you spoke to Lady Lockwood?” he asked.

“Of course. She said you made your intentions known to Malcolm.” She handed him a piece of cloth to wipe his face. “I’m certain you did so in pure Oliver fashion.”

“What does that mean?” He rubbed the rag against his neck.

“Did you even ask Harriet yourself?”

“I did. She did not believe me.”

“Of course she didn’t. You rejected her six years ago. How is she supposed to believe that the years have changed your mind?”

“Because I asked her to marry me. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want her.” Why was this so damned difficult? Half the reason he’d asked Harriet was so he wouldn’t have to actually deal with any of this nonsense with any other woman.

“Harriet is a lady, Oliver. She has grown up expecting that certain things would happen before she married. You cannot barge into a room and toss her over your shoulder like some Viking. She needs to be wooed. Courted.”

“That’s ridiculous. Not wanting to deal with any of that nonsense is part of why I selected Harriet.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “You’re not purchasing a horse, my dear. You are selecting a wife, an actual person with whom you will spend the rest of your life.”

“I thought you’d be pleased with my choice.”

“Oh, I am. I’m delighted. Her mother is as well. Which is precisely why I’m offering you this advice. Because I want you to marry her.”

He moved over to the chair and lowered himself down. He didn’t have to explain to his mother that standing for long periods of time made his leg ache.

“You have a plan?” he asked.

“Only insomuch that if you’re serious about marrying her, then you should be willing to court her. Every woman wants and deserves a little wooing, my dear.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll consider it. Tell me your idea.”

“I suggest we host a country house party. A weekend at Brookhaven where you show Harriet your intentions as well as allow her to invite prospective bride choices for you. But, by the end of the weekend, you can announce your engagement—if she accepts.”

His thoughts fired into action. He’d need to procure a special license, then they could simply marry before returning to London. He could have Harriet in his bed before a fortnight ended. “Allow her to believe that I’m still using her services as a matchmaker in the meantime?”

“You can tell her the truth; I even suggest as much. Not good to start a marriage on anything less than honesty. Simply tell her that she is your choice, but you’re giving her the chance to prove you wrong, to give you alternatives.”

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