Page 29 of The Marquess and the Maiden

Chapter Eight

Harriet started at the knock on her bedchamber door. “Come in.”

Her mother poked her fair head in. “Care for a chat?”

“Always.” They had a special bond, the two of them. Her mother was close to all her children, but there was something unique about their bond. She came inside and closed the door behind her, moving to sit on the small settee Harriet kept under the large window that overlooked the gardens behind their corner townhome.

Harriet joined her mother. She knew why she was here. And she’d been tempted to tell her no, that she didn’t particularly care for a chat, but this was her mother. She’d never kept secrets from her before. Well, not until Harriet had joined the Ladies of Virtue. That she had to keep from her mother else Harriet would be forbidden to participate.

Her mother picked at a string that had come lose from a button on the settee. She wound the string around and around the button until it disappeared.

“I know what you want to discuss,” Harriet said. She’d rather get this entire ordeal over with. She could kill Oliver for bringing this jest or whatever game he played into her family, into her home.

Her mother nodded. “Oliver has expressed his interest in marrying you.”

Harriet snorted. “That is what he says, but it is not the truth. There is something he’s after. I’m not certain if it’s to humiliate me or what, but I’m on to him.”

Confusion sparked over her mother’s features. “I’m not so certain, my pet. According to Malcolm he was quite serious. Not even so much as seeking a blessing or permission as he was making a claim.”

Those words seemed to rattle through her heart, shaking it up and starting it beating as if it had been still and silent in her chest for so very long. Making a claim. On her?

“You believe I should agree to his ridiculous proposal?” Harriet asked.

“I have always thought the two of you would be a good match, but you know that Claudine and I have been friends nearly our entire lives. Being connected by a marriage between our children has been a dream for us for many years. This isn’t about me, though. This is about you and what you want.”

Harriet stood and paced the small area of her room that wasn’t crowded with furniture. “Everyone believes I should simply accept. That I should be thankful he lowered himself to offer for me, because this is the only proposal I’ll ever get. That he’s the best I can do, the only option for me.” The words broke through as if she’d been holding them back for too long.

Her mother said nothing, merely nodded and listened.

“No one has stopped to ask what I want.”

“What is it that you want, my pet?”

What did she want? For Oliver’s proposal to be authentic? For this entire ordeal to not be a jest on his part?

“I want the love match that you and father had, the love that Helen and Bradley share. I would rather be a spinster than marry someone who could never love me. Do you know that’s what he told Malcolm? I heard it with my own ears. That he could never love me.” She did nothing to hide the tears that came then. “I am the only one to see this as some manipulative game he’s playing. I am the one who will be hurt, no one else.”

“You are quite right,” her mother said. “I think wanting to marry for love is perfectly acceptable, but I do need to correct you on one fact. Your father and I did not start out in love.”

Harriet stopped pacing and stared at her mother.

“I should say I did not love him initially. He professed his love for me for weeks before I even agreed to become his wife, and even then it took me another two years before recognizing that I’d fallen in love with him in return. He was very patient with me.”

It didn’t change anything, though, because her father had always loved her mother. And Bradley and Helen had married for love. It was what Harriet wanted, and it would keep her from the rejection and humiliation she’d felt six years ago when she’d offered herself to Oliver. “I never knew.”

“Well, it hardly seemed important. By the time you children came around, we were both besotted fools, and we stayed that way until he passed, God rest his soul.” She smiled wistfully. “I miss that silly man every day.”

“I do too.”

“You said that everyone believes you should accept his proposal,” her mother said. “Who is everyone?”

“You and Malcolm and Agnes. My everyone is limited, but still…”

“You feel the pressure?”

“Yes.” She’d had her heart set on a love match for as long as she could remember. Her parents had adored each other; everyone who had ever been in the same room with them could see it. And then she’d watched her sister marry for love, and it felt like a sign. But what if she never found her love match? Was she willing to be the favorite spinster aunt and live off her brother’s good fortune the rest of her life?

“I believe you’ll find that love you seek,” her mother said, as if reading her thoughts. “It might not come precisely as you imagine it, though, and I want you to be open to possibilities. Love does not always look like what you’re expecting.” She grabbed Harriet’s hand and squeezed. “Can you promise me that?”

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