Page 52 of The Marquess and the Maiden

There was no privacy to be found in this damned house. Harriet’s mother had already entered her bedchamber, her eyes full of sympathy, to try to calm her down.

“This isn’t as terrible as you seem to believe,” she said. “Many marriages start this way.”

Harriet shook her head. There was no point in trying to explain anything. All of her arguments, any of her reasons, would be for naught; she knew how this would end. How it had to end.

Then Oliver’s mother rapped her knuckles on the door before slipping inside.

“I would apologize on behalf of my son’s behavior, but I know it wouldn’t do any good,” she said.

Harriet nodded.

“I was just telling her that plenty of marriages begin this way,” her mother said. She glanced at Harriet. “You obviously have some feelings for him to be in such an embrace.”

She would not indulge in this conversation; the last thing she wanted was either of these women knowing what a wanton she’d become.

“Oliver is a handsome man,” she said.

“Who is obviously quite fond of you. I’d say he’s already halfway to loving you,” her mother said.

“Most assuredly, and then some,” his mother said.

Harriet shook her head. “He told Malcolm he would never love me. Could never love me.”

“What does what he said have anything to do with how he feels?” his mother asked. She cupped Harriet’s cheek. “I know what it’s like to be forced to marry a man you do not love, who doesn’t love you in return.”

Tears glistened in the woman’s eyes, and Harriet swallowed hard against her shame. She knew about how terrible Lord and Lady Davenport’s marriage had been. Her mother had spent many a tear over her friend’s unhappiness.

“This was a terrible thing he did,” she continued. “But, please, do not give up on my son.”

…

Oliver didn’t want to do this.

Hell, he was ready for all of these people to leave his house so he and Harriet could be alone. But their mothers had been right. The earliest anyone was leaving was tomorrow, and by then Harriet’s reputation would be in pieces if there wasn’t an official announcement made. So, he was ready to publicly declare their engagement and pretend, if for one evening, that he was a normal man who could fall in love so desperately that he had to rush into marriage, instead of the broken man he was who’d forced marriage upon a woman he was desperate to have in his bed.

She looked beautiful tonight, even without her smile reaching her eyes. Her pale blue gown fit her perfectly, accenting her narrow waist and generous cleavage. She stood stiffly next to him, her gloved hand draped lightly over his forearm.

The musicians stopped playing. A footman clanged a silver spoon against a crystal glass, drawing attention to where they stood.

“What is this, Oliver?” Harriet whispered.

“Our engagement party.” Her hand moved to pull away from him, and he settled his own on top to hold her still. He cleared his throat. “Under more traditional circumstances, the Duke of Lockwood would make this formal announcement on behalf of his sister. Instead the duty falls to me. Lady Harriet has agreed to be my wife and, being the impatient cad that I am, we will marry in two days at the village church.”

A hush fell across the crowd. Then the whispers began in earnest.

His mother stepped forward. “You are all welcome to stay to attend, if you so wish. Now then, let us celebrate this joyous occasion.” People applauded and smiled. She waved a hand, and the musicians began playing again.

“You secured a special license, ” Harriet said.

“I did.”

She turned on him, eyes flashing. “You were so certain you’d convince me to marry you, or had you planned on trapping me from the beginning?”

“I hadn’t intended to do anything save persuade you. But the night I spent in your bed…”

She sucked in a breath and her caramel-colored eyes darkened to a molten brown.

“I couldn’t wait any longer.”

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