Page 68 of The Marquess and the Maiden

Benedict swore.

Oliver scrubbed a hand down his face. He’d forced her into a marriage despite her repeatedly telling him no, then he’d brought her to the country where he’d left her with strangers until the black of the night when he’d slaked himself on her body. He’d given her pleasure, too, he knew that. But it obviously hadn’t been enough. In truth, it wasn’t enough for him, either, that’s what was so damned troubling. “If I gave in to my desires, I’d be with the woman all day and all night. I crave her nearness like some kind of addiction.”

Benedict merely nodded as if he completely understood the notion.

“It scares the hell out of me.”

“I know that bitch, Catherine, changed how you felt about love and marriage. You can see now that things aren’t quite so black and white?” Benedict asked.

He never thought he’d find a woman who would love him. He’d given up that idea the moment Catherine had turned her back on him and walked away. He wasn’t a whole man; he was broken and therefore unlovable, and she’d told him as much before she’d left. Harriet loved him. Had told him so. Only the one time, but he knew it to be true. She had left, too.

“You need to tell her,” Benedict said, his voice low.

“Tell her what?”

“Tell Harriet you love her. Women need to hear the actual words.”

Did he love her? Was he even capable of such a thing? He’d thought he was at one point, but then everything had changed. He felt something for Harriet, something beyond lust. He wasn’t so ignorant as to not recognize that. But love? He still wasn’t certain he was capable of such an emotion. And if he was, would it be the kind of love she deserved?

“Since when are you an expert on all things love?” Oliver asked.

Benedict pointed at him and smiled. “You don’t disagree with me, do you?”

“Even if it were true, it matters not. She has left me.”

“Then go after her. You’ve never been one to sit back on your laurels and ignore something you want.”

Oliver made no move to leave.

“Seriously, man, why are you here with me when you could be chasing down the woman you love?”

Son of a bitch. It was true. He had fallen in love with his wife. Now he had to find the perfect way to tell her.

…

Harriet had sent the request for a meeting with Lady X. She’d asked that the mysterious woman join her at the Garner townhome. It was the perfect place, because she had access to weapons, should they become necessary, and it offered privacy which would hopefully lure the woman in.

For the last half hour, Harriet had paced the darkened corridor waiting for a knock at the front door. But nothing had come. She’d spent the time thinking about Oliver’s admission. He had to care something for her to make such an apology, to recognize that he didn’t want to see her unhappy. When she returned home, she’d have to tell him again how she felt. Make certain he understood that, for now, she had enough love for both of them.

A scraping sound came from above her. Was someone upstairs? Perhaps Lady X had come early and was lurking about trying to find additional information to use against the Ladies of Virtue.

That wouldn’t happen. Harriet grabbed a small lady’s cane that hid a delicate but lethal blade inside and quietly climbed the stairs. She’d never had need to use such a weapon before. Her great skill that she brought to the Ladies of Virtue had been her keen observation. She’d been able to step into a home and tell immediately if one of the servants was stealing. Still she did not know what to expect from such an adversary and she should be prepared.

She reached the top of the stairs, turned, and lost her footing. She grasped at the air, but caught nothing and instead fell, headfirst, down the long flight of stairs.

…

When Oliver hadn’t found Harriet at either their townhome or her brother’s, he went to the Garner to see if she and Agnes were practicing. Perhaps she had decided to move in there for the time being, until she decided what to do about their failed marriage. It was late, well past midnight, and the house was dark, but still he stepped into the foyer.

His heart stopped. Harriet lay in a crumpled heap at the base of the massive staircase. He moved as quickly as his damned leg would allow him to reach her and fell to his knees, despite the nearly crushing pain that seared through his knee and up his hip.

She was still breathing, which reminded him to do the same. He gasped for air. Her face was bruised and swollen, and one of her legs twisted, her ankle already discolored and twice its normal size. Oh God, no, not his Harriet.

While he’d never wish his constant pain and limitations on anyone, having to see his beloved Harriet struggle with such a thing would destroy him. He had to get her to safety. Get a doctor. Damned if he couldn’t even pick her up himself and carry her to safety.

He was worthless.

He hobbled himself to the door and called out. A young man passing by started and nearly ran off. But Oliver called him over, handed him a coin, and told him he’d double it if he went to his townhome and got several servants to come quickly. The boy rushed off in the direction of Oliver’s townhome. Thankfully it was only a block away.

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