Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Harriet had attended dinners at Denham Park for as long as she could remember.
She knew which chair in the drawing room had a weakened leg, which footman would overfill a wineglass if distracted, and precisely how long Lady Denham would tolerate the men remaining over their port before sending someone to fetch them.
Familiarity ought to have made the evening easier.
It did not.
Nothing appeared changed, and yet everything had.
The drawing room was the same, with its pale walls and dark portraits, but Harriet entered not simply as a guest, as a friend and neighbor.
She entered it bearing the weight of exception as Benedict's future wife.
The servants knew it. Their parents knew it.
Her sister knew it and had spent the better part of an hour before their departure staring at Harriet as if marriage might have altered her appearance already.
Only Benedict appeared untouched by the strangeness of it.
He stood beside the hearth speaking with their respective fathers, his evening coat fitted across shoulders she had no business noticing.
When he looked up, his attention found her immediately.
That had happened often enough in the past. Until the previous day, Harriet had never wondered why.
He crossed the room to greet her. “I had thought you might not beg off,” he said, his tone low enough that the others could not hear. The faint curve at one corner of his mouth suggested he knew precisely how absurd the observation was.
Harriet refused to permit him the advantage of seeing her discomfort. “I considered it, but to what avail? I had understood this dinner was to formally announce our impending marriage. It would have been rather difficult to accomplish that had I remained at Alderley.”
“With you, there is always some doubt,” Benedict replied. His gaze moved over her face with a concentration that made her newly conscious of the gown she wore and of the pulse beating at the base of her throat. “You look very well tonight, Harriet.”
It was an ordinary compliment, politely offered.
Harriet had received dozens during her season and forgotten most of them before the speaker moved away.
From Benedict, it felt dangerously specific.
She glanced toward the fire rather than answer the expression in his eyes.
“And you look much as you always do. I am sure you will find it reassuring that the mere prospect of matrimony has not yet produced any visible deterioration.”
“Very reassuring. Though I confess I had hoped the prospect of becoming my wife might render you a little kinder.” His amusement deepened when she looked at him. “I begin to understand that I have entered this arrangement with an unreasonable expectation.”
“Then it is fortunate we discovered it before the settlements were signed.” Harriet looked past him to where Lady Denham was speaking with her sister. “Who else is expected? Your mother has arranged the room as if half the county might descend upon us at any moment.”
“No one. She felt a private family dinner would be most appropriate. I believe she is also determined to conclude the matter before either of us recovers sufficiently from yesterday to object.” Benedict offered his arm, then inclined his head toward a table near the windows.
“The first draft of the settlements arrived this afternoon. If you would rather examine them before dinner, they are there.”
Harriet placed her hand upon his sleeve.
She had taken his arm before at dinners, assemblies and church gatherings.
It had never seemed an intimate act. Now she felt the warmth of him through the fine wool and remembered the clasp of his hand around hers in the estate room.
He had felt that moment as she had. Whatever else had been uncertain between them, she was certain of that.
He led her to a small table near the windows where several folded pages had been arranged.
Harriet read them while Benedict stood beside her.
The eastern farms and south meadow would be settled upon her for her sole use during her lifetime, then upon any children born of their marriage.
An unlikely occurrence as she’d insisted upon separate rooms.The income would be paid into an account to which she would have access.
Neither her father nor Benedict could sell or mortgage the land without the agreement of the trustees, one of whom Harriet would be permitted to nominate.
It was more than most husbands would have granted. It was more than her father had ever permitted her.
“You had this drawn up in a day?” she asked.
“The first draft. There may be changes after your solicitor reviews it.”
“My solicitor?” Harriet placed one hand over the page to prevent its edge from trembling beneath her fingers. “I was not aware that I possessed one.”
“You do not yet. My father's man has been instructed to recommend someone with no prior connection to either family. Whoever is chosen will represent you rather than Lord Alderley or me.” Benedict had moved a discreet distance away while she read, as though he understood that his presence at her shoulder might make the generosity of the provisions feel like another pressure.
“You should not be required to accept my assurance that the agreement is fair when its purpose is to provide you with some measure of independence from me.”
The words went directly to the wound she had tried to conceal since learning of her father's debts. “You truly mean to do this fairly,” she said, regretting the admission as soon as it escaped her. It revealed too plainly how little fairness she had expected.
Benedict did not pretend to misunderstand.
His expression remained composed, but she was beginning to recognize how much effort that composure sometimes concealed.
“I mean to do it in a manner you can live with, Harriet. I cannot alter the circumstances which made the marriage necessary, but I have no intention of using them to render you powerless.”
Before she could answer, the butler announced Sir Thomas Selby.
Every person in the room went still. Selby entered as though his presence had been requested, properly dressed and wearing the same agreeable expression he had worn at Alderley.
Only Harriet had heard the contempt beneath it.
She drew her hand from Benedict's arm, but he caught her fingers before she could step away.
The touch was brief. It steadied her all the same.
Lord Denham advanced. “This is a family dinner, Selby.”
“Then I must apologize for the intrusion. I called at Alderley and was told the family had come here. As my business concerns Lord Alderley and cannot be delayed, I took the liberty of following.” His gaze passed over Harriet before settling upon Benedict.
“I had not heard there was cause for celebration.”
Lady Denham answered before anyone else could. “Lord Benedict and Miss Aldridge are to be married. It will be a formal alliance between Denham and Alderley at long last.”
Selby's surprise was genuine, though it vanished almost at once. “How very sudden.”
“Not to those who know them,” Lady Denham replied.
Harriet would have disputed that under any other circumstances.
She remained silent now because Selby was looking at her with an interest she did not like.
He had known she was unmarried. He had known her father's ruin would damage whatever prospects remained to her. It dawned on her, in that moment, how he’d planned to fully seize control of the estate itself.
He would have extorted her father to force a marriage between them.
It was evident in the proprietary way he stared at her.
At length, Selby bowed to her. “You must permit me to offer my felicitations, Miss Aldridge The match is an admirable one and provides a most fortunate resolution to your father's difficulties.”
There was insult in the words, neatly concealed. Harriet felt Benedict's attention shift toward her, but she did not require rescue from a veiled slight.
“For Denham as well,” she replied. “The eastern land will remain intact, the water rights protected and improvements made before spring planting. Everyone benefits save the person who intended to profit from its decline.”
Her father uttered her name in warning. Selby's smile did not alter.
“You have always possessed a lively understanding of matters beyond the usual concerns of young ladies,” Selby said. “One might almost suppose Lord Alderley trained you to be his steward rather than prepared you to become another gentleman's wife.”
“There is nothing extraordinary in possessing an interest in one's home. I should think it stranger if I had lived my entire life at Alderley without caring whether its tenants were secure or its fields properly managed.”
“But it will not be your home much longer, will it?” Selby delivered the question gently, as though offering sympathy rather than pressing a blade into the most vulnerable part of her.
“Whatever provisions are made for the land, you will naturally reside here after the marriage. I hope you find the exchange a comfortable one.”
The words struck harder than Harriet wished them to.
Alderley would belong to whatever distant relative could be found to inherit the viscounty, but she would live at Denham.
Her rooms, her routines and the small freedoms she had carved out beneath her father's roof would be gone.
Selby saw that he had wounded her. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
Benedict stepped beside her. He did not touch her again, but his nearness felt like a declaration.
“The eastern acreage will be settled upon Harriet. She will oversee its management with me and will be consulted upon every decision affecting it. I advise you to address your questions to its future holder.”