Chapter 6
“No.” Lady Harriet’s eyes widened even as her words cut through Theodore like a knife through butter.
Anger, sadness, frustration and confusion warred within him, each clawing at him, desperate to be let out. It took every ounce of his strength to keep his face a carefully controlled mask.
As soon as he had seen her eyes widen at his approach, seen the color drain from her face, something had shifted within him. He had come to her to ask for her hand, if only for Phoebe’s sake.
He had thought that asking her father would just be a formality, that it would mean nothing. No.
His fought to keep his thoughts from his face and focused on Lady Harriet instead, trying to think of something to say.
Sunlight streamed through the window, and he noticed her lips curve slightly, her eyes glittering.
It reminded him of the banks of a river on a hot summer’s day. Why is it so hard to think? “Why?”
The question came out harsher than he intended, but to his surprise, Lady Harriet did not recoil. “Your Grace, you hardly know me.”
“I know enough.” Theodore countered as he saw her arch an eyebrow at him. “I know what matters at least.”
“And what is that exactly?” Lady Harriet folded her arms across her chest. “How can you know anything when we have only met once before? When I have only met Phoebe for a few moments?”
“And yet you and I spoke for far longer.” He kept his voice low, not wanting to risk the maid overhearing. “There are people who marry each other after years of courtship and yet they find they scarcely know each other, simply the idea of one another. What makes this any different?”
Lady Harriet shifted her weight and sighed. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is.” Theodore shrugged. “If you become my duchess, you will gain the kind of status, power and wealth that most people only dream of.”
“And is that what you think matters to me?” Though her tone was soft, her eyes widened and her chin lifted in understated anger.
“No.” He studied her, trying to choose his next words carefully. “I think it is something else which drives you, Lady Harriet. But that does not change the fact that our union would offer you peace. You would never have to worry about your future again.”
He saw her fingers twitch as he said the word ‘peace’. Why was that? Surely a well-off young noblewoman had more than her fill of peace. “You have my word that I will ensure you are taken care of for the rest of your life. In return, you will give Phoebe what she needs.”
“And what is that?” Lady Harriet tilted her head towards him.
“A mother,” Theodore said simply.
“But I do not know the first thing about being a parent!” Lady Harriet exclaimed. “I could be a complete disaster for all you know.”
“I doubt that. I know a thing or two about poor parents.” He heard the swish of a willow switch whipping through the air in his mind.
For a moment, the room around them faded. He was a small boy again, standing in front of a large, cold man.
His father gripped his left hand in his. Pain spread across the back of his hand, blood pooling where his father had struck him.
“If I catch you writing with your left hand, doing anything with that hand, I will break every finger on it.” His father’s voice was cold and dispassionate as though he were merely pointing out a speck of dirt on a vase. “If you are too stupid to control yourself, I will take the option away.”
Theodore forced his mind back to the present, a thumb tracing the back of his hand as he focused on Harriet. He kept the memory from his face. “You are not that sort of person.”
Lady Harriet opened and closed her mouth several times, but said nothing. Several beats of silence passed and she began to pace. Theodore watched her movement curiously, but did not press her.
After a long while, she gripped the back of a sofa, glanced towards the maid and took a step closer to him, her own voice low. The scent of cinnamon and honey washed over him. “What about you? What do you get out of this whole arrangement?”
To keep my promises. He canted his head towards her, taking in her searching gaze. “What are you really asking?”
“Is this marriage for Phoebe alone or for you as well?” Her words came out in a rush, and the bluntness surprised him almost as much as it appeared to surprise her.
“I am not sure.” The words fell from his mouth before he could stop them, making him frown.
He caught a flash of emotion streak across Lady Harriet’s face, but it was gone too fast for him to understand.
I cannot help but wonder if Phoebe is the only reason for your haste.
Percival’s words swam into his mind, and he felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck as he shoved the thought away.
Lady Harriet’s gaze was a physical touch on his face and added, “I suppose there may be some benefits to having a duchess beyond what you offer to Phoebe. A level of respectability, that sort of thing.”
To his surprise, Lady Harriet’s lips pursed, her eyes narrowing slightly, but the expression did not last. She replaced it with a more neutral look so quickly that Theodore wondered if he had been mistaken.
“I see.” Lady Harriet tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Theodore followed the motion with his eyes, his gaze drawn to the soft curve of her neck. “What exactly are you offering me, Your Grace?”
There was steel in her eyes that took him by surprise. There is more to you than I thought. He nodded slowly, negotiations were more familiar ground. This was a world he understood. “Are you asking for my terms, Lady Harriet?”
“Terms would imply my agreement; I will not give it without understanding what I am agreeing to,” she replied.
Then you might yet agree. He kept the blare of hope from his face, he knew too well how emotion could startle someone away.
“As I said, my proposal is simple. You would be my Duchess, you would join me and Phoebe. You would spend most of your time at my country estate – Irondale Hall. I do not care for London, and Phoebe likes it even less than I do.” He did not bother to hide the curl of his lip as he said it.
He saw Harriet’s shoulders relax and felt the corners of his mouth quirk upwards. “I take it you share our sentiments.”
She smiled at him briefly, but it was enough to give him the sensation of stepping into thin air when one was expecting a step. “I like the quiet of the country. I find London a little crowded and overwhelming. I miss the sound of nature whenever I am here for the season.”
“Then life at Irondale Hall would suit you well. It is quiet, save for birdsong in the mornings.” Her smile shifted at his words. For a moment, he’d seen genuine pleasure there, before the corners of her mouth drooped and something about her smile became… practiced. Maybe even forced.
It was as though a cloud had drawn across the sun, and Theodore found himself stepping towards her, trying to catch her eye. “I have heard artists draw inspiration from such things.”
A flicker, like a candle trying to spark into life. He seized on it.
"Your art matters to Phoebe; it is my hope you might share more of it with her. That you will encourage her in her studies, that she will come to see you as a role model of sorts. When you are not with her, you will be free to do as you wish so long as it is not disreputable.”
The candle was extinguished as Lady Harriet folded her arms across her chest, her chin tilted towards him in defiance. He had the feeling of stepping into a snare that had not yet drawn tight, he focused on making his lips a neutral line, his dark eyes hard.
“And if I chose to do something so unladylike as riding?” He heard the triumph in her voice, though something else lurked just beneath it that he could not place.
His heart quickened; she was testing him.
There is that fire. “You may ride if you wish, though I shall have to speak to the stablemaster about a suitable mount. We have few mares in the stables.”
“I can handle a stallion.” Her cheeks flushed as she met his gaze. “I mean – I am an experienced rider, so long as I have the right tack, I will be fine.”
“Then I shall see it arranged. You should ensure that you have suitable attire for such things commissioned as part of your bridal wardrobe. I will cover the costs, of course.” He paused and added, “That is if you accept my proposal.
“You make it sound as though I have a choice.” He heard a bitterness in her words and caught himself leaning towards her.
He held himself in place, but could not bring himself to step back as he murmured, “You do.”
“I find that difficult to believe.” She looked up at him, one eyebrow arched as she snorted in a most indelicate manner.
From most people, such a noise would border on disgraceful, but to Theodore’s surprise, he found the display of emotion rather endearing.
A fleeting image of Rose, snorting across the dinner table as he said something she found amusing, crossed his mind, snapped away by his Father’s sharp reprimand. His blood froze.
“I have already said ‘no’ and you are still here.” Harriet’s eyes danced in the light. “Do not insult me by pretending you will give me a choice in this.”
Her anger melted the ice in his veins; he stepped towards her. “This is no pretense, Lady Harriet. I am no jailer. I will not force you. I came here seeking your Father’s consent as is only proper. No contract is made between us, you may still walk away.”
Lady Harriet appeared to wrestle with several emotions at once, and found himself wondering just what she was thinking. “You would let me walk away.”
“Yes.” But I hope you will not.
Harriet glanced from him to the door and back again; Theodore’s chest tightened, but he did not move towards her. He counted the beats of his heart as he watched her face. One.
Her hands flexed, but she did not move. “You make it all sound so easy. Marry you, be your Duchess and I will want for nothing.” Something flickered across her face, almost like regret. “So long as you get your respectability and Phoebe gets her mother.”