Chapter Seven #2
Everything she had listed—his money, his servants, his carriages, of which there were actually four—seemed like an asset.
Some perverse part of him wanted her to admit that she looked down on him because he was a bastard, no matter how sickly his older brother might be.
Despite her own family’s ill repute, she surely thought herself to be above an illegitimate second son.
Or was it something else? Even if he was not her desired partner in matrimony, surely some small part of her was enamored of him?
“Sadly, you have dropped even further in my esteem, my lord, as you were the one to finally provide me with the drink. Thus, I must lay all blame squarely at your feet.” Her eyes were twinkling a little; Alexander had the strangest feeling that she might be flirting with him.
He ignored the small bell that pealed inside of his chest, warning him.
“Your father won’t acquiesce to you marrying me? I assure you I’m quite persuasive.”
“That I believe.”
Alexander found himself quietly thrilled by that statement, for some reason.
“Why, may I ask, do you assume he’d refuse my suit?
If I were to offer, which—although the end of last evening is a little fuzzy—I do not recall doing.
I’ll remind you that I am the son of a duke.
” Alexander braced himself to hear that his bastard blood was too dirty for Lord Tidewell’s pure, sweet princess of a daughter.
“Regardless of your parentage, you’ll have a difficult time getting permission for my hand from my father—” Here it came, the truth of the matter: His parentage was an issue for her, and her father as well. “—as he is … well … in absentia.”
Alexander’s attention returned to her a little late.
“In absentia?”
“Yes, he’s … well, he’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“I haven’t a clue. I’m afraid he’s missing.”
“Your father is missing?”
“Is there something I’m not explaining well? I’m normally quite good with words.” He had no doubt about that, the woman clearly enjoyed talking.
“And your mother?”
“I presume she’s still in the parish cemetery.” Harriet said it casually, but her entire body stiffened.
A knock on the door interrupted Alexander’s lack of response.
“Come in,” Harriet called out and Miss Evans entered again with a tray laden with food.
She lingered for much longer than it should have taken to deposit a tray, making sheep’s eyes at Alexander. Harriet pursed her lips in poorly concealed annoyance, and Alexander allowed himself to feel warmed by that. Perhaps she was more interested in him than she let on.
As soon as Miss Evans left, Harriet tucked into their breakfast. He was never so grateful for coddled eggs; the interruption in her speech gave him time to think.
And to finish dressing. Even if the clothing she provided wasn’t meant to be traveled in, at least it didn’t smell of perspiration and liquor.
He felt sorry Harriet didn’t have her own change of clothes, but he didn’t mind the sight of her in that white dress.
He turned his mind back to their elopement-abduction. “We could annul,” he suggested, grabbing a cravat and trying his best to tie it without the aid of a valet or a looking glass.
“No,” she said simply. He waited for her to continue, which of course she did. “If we were to annul, I’d be ruined, which is precisely what I’m trying to avoid. Besides, you can annul a marriage only in instances of fraud, incompetence, and impotence.”
“Surely a kidnapping counts as fraud.”
“I don’t believe it does, as we were in your carriage and you haven’t stopped our journey. Who would believe that I overpowered both you and your driver?”
Alexander had enough experience with women to know that the correct answer was not: “Anyone who’d spent seven minutes in your company.”
“Charleston is on my side of things anyway, I’m afraid; he’s quite the romantic.
You could claim fraud if I didn’t come with the dowry you expected; however, you already know I don’t have one, and more to the point, the entire ton does too.
So then, I must be the one to find fault in you.
You would have to claim to own something that you do not, which is rather difficult as you own half the country, and furthermore leads us back to issues of reputation.
” She paused for breath. “Neither of us can claim incompetence. Which leaves us with impotence!” Harriet had picked up her pace throughout the speech and by the end clearly felt rather delighted with herself. Bloody hell.
“Shall we testify that you are impotent?”
“No,” he grumbled, not quite as delighted as she was with her lecture.
“It’s a relatively simple process. We stay together for three years, and so long as we don’t consummate the marriage, and I remain … intact … then we can apply for it. Of course, you’d have to go in front of the court-appointed courtesans and make clear that you cannot …”
Her hesitancy amused Alexander. He gave up on tying the cravat well and simply knotted it.
“That I cannot what?” He hoped he sounded both casual and ignorant enough for her to continue her spiel.
“Well, I don’t know what it means precisely but”—Harriet gulped—“from what I read …”
“Yes?” He turned to watch her face.
“A man must prove that he can’t … function … when presented with … stimulus.” Harriet blushed an enticing shade of pink.
“I suppose that rules out an annulment. I’m afraid I’m quite functional, my dear.” Harriet shivered slightly at his use of a pet name, and he smirked.
“You could act as if you aren’t.”
“I’m really not sure that I could. Beyond that, I have quite a licentious reputation, as you have pointed out. I fail to see how it would benefit me to be separated from you yet publicly known to be impotent. Rather defeats the point of being unwed, doesn’t it?”
“Well then, we’re to be wed.” Harriet clapped her hands together once again, as if she’d settled the matter to her satisfaction. Only the tightness of her mouth spoke to any trepidation she felt.
“All right,” Alexander conceded. The dratted woman seemed to have won.
Now that he’d ostensibly removed her from London in his carriage, there was no possibility of salvaging either of their reputations without a wedding.
“But it will be a marriage in name only,” Alexander clarified.
The church and the newspapers and society could recognize the marriage; it didn’t mean the two of them had to.
It wasn’t the ideal solution, but it was the best at hand.
And his years in business had taught him that taking action was better than waiting for perfection.
“I’m hardly the type of woman to lower herself to begging for your affections,” Harriet retorted, and Alexander did his best to ignore the sting of her words. He was not enjoying this portion of their banter; Alexander liked being on good terms with women.
“It’s only, I do not intend for any sort of romantic attachment to form between us. Ever.” He knew this was a harsh directive, but better to set expectations from the start. God forbid she enter this arrangement expecting flowers or letters or love. Or worse, poems.
“I truly had not considered the possibility,” Harriet said, looking almost bored with the topic. “I’ll do my best to bear an heir as expediently as possible and then we may remove ourselves from each other’s lives.”
“There will be no heir.”
Harriet’s face looked as if she’d been slapped. Admittedly, his tone could have been a degree less absolute. Only, he didn’t want to leave any room for negotiation. There was none. Emotions passed across her face that he did his best not to read.
Harriet paused before speaking again. “No heir?” was all she came up with.
“I will have no children, which means, I’m afraid, you will have no children. Unless I die, of course, in which case you are freed of this contract and may procreate at will.”
“How generous of you,” Harriet said, tersely. Despite his efforts not to notice, he could tell she was unhappy with these rules.
He couldn’t linger too long on robbing her of children, though.
Nor could he promise to raise her bastard.
Least of all could he bend his principles and entertain having children with her.
The image of such came unbidden to his mind: babies with sticky hands, children with wild energy like he and John had had as boys, their eyes gray and their minds precocious from their mother.
“Additionally—” he began, cutting the fantasy off at its knees.
“Are you incapable?” At his no doubt evident confusion, she clarified: “Are you incapable of producing children?”
Allow me to demonstrate just how capable I am. The thought came immediately, perhaps born from years of innuendo, but there was also something heavy and appealing about the idea. Being in a bedroom with this woman for this long was not good for him.