Chapter 3 #3
Harriet opened the folded page. “We will be honest with one another about anything which affects the estates. You will not conceal financial matters because you believe them beyond my understanding, and I will not interfere with Denham business which does not touch Alderley without first speaking to you.”
“I accept the principle, though I reserve the right to object when you define every hedge, drain and tenant dispute within ten miles as a matter affecting Alderley.”
Harriet ignored the interruption and continued. “We will not quarrel publicly. If that proves beyond us, we will at least refrain from humiliating one another merely to win an argument.”
His brows rose. “That may be beyond us.”
“Then we will not humiliate one another publicly. Disagreement is not humiliation.”
“That is sensibly drawn. I have no objection to disagreement, Harriet. I have never wished to silence you, whatever you may believe. I would only prefer that you not eviscerate me before the county unless I have earned it.”
Her confidence faltered when she reached the next provision. “I will have my own chamber. I know we spoke of it yesterday, but I wish the arrangement to be clearly understood rather than left to custom.”
The amusement vanished. Benedict rested one hand upon the desk. “You asked me that yesterday.”
“And you answered me. I repeat it now because too much of marriage is considered understood when only one person has ever been permitted to define the terms.”
“Then let it be understood. You will have rooms of your own and the right to close the door between them whenever you choose. I gave you my word yesterday, and I do not withdraw it because the wedding is now three days nearer.”
The roughness had returned to his voice. Harriet was abruptly aware of the closed door, the quiet room and the breadth of the desk separating them. “There is one other matter.”
His attention sharpened. “I suspected there might be. You have not looked at the final line of that page once since I entered the room.”
“I know what marriage ordinarily requires.” She forced herself to hold his gaze. “I will not be compelled.”
Something flared in his expression—not anger with her, she thought, but anger all the same. Benedict moved around the desk until only a few feet remained between them. “Did you believe I would force you?”
“I did not say that, nor do I believe it. But the circumstance has placed every other condition of this marriage beyond my control, and I will not leave the most intimate one to implication simply to spare either of us an uncomfortable conversation.”
He looked away, his jaw tightening. When he spoke again, the anger had gone from his voice.
“Then let there be no implication between us. I will not enter your chamber unless you invite me, and I will not touch you unless you wish it. You will never be required to purchase the security of Alderley with your presence in my bed.”
The plainness of the words sent a tremor through her. “And if I never do?”
His gaze returned to hers. “Then I will keep my word. I will never force you, but eventually, we will have to come to an understanding. There must be an heir. If there is not, why would we make this sacrifice for estates that will go to strangers?”
Harriet considered his response carefully.
It was within his right to demand it of her, but he would not.
And she understood the necessity of an heir, of ensuring the continuation of both Denham Park and the small piece of Alderley that would be hers.
Enough time in the countryside had left her with at least working knowledge of how a child was conceived.
But theoretical knowledge and practiced experience were very different things.
And trying to imagine such a thing with him was having a very strange effect upon her.
Benedict was close enough that she could see the faint shadow along his jaw and the pulse beating steadily at his throat. She imagined, entirely against her will, what it might be to have his hands upon her because she had asked it of him.
His attention dropped briefly to her mouth.
The movement was so slight she might have missed it if she had not been watching him with equal care.
The air between them changed. Nothing had happened.
Nothing could happen while their families sat a few rooms away discussing wedding clothes and breakfast menus.
Yet Harriet felt poised at the edge of something that had been waiting beneath every quarrel they had ever had.
“Mutual desire, then,” she said, though her voice did not sound quite like her own.
“Mutual desire,” he repeated. His voice had lowered, and the look in his eyes made the phrase feel far less like a legal provision than she had intended. “That is a term I can accept without reservation.”
He did not step closer. Harriet was grateful for that and strangely resentful of it. She folded her list because her hands required occupation. “Those are my terms.”
“I accept them.” Benedict offered his arm to escort her back to the others. “Though I reserve the right to negotiate amendments.”
Harriet placed her hand upon his sleeve. “You may attempt it.”
This time he smiled. “There she is.”