“Are you?” she asked breathlessly, her heart filled with anticipation.
“I shall prove it,” he whispered as his lips covered hers. In an instant, all coherent thought flew from Harriett’s mind and only her senses remained. She reveled in the softness of his lips, the tickling of his moustache, and the taste of cinnamon on his breath. A tidal wave of sensations engulfed her, and the chill in the air became an inferno. Oh, how she loved to kiss this man. He made her life feel full and complete, and when he drew back abruptly moments later, she longed for more.
She searched his face in confusion. They had only just begun the kiss. Had he not enjoyed it? Did she not affect him the way he affected her? He could have never pulled away so quickly if she had.
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, peering down at her. “Harriett, there is something I must say to you.”
She nodded, feeling anxious, hopeful, and ill at the same time. Would her stomach ever feel normal around him?
“This morning you said that my constant teasing was growing tiresome and that you were ready to put an end to our ruse, but now you seem to have changed your mind.”
Harriett opened her mouth to explain, but he didn’t give her the chance. “I’m not sure why or what you’re thinking, but I agree that we should no longer pretend to feel something we do not. It was unfair of me to ask that of you, and I am sorry for it. I am also saddened that I went too far with my teasing and compromised whatever trust you had in me.”
“It is forgotten, Chris. Truly,” she said. “I said many things I did not mean either.”
“Yes, but…” He seemed to grapple with the words he wanted to say, and Harriett silently pled with him to say what her heart yearned to hear—that he could not clear his mind of her and that he wanted to walk with her, talk to her, and kiss her every day from this point forward.
Tell me you love me, she silently begged. Those were all the words she needed to hear.
He cleared his throat and swallowed before beginning anew. “What my mother said tonight was true. We do make a good team, and for the most part we get on well together, wouldn’t you say? I say that because… well, would you consider putting an end to our ruse and making it real?”
Harriett blinked at him. Make it real? A good team? They got on well together? Was this some sort of proposal? Her hopes deflated at the thought, leaving her aching with disappointment. He had said nothing about wanting or even needing her in his life, nor had he mentioned anything that led her to believe he truly cared for her. And he definitely had not said anything about love.
They simply made a good team. Hurrah.
“Perhaps I did not make myself clear,” he said, his brows drawn together in worry. “What I mean to say is… Harriett, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Needing to hear something of substance, Harriett pressed, “Why?”
He frowned as though he did not understand the question. “I thought I had already explained. We are a good fit, are we not?”
“A good fit?” she asked. “The way a certain saddle or hat or boots is a good fit?” Did he not hear how ridiculous and unromantic he sounded?
He smiled a little as though he found her question humorous. “Perhaps, but a saddle, boots, or a hat cannot pull you out of a pond or carry you into the house, can they? And they could never work together to solve a problem the way we have done. Perhaps it would be better to compare us to… a fork and a plate—both useful in their own right, but definitely better together.”
His eyes sparkled with mirth as though he’d made a clever joke, and Harriett felt a keen sense of disappointment settle over her. How many times had she dreamed of hearing a man she loved ask for her hand in marriage? So many times. But she had never pictured it as a humorous moment. She had pictured her heart thumping, her mind whirling, and her soul bursting with the most exquisite happiness imaginable.
And she had never once imagined herself on the verge of tears.
Harriett pulled her hands free and took a step back, hating that the beautiful evening she had envisioned had come to this. Every instinct told her to get away from him as quickly as possible, but she had determined to be honest with herself and him, and so she drew upon every ounce of courage she possessed and lifted her gaze to his. He deserved to know precisely why she would not be accepting his offer.
“You once told me,” she said, “that if you cannot love or desire a woman, marriage to her would be an unhappy experience. I found the sentiment admirable because I have always thought the same. More than anything, I want to love and desire a man, but it cannot be one-sided for me. I need to be loved and desired in return and will not settle for someone who only thinks we get on well together or that we make a good team. Perhaps that is the sensible thing to want, but I do not want sensible. I want a man who finds my oddities endearing, a man who complements my weaknesses with his strengths, a man who is willing to make a fool of himself over me because he cannot help himself. I want to be loved deeply and passionately by someone I love deeply and passionately in return.”
She glanced down at her trembling hands and clasped them together before lifting her gaze to his once more. “For a brief moment today, I thought I had finally found such a man, but I was wrong. So no, Lieutenant Jamison, I cannot marry you.”
Harriett’s tears remained unshed until that moment, when they began to leak out, falling down her cheeks like her own little rain shower. Feeling the last of her courage deplete, Harriett turned and fled, running as fast as she could. He called after her, but she did not stop. Nor did she pause to say goodnight to Cora or Jonathan as she rushed past. She ran directly to her room, where she closed her door on everything but her shattered heart.
Only then did she realize the pain in her ankle had returned with a vengeance.
CHRISTOPHER PAUSED AT THE top of the stairs, taking in the scene below him. Two footmen had just disappeared out the door carrying a trunk, and Harriett stood with Cora and Jonathan, wearing a rust-colored traveling dress with a matching bonnet. Christopher’s stomach clenched, and his fingers tightened around the railing.
Harriett was leaving?
For the hundredth time, he cursed himself for being a fool. All of his life, he’d maintained the confident, fun-loving, and care-for-nothing persona that came so easily to him. He could even be serious on occasion. But when it came to opening his heart, it felt like trying to pry up a stone floor.
On the eve of the day he’d reported for war duty, his mother and sisters had cried tears of sorrow while he remained facetious and seemingly unaffected. But he had not been unaffected. Far from it. He’d been petrified by the possibility that he would never see his family again. But had he conveyed as much to them? No. They did not know he’d questioned his decision a great many times or that he’d left with a lump in his throat at the thought of missing them. He had not even told them he loved them. Why? Because to admit such things was a weakness—or so he’d once thought.
Last night, as Harriett stood before him, radiating beauty and dignity as she opened her heart to him, he realized that burying one’s feelings wasn’t a show of strength. It was cowardice. And now he had no one but himself to blame for the scene playing out below him.
Voices rose to where he stood.
“I wish we could convince you to stay,” said Cora.
Harriett pulled her friend into a hug. “I shall never forget my time here. You have both been the most wonderful hosts, and I will always be grateful for the many kindnesses you have shown me. But it is time I stop delaying my life and move forward. The season is well underway, and Mother will be meeting me soon. I sent a note off to Charlotte this morning, telling her to expect me shortly.”
Cora nodded. “I understand, but I will miss you so.”
“And I you.” Harriett held her hand out to Jonathan. “I wish you all the best with your agricultural venture. When I visit next, I expect to see fields and fields of crops.”
“And so you
shall. I cannot thank you enough for your timely advice.”
“I’m just happy that it all worked out. Please convey my goodbyes to the Jamisons, along with the hope that our paths will cross at some point in London.”
“Are you certain you do not wish to tell them yourself?” Cora hedged.
“I think it best if I don’t.”
Watts opened the door and bowed, and Harriett paused to give his hand a grateful squeeze as well. “It has been a pleasure to know you, Watts.”
“And you, my lady.”
Christopher could stay still no longer. Harriett couldn’t leave like this, not before he had a chance to explain. With quick steps, he descended the stairs, calling out, “Wait,” as Harriett crossed over the threshold.
Her body stiffened, but she did not turn around. She did not even glance over her shoulder. She merely waited, as though being required to do something she was loathe to do.
“About blasted time,” Jonathan muttered as Christopher walked by.
He stepped past Harriett and stood before her, searching his head for something—anything to say that would keep her from getting in the coach.
Unfortunately, “You’re leaving?” was the only thing that came to mind.
“Yes,” she answered, fiddling with her gloves and refusing to look him in the eye.
“Harriett, I—” Christopher stopped, realizing how it would sound if he blurted out his love for her in that awkward moment. She would see it only as a desperate move on his part to win her back and would probably not realize he was in earnest. How could she at this point? He’d had his chance to reveal his feelings to her last night, and he’d taken the cowardly way out.
All this time, he had not understood her lack of trust in him, but as he stood before her ready to beg for it back once again, he realized it would not be enough. He had effectively destroyed it last night, and it would take a great deal more than desperate words and belated expressions of love to earn it back. It would take a miracle.
Christopher swallowed and forced himself to stand aside, leaving her with the only promise he could make. “I shall see you in London.”
Without looking up, she nodded and descended to the waiting coach. The door opened, revealing Tabby already inside, and closed as soon as Harriett joined her. As the coach pulled away from the house, the last view he glimpsed of her was the brim of her traveling bonnet shielding her eyes.
HARRIETT WASTED NO TIME throwing herself into the London scene. She arrived at her sister’s lavish townhouse two days later and insisted on accompanying Charlotte to a dinner party that very evening. Tabby dressed her in a peach silk gown, styled her hair beautifully, and Harriett breezed into the party with a winsome smile. She flirted outrageously, laughed at every opportunity she could, and pretended as though her heart had not been trampled upon.
The following morning, she entertained several callers, many of them gentlemen, paid a visit to her London modiste, and graciously accepted an invitation to drive with Mr. Hedgewick in the park. News quickly spread of her arrival, and within a day or two, invitations arrived with her name on them as well, albeit with only one T.
At the end of the week, her mother, Colin, and Lucy arrived, along with their new little son, Samuel. Harriett doted on the boy, stealing away to the nursery every spare moment she could. Who could resist a baby, after all? He snuggled into her arms without conditions or reservations, and oh, how she needed his sweet show of affection. The world would be a different place if everyone could love so openly.
Lucy happened upon Harriett in the nursery one afternoon and smiled. “I find you in here often and hear you have taken quite a liking to little Samuel.”
“How could I not?” said Harriett, clutching the sweet baby to her bosom. “I do not understand how you can bear to leave him for even a moment.”
Lucy dragged over a chair and took a seat next to Harriett, eyeing her friend with a look of concern. “You hide it well, but you cannot fool me. You seem sad, as though something—or more likely, someone—has disappointed or hurt you. What has happened?”
Harriett kissed Samuel’s forehead, wishing she had done a better job of hiding her emotions. Only yesterday, her mother had made a similar observation, but Harriett had not been ready to talk about it then and had dismissed the claim as nonsensical. But now, holding a guileless infant in her arms, she could not fib so easily.
Harriett sighed and rested her head against the back of the rocker. “I’ve experienced a little heartbreak, is all. But you may rest assured that I am on the mend.”
“Are you?” Lucy asked.
Samuel made a sound in his sleep, and Harriett smiled. “I hope so. This little man is helping me tremendously.”
“I’m glad.” Lucy played with the folds of her skirt, looking as though she wanted to say something more but wasn’t sure if she should.
“What is on your mind, sister dear?” said Harriett. “You know I prefer frank speech.”
Lucy continued to fiddle with her skirts, but after a few moments, she released the fabric and smoothed her palms across the top. “I’m only wondering if the cause for your heartbreak is the man you mentioned a time or two in your letters. Lieutenant… Jamison, wasn’t it?”
Harriett nodded. “Yes, but I would prefer not to dwell on him any longer.”
Lucy tapped a finger to her lower lip and gazed at the far corner of the room, her brow furrowed in thought. “Er… Suppose a rather interesting posy arrived for you with the lieutenant’s name on the card. Would you prefer to be informed of it or would you rather it go away unnoticed?”
Harriett ceased rocking, and her heart thumped and bumped inside her chest, loud enough to wake the baby. “He sent me a posy?”
Lucy shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable. “Yes. Was I right to tell you?”
“Of course,” said Harriett, feeling nervous and clammy all of a sudden. “Was only his name on the card?”
“On the front, yes, but perhaps he added a message to the back? Would you like me to retrieve it for you?”
“No, I…” Harriett did not know what she wanted. Part of her desperately wished to see it and another part wanted to have it sent away. Simply hearing his name had undone what little peace she had struggled to find since coming to London. What would seeing a posy with his name attached do to her? Why had he sent it? Was it an apology or a farewell gift?
What did she want it to mean?
As though sensing her agitation, Samuel began to stir and fuss. Lucy held out her arms for her son and asked, “May I?”
Harriett nodded, but as soon as she’d relinquished her hold on the baby, she felt exposed and vulnerable. There was no attempting to hide her feelings now.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. When she had first come to London, she had held onto the hope that Christopher did love her in some way and would find a way to prove it to her. But almost a fortnight had come and gone with no word from him, and that hope had begun to fade. Was there something left to hope for, or was she doomed to experience even more disappointment and pain?
“Go,” whispered Lucy. “Then tell me what he means by it. As I said before, the posy is quite… interesting.”
Harriett rose slowly and went down, dragging her slippers the entire way. The side table in the great hall contained a small assortment of posies and bouquets, and she recognized the lieutenant’s immediately. It appeared plain and pitiable next to the others, but the memories it brought to Harriett’s mind were anything but plain or pitiable.
She walked over to it and gingerly touched the young and tender oak limbs that held a smattering of tiny, star-like leaves, all tied together with a gold ribbon. A calling card was tucked inside, revealing the printed name of Lieutenant Christopher Jamison. She flipped it over to find a short message on the back.
To new beginnings?
—Chris
New beginnings? Harriett’s forehead crinkled, and she bit her lower lip. What did he mean by that
? Was he wishing her a new beginning without him in her life, or was he saying he wanted a new beginning with her? Perhaps he was merely referring to the newly sprouted leaves and spring.
Goodness, could the man be any more cryptic?
Harriett sank down on a nearby chair and stared at the card. Perhaps she should not have left Tanglewood in such a rush, leaving things between them so unfinished. But how could she not have run at the time? Her heart had never experienced such pain, and she could not bear to stay.
Ever since her arrival in London, she had searched parlors, drawing rooms, parks, and ballrooms for a glimpse of the lieutenant. When the butler announced a caller, she’d held her breath, hoping to hear his name and then be disappointed when it was someone else. She had wanted him to follow her here and fight for her, but every day that had come and gone with no communication left her feeling less and less hopeful.
And now a sorry little posy arrives with the message, To new beginnings? What in the world was she supposed to think of that? She needed a reason to hope or a reason to let go—not a blasted riddle.
Harriett stood and walked up to her room, where she tossed the oak branches on her dressing table and frowned at them until the time came for her to dress for her afternoon drive with Sir William. From the moment he arrived and helped her into his dashing curricle, she could not concentrate on a word he spoke. Now that she knew the lieutenant was in London, her eyes darted about, searching for him, trying to think of what she would say if she saw him. She had to ask Sir William numerous times to repeat what he’d just said, and by the time he returned her to Curzon Street, his curt behavior told Harriett that she would not be invited to drive with him again anytime soon.
At the door, she wished him well and silently cursed the lieutenant’s name.
On Tuesday, a peach parasol arrived for her in the afternoon—the same parasol Chris had given to her after her humiliating encounter with the bird droppings. She’d left it behind on purpose, not wanting the reminder of him, but now it was back in her possession, along with another note.
The Pursuit of Lady Harriett (Tanglewood Book 3) Page 19