Her Rogue, page 33
“It appears to me as if this relationship between you and Ben is an important matter.”
Harriet glared at Peyton, wondering when he’d decided to become the bane of her existence. He simply grinned in return.
Taviston leaned forward. “This is a complicated situation.”
“Yes, it is,” Harriet exclaimed, relieved to hear reason at last.
“Saunders is likely to fight you,” Taviston said. “Which means he will bring up the affair. Have you considered that marriage will quell the scandal and possibly make your case stronger?”
She lifted her chin, thankful she’d already spoken to Mr. Dillon. “Marriage will ensure that I am removed as guardian for all my children. That’s the law.”
Taviston did not seem impressed with her argument. “However, a stable home life—and no scandal—might convince the court to give me custody. I, in turn, would allow you to raise the children.”
She squeezed her hands into fists. “I cannot marry him!”
“Why not?” This from Peyton, of course.
Inhaling deeply, Harriet searched for calm among the shards of her frustration. Ticking off her fingers, she explained, “I am a decade older than him. I have four children to raise. He is far too young to marry. He is the son of a steward or, if he continues the pretense, a tutor, neither of whom is a suitable husband for the daughter of a duke and the widow of a viscount. Marrying him would keep the scandal alive. Marrying him would jeopardize my guardianship of my children.” She glared at each of them in turn. “There are all the reasons I cannot marry him. Are you satisfied?”
Peyton leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands over his middle. “Correct me if I am wrong, dear brothers, but I don’t believe I heard a single word about not caring for Ben. That would seem to be the most relevant reason for not marrying a man and yet, there was no mention of not loving him.”
She looked to Taviston because of the three of them, he was the most practical and least sentimental. At his questioning cocked eyebrow, however, she remembered that he was madly in love with his duchess, Victoria. God save her from these soft-hearted fools.
“It pains me to say it, but Peyton is right,” he said, confirming his betrayal.
“My feelings, or lack thereof, regarding Ben are irrelevant. Can we please return to the matter at hand? To be clear, that would be the custody of my children.”
“The thing is,” Taviston said, resting his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands, “we want you to be happy.” The other two nodded in agreement. “Though we certainly will always respect your decisions, according to society, you’ve done your duty. You married a respected viscount, gave him an heir, and conducted yourself with propriety while he was alive. If you choose to marry again, I would hope you would do so only for the sake of love and pleasure. You do not owe anyone anything more.”
“This may shock you, but I agree with him.” Peyton lifted a shoulder. “While I did not marry because of love, I am thankful every day I discovered it with Tessa. Love is... Well, I have a feeling it’s different for each of us, but I can’t imagine denying myself the chance to love or to be loved. Life is too short to not seize every opportunity for happiness.”
James angled his body toward her. “In a more practical vein, I would like to point out that I am twenty-five years of age, and I am marrying my beloved in two days. Therefore, Ben cannot possibly be too young to marry. Did he propose to you?”
“Yes, all right!” Harriet jumped to her feet, unable to bear this onslaught of sentimentality. She circled behind the sofa and gripped the mahogany edge. “He has asked twice, and I have refused him twice. Are the three of you really telling me you would have no issue with me accepting a man ten years younger than myself?”
They looked round at each other, and all shrugged. It was James, though, who planted a knee on the sofa cushion and leaned against the back of it, drawing her eye. “We want you to be happy. That is all. But even if we did care about the age difference or his station in life or whatever your other excuses are, why should you pay us any mind? It’s your life, Hattie. Only you can live it.”
“Exactly.” She breathed easier for the first time since they reconvened. She could not spend another minute talking or thinking about Ben. The man who had found and returned her son, possibly at great cost to himself, though she would ask Taviston to help mitigate any consequences later. “I want to regain custody of my children. Will you help me?”
“Of course.”
“Without a doubt.”
“We would do anything for you.”
They all agreed, but disappointment lurked on each of their faces. To herself, she would admit that same feeling lodged in her chest. She couldn’t muster the courage to take a chance. It was better—easier—to focus on her family.
“I have further information about Saunders that should help my case.”
Before she could explain what Ben found, the double doors opened again.
“Harriet.” Penelope limped into the room, stopping short when she noticed the three men. She nodded once, seeming to remember who they were, then directed her attention back to Harriet. “You will not believe what that man has done.”
She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to know.
“He signed Everleigh Grove over to me.”
Harriet crossed her arms, gripping her sides, trying to hold herself together. She could not bear to hear one more thing about Benjamin King.
“I assume you know...who he is.” Penelope eyed the other three before finishing that sentence. “He’s an absolute scoundrel.” Then she crumpled. Harriet’s morally upright, never emotional mother-in-law clasped a hand to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. “He gave me an entire estate so I can be safe. What kind of ridiculous man does that?”
Harriet tipped her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to maintain control. Benjamin King. Bennett Fauntleroy. Ben. He was the man who did such a thing. He was the man who sacrificed his life’s dream—a home of his own—for the sake and safety of a woman who used to hate him.
He was a gentleman in the truest sense of the word. Honorable, generous, kind. Even when no one was looking.
The barrier she’d been trying to build around her heart collapsed, and she gasped out a sob. Then, because nothing about this day made sense, Penelope hobbled over and took Harriet into her arms. They cried together, over that man, for untold minutes.
Finally, Penelope loosened her hold and sniffled. “I will help you, Harriet. I will tell anyone who needs to hear what my brother has done.”
This time Peyton offered his handkerchief to Penelope while James passed his over to Harriet.
“Lady Dunstan, it is good to see you again,” Taviston said. “Would you care to sit? I believe the tea is still warm.”
She allowed Peyton to assist her over to the sofa. Taviston looked expectantly at Harriet.
But she couldn’t. She needed to be by herself. To mourn what was lost before she could carry on with her life and her court case and her children. “Please excuse me,” she said to no one in particular.
She’d gained the door before James softly called her name. She could never ignore him. “Yes?”
He brushed a stray tear from beneath her eye. “We love you.”
She huffed out a wet laugh at that. “I never doubted it. You are the best brothers in all of Britain.”
“Is that all?”
She rolled her eyes for his benefit, knowing he was trying to pull her up out of her misery. “Very well. The Western Hemisphere?”
“I’ll take it.” He grasped her hand, squeezing with affection. “Please say you will come to my wedding. It won’t be the same if you aren’t there.”
“Of course I’ll come. If my lord duke over there will use his almighty power to allow all my children to travel with me.”
“You know he’ll move heaven and earth to do so.”
She gifted him a half-smile, which was the best she could do, and rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, James.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Taviston Hall, Oxfordshire
The last two days had been a chaotic blur of packing trunks, arranging carriages, and traveling. Not to mention ducal threats showered upon Saunders until he quaked in his shoes. Taviston had not been pleased to hear of all that occurred under Saunders domain, especially the sordid tale Penelope revealed. At long last, Harriet was very confident she and Taviston would win custody of the children.
From her spot on an upper balcony, she looked out over the ballroom of her family’s home as friends and neighbors celebrated the nuptials of James and Amelia. After the more intimate ceremony in the estate chapel, the doors to the ballroom had been thrown wide for a celebration. There was food, drink, and dancing, which had even spilled out the terrace doors.
Harriet had been welcomed into her mother’s embrace then promptly scolded for ‘keeping secrets and attempting to solve problems on her own when she had a perfectly meddlesome family to assist her.’ She’d simply hugged her mother all the tighter.
Her children were currently out in the garden with their oldest cousins, being treated to their own festivities. William and the other three infant cousins were enjoying a romp outside under the eyes of their nursery maids. All was right in her world.
Is it truly?
That voice still pestered her, always questioning her thoughts. As if she didn’t know her own mind.
“There you are!”
Two bodies crashed into the balcony rail on either side of her. Two of her sisters-in-law: Victoria, Duchess of Taviston, and Tessa, wife of Peyton. The former appeared to be slightly fuddled from all the champagne that flowed, and the latter exhausted since she’d given birth within the month.
“We are so glad you’re here, Harriet.” Victoria patted her hand. “James would have been devastated if you hadn’t come. Although to be honest, I think Taviston was quite upset, too, when he heard you’d declined the invitation.”
Harriet smiled. “He’s been an astonishing source of comfort the last two days. It probably helps that he’s in his element issuing orders—and threats.”
“He’s at his best when being a duke.” Victoria tapped a finger to her lips. “He’s also at his best when—”
“It’s such a relief you could bring all the children,” Tessa declared, stopping Victoria from saying something altogether inappropriate. “I’m so glad all the cousins are together for a few days. You have a wonderful family, Harriet.”
Family. Her family was together again. Except for...
Harriet jerked her gaze back to the ballroom below, scanning the crowd for...
No one.
There was no one she sought. Her family was complete.
Her eyes snagged on a figure by the terrace door, leaning against the jamb as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Though at a distance, she saw a resemblance to Benjamin King. Or Bennett Fauntleroy.
“Excuse me.”
She darted away from her sisters-in-law, dashed down the steps, and breached the ballroom. In mere seconds she found the bride and groom. Amelia was resplendent in a shimmering plum gown. Her brother was handsome as could be in his black suit with a waistcoat that matched his new wife’s dress.
“James.”
He turned, a knowing look on his face. “He is my friend, Hattie. I invited him.” As she continued to glower, he lifted a hand. “I may have also hoped you’d reconsider his suit. He loves you.”
“You spoke to him about me?” The words made it out even though she could barely move her jaw.
James shook his head. “He refused to say anything. It’s all there in his eyes though.”
Amelia, his wife of two hours, looking so young and fresh-faced at the age of one and twenty, settled a hand on Harriet’s arm. “Please forgive James. He’s rightly feeling very romantic these days. I’m sure you can easily avoid Mr...”
Exactly. Did anyone even know who the man was?
He’s the man I love.
Oh no. That was her own voice.
He’s the piece missing from my family. We aren’t complete without him.
Oh yes.
She looked in the direction of the terrace doors, but the crowd was thick, and she wasn’t exceptionally tall.
Her breaths came in short pants. Was she going to do this? Could she even find the courage?
You’re not a coward, Harriet Danforth Rutledge, Viscountess Dunstan.
Besides, she knew what his answer would be. He’d offered her his heart that day. He wasn’t a man to rescind that kind of offer. He might never verbalize his feelings again, out of respect, but they were still there. He wasn’t a man who loved lightly, despite that charming mask he wore.
Still, her heart raced with trepidation as if she were up on the roof, atop the peak, arms straight out for balance, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, nothing but swirling air on either side of her.
“You deserve to be happy, Hattie.”
That wasn’t her conscience nor the voice that had stalked her thoughts morning, noon, and night. It was only her brother James, whispering encouragement in her ear. He was smiling with warmth and love as he unbent and stood tall beside his bride again. Amelia silently clapped her hands then steepled them in front of her grinning mouth.
Buoyed by their support, Harriet pushed her shoulders back and headed for the opposite side of the ballroom. She almost lost her nerve halfway across but that only irritated her. She was the girl who had snuck out to meet a stable boy. She was the woman who had an affair with her children’s tutor. She wasn’t afraid to take risks.
Once she broke through the crowd, there he was, still lounging near the door. He wore his best black coat and the emerald waistcoat again, though he must be sweltering in the lingering summer heat. His grey pantaloons were smooth and tight over his legs, causing her breath to hitch. He wore shoes, she noted with absurd dismay.
He straightened when he caught sight of her, unsure whether to leave or stay.
After smoothing the skirts of her blue muslin dress, Harriet clasped her hands behind her back and closed the distance between them. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Lady Dunstan.” He was wary, probably unsure of her motives. “I hope you are enjoying the celebration.”
Ever the polite gentleman. “I am not, as it happens.”
An adorable V formed between his eyes. “Why is that?”
She turned her head forlornly toward the ballroom. “No one has asked me to dance. I do so love to dance.” The quartet struck a chord. “Oh, listen. It’s a waltz.”
That was a quite a coincidence. She wondered briefly if James or Amelia had arranged for the intimate dance to be formed next.
Ben still wasn’t sure what she was about, but she’d put her faith in his manners, and he didn’t disappoint. “Would you like to dance, my lady?”
“Yes,” she exclaimed, perhaps a little too emphatically.
Next thing she knew, his hand was upon her waist, sending hot slivers of want across her body, as he pulled her into the dancing form. Off they went, waltzing over the polished floor, the heat from their bodies commingling into a cloud of desire around them. She could barely breathe for the assault on all her senses. The familiar aroma of him filling her nose, the touch of his hands holding her in thrall, the sound of his staccato breathing, the sight of those green eyes, that firm jaw, those lips fighting a smile. All that was missing was the taste of him, which she would just have to imagine. For now.
“For God’s sakes, Hattie,” he breathed into her ear. “Have mercy on a man.”
She smiled wickedly. He stumbled. She ran her tongue over her lips. His hands dropped away, and he stalked toward the terrace.
He was leaning against the back of the house, near the balustrade that edged the paved terrace. His chest heaved as he tried to recover his breath. He shot her a scowl as she approached. “What the hell was that about?”
“I wanted to dance. With you.”
“I’m not the mouse to your cat, Hattie.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I came here to see my friend get married. I will be leaving tomorrow.”
She studied him, from his leather-covered feet to the brown, disheveled hair atop his head, and gave herself permission to fall in love with this man. Not with his handsome face, though that was dear, not with his charming personality, though it did grow on one, but with his unsparing heart and his generous soul.
She didn’t deserve him. She certainly wasn’t good enough for him. But she would claim him nonetheless and try to love him as thoroughly as he deserved.
“Hattie,” he said impatiently.
“The children are here. Just down in the garden, if you’d like to see them.” That wasn’t what she’d intended to say, but apparently, she was a coward when it came to admitting her feelings.
“No thank you. I’ve said good-bye to them once. I wouldn’t be able to survive doing so again.”
Guilt stabbed her chest. She couldn’t drag this out any further. “What if we went together to tell them the news?”
His head thudded against the limestone wall. “What news?”
She drew in a brave breath. “That you’re going to marry me.”
“What?” His head dropped, and his eyes zeroed in on her face. “Why would I marry you after you’ve rejected me twice?”
He didn’t say that with anger but with anticipation. Harriet’s heart drummed so loudly she could barely think. She stepped closer to him, within touching distance, but didn’t reach out. She might lose her nerve completely if she didn’t say the words soon.
“Because I demand that you do so,” she said with an authoritative air. When his eyes sparkled like emeralds in the sun, she knew she’d said the right thing. Her hands landed on her hips. “Because my family isn’t complete without you. Because I can exist, but I cannot live without you. Because I love you, you ridiculous rogue.”
