Page 37 of The Rake I Wished For
Harlow’s mouth opened but nothing came out.
“Is that why you came back early?” Liam looked eager now. “Are you asking for my permission?”
The room might as well have been flipped upside down. Harlow’s entire world was upended with one cheerful question.
“No,” he finally managed. “Of course not. I'm not the sort of man she wants. And you...couldn't possibly approve”
“Couldn’t I?” Liam’s eyes lit with laughter, and Harlow thought perhaps he’d be the one to plant a facer when all was said and done. How could Liam be so amused about this?
“I’ve no title, no fortune. And we both know what Jocelyn wants for her future.”
Liam tipped his head to the side as he considered this. “I cannot speak for what Jocelyn wants for her future. But for my part, as I've repeatedly told Jocelyn, all I care about is her happiness.”
Harlow opened his mouth to protest. He knew from Jocelyn’s own lips that what she wanted was a good marriage to a man like Northbridge, and—
“I won't have her miserable like our mother was,” Liam added with a frown.
Harlow fell quiet. Liam and Jocelyn rarely spoke of their parents since their death, and Jocelyn, in particular, never mentioned her mother.
Without Harlow having to ask, Liam explained about their mother’s sad love affair with a merchant, and how she’d been given to fits of despair that left her weeping in her quarters.
How Jocelyn had taken it upon herself to cheer her. How she’d announced as a child that she had no desire for romance, and how she’d decided at the ripe old age of nine that she’d marry for wealth and a title, and had no wish for a love match.
Liam scrubbed the back of his neck. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be telling you this. It’s her story to tell. But the thing is, I suppose I thought the same…before Rose came along. I didn’t even bear the worst of our mother’s moods, but I too thought I could harden my heart against love. And more than anything, Harlow, I don’t want that fate for Jocelyn.”
Harlow’s heart was aching too badly for him to respond. His mind was filled with the image of the young girl he’d known—always so lively and vivacious. He’d never suspected the wounds she kept so well hidden.
It didn’t surprise him, necessarily. In fact, it merely helped bring her into focus—her wants and her desires. He couldn’t help but recall the stricken look on her face when he’d asked her how she was so certain she wouldn’t have romantic feelings toward her future husband.
Liam left him to sort through his thoughts and feelings with a hand on his shoulder by way of parting. “If you love her, don’t give up on her.”
Harlow nodded. “The thing is, Liam…I must respect her wishes.”
“Of course,” Liam muttered.
And Harlow suspected they were of one mind on this. No one could force Jocelyn to marry for love—assuming she did love him.
He’d never try to persuade her to give up her dreams of a good, comfortable life as a well-respected lady of theton. Because that was what she deserved…if it was what she still wanted.
He’d only just stumbled out of the study, his mind reeling, when Jocelyn found him. “Won’t you join us?” she asked.
“I was on my way out,” he said. This was true. For once he wasn’t trying to avoid her. But when Jocelyn’s face fell with disappointment, he quickly added, “But you’re welcome to come—”
“Oh, yes, that sounds lovely. Let me just fetch my hat.”
She ran off before he could so much as tell her where he was going.
But as he was going to check out his new property, he supposed this was for the best. It was time he was honest with Jocelyn just as he had been with Liam.
She deserved nothing less than the truth from him, and showing her his cards, so to speak, might very well be what drove her away for good.
But she deserved to be the one to decide.
He greeted her with a smile when she returned, but inwardly he was bracing for the worst. The Jocelyn he knew wanted it all. And she deserved it all.
And he had little to give.
A short while later they were there, at his new property, which looked like ancient ruins compared to the well-kept manor from which they’d just come.
