Page 35 of The Scottish Duke Tames the Bluestocking
She would marry Hugh Wilkinson, would take his name and his hand and his heart, for better or worse. And though she had sworn to guard her own heart against the perils of love, had vowed to keep a careful distance between them...she knew that she could no longer continue on as she had before, could no longer indulge in the reckless, impulsive behavior that had so nearly brought them all to ruin.
For his sake, for Abigail's sake...for the sake of the family she was about to join and the life she was about to build...she would learn to temper her wild spirit, to channel her passion and her fire into more productive pursuits. She would be the wife he needed, the partner he deserved...and though it might chafe at times, might feel like a betrayal of her very nature...she knew that it was a small price to pay for the chance to stand by his side, to face the world together as equals and allies.
And so, with a resolute nod and a determined set to her jaw, Harriet reached out and clasped Abigail's hand in her own, a fierce, unshakeable promise shining in her eyes.
“I understand now,” she said softly, her voice trembling with the force of her conviction. “And I swear to you, Abigail... I will do everything in my power to be worthy of your brother's sacrifice, to be the wife and the sister and the friend that you both deserve. I may not always get it right, and I may stumble and falter along the way... but I will never stop trying, never stop striving to be better, to be more than I ever thought possible.”
Abigail’s answering smile was blinding in its brightness, a radiant beacon of hope and joy and unbridled affection. And as the two women embraced, their hearts beating in perfect unison...Harriet felt a surge of pure, unadulterated love wash over her, a love that had nothing to do with romance or passion or the fleeting thrills of courtship...and everything to do with family, with the unbreakable bonds of loyalty and devotion that would sustain them through whatever trials lay ahead.
“Thank you, Harriet,” Abigail said and stood, gathering her skirts. “I am glad it is you. I hope...” A blush rose to her cheeks as though she was embarrassed to say the next words.
“I hope,” the girl let out quickly, her words tumbling from her lips. “I hope that you will be very happy together.”
With this said, she rushed off with crimson cheeks and Harriet smiled.
Perhaps, she thought, happiness was not an impossible dream.
CHAPTER19
The gentle light of dawn crept through the curtains of Harriet's bedchamber, casting a soft, golden glow across the room as she sat before the vanity, her heart thrumming with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. Prudence stood behind her, her deft fingers weaving through Harriet's hair, transforming the glossy chestnut locks into an intricate arrangement of curls and braids that seemed to defy gravity itself. Next to her sat Jennifer, her hand clasping her daughter’s in a show of support.
Harriet watched her mother's reflection in the mirror, marveling at the way her eyes shone with a misty, faraway look, as though she were lost in some distant memory. Behind her, Prudence’s hands moved with a surety and grace that spoke of years of practice, each pin and twist placed with a loving precision.
“There,” Prudence murmured at last, stepping back to admire her handiwork with a soft, tender smile. “You look absolutely breathtaking, my lady. Like a true vision of bridal perfection.”
Jennifer stood and nodded. “I agree. Good work, Prudence.” She looked at her daughter with a gentle smile. “You look lovely, Harriet. So much like I did on my own wedding day.”
Harriet turned around to meet her mother’s gaze, her own lips curving into a wry, self-deprecating smile as she took in the elaborate confection of silk and lace that seemed to swallow her slender frame, the delicate veil that fell like a gossamer waterfall around her face. It was a far cry from her usual sensible attire, a stark reminder of the momentous change that was about to take place in her life.
“I feel like a fraud,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper as she fiddled with the lace at her wrists, her fingers trembling slightly. “Like I'm playing dress-up in someone else's clothes, pretending to be something I'm not.”
Jennifer's eyes softened with understanding, her hands coming to rest on Harriet's shoulders in a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Oh, my sweet girl. I know how strange and overwhelming this must feel, how daunting it is to stand on the cusp of such a life-altering moment.”
She moved to perch on the edge of the vanity, her gaze distant and wistful as she lost herself in some long-ago memory. “I remember my own wedding day like it was yesterday,” she murmured, a soft, nostalgic smile playing about her lips. “The nerves, the excitement, the sheer, giddy joy of pledging myself to the man I loved more than life itself.”
Harriet looked up at her mother in surprise, her brow furrowing slightly. “But you and Father always seemed so perfectly matched, so utterly in sync with each other. I guess I just assumed that your wedding day was a blissful, fairy-tale affair, free from any doubts or fears.”
Jennifer laughed softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners with fond amusement. “Oh, my darling. Love doesn't make the day any less daunting, any less fraught with nerves and uncertainty. If anything, it only heightens the stakes, makes the weight of the moment feel all the more profound and life-altering.”
She reached out and tucked a stray curl behind Harriet's ear, her touch infinitely gentle and filled with a mother's boundless affection. “I knew I loved your father from the moment we met,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly with the force of her emotion. “It was like a bolt of lightning, a sudden, irrevocable knowledge that this man was my destiny, my soulmate, my other half in every way that mattered.”
Harriet felt her throat tighten with emotion, her eyes stinging with unshed tears as she listened to her mother's words, to the raw, unfettered love that imbued every syllable. She had always known that her parents' marriage had been a true love match, a shining example of what wedded bliss could be. But to hear it spoken aloud, to see the depth of feeling that still shone in her mother's eyes, even after all these years...it made her heart ache with a fierce, desperate longing, a yearning for something she had never dared to hope for herself.
“Our wedding day was a celebration of that love,” Jennifer continued, her voice soft and wistful. “A chance to declare our devotion to each other in front of God and man alike, to make real and tangible the bond that had already taken root in our hearts. It was the happiest day of my life, the start of a journey that brought me more joy and fulfillment than I ever thought possible.”
She fixed Harriet with a piercing, knowing gaze, her eyes shining with a fierce, unwavering love. “I know you're afraid, my darling. Afraid to open your heart, to let yourself feel the full force of what love can be. And I know that this day, this moment...it's not exactly what you had planned, what you had dreamed of when you imagined your own wedding.”
She reached out and took Harriet's hands in her own, her grip warm and steady and filled with unwavering support. “But I also know that you have a chance here, a chance to build something real and lasting and beautiful with a man who sees you, who understands you, who will stand by your side through whatever trials may come. And I hope...I hope with all my heart that this day will be a happy one for you, that it will be the start of a journey that brings you as much joy and contentment as my own marriage did.”
Harriet felt a single tear slip down her cheek, her heart swelling with a fierce, aching love for the woman who had given her life, who had nurtured and supported and believed in her through every trial and triumph. And though she still felt a flicker of trepidation, a whisper of doubt that refused to be silenced...she also felt a growing sense of hope, a tentative, fragile optimism that maybe, just maybe, her mother was right.
Maybe this day, this moment, this man...maybe they were the start of something wonderful, something that would challenge and change and transform her in ways she had never dared to imagine before.
And so, with a resolute nod and a watery smile, Harriet rose to her feet and took her mother's arm, her chin lifted high and her eyes shining with a determined fire as they made their way out of the room and down the stairs, ready to face whatever the future might bring.
The church was a vision of beauty and elegance, the ancient stone walls adorned with garlands of fragrant flowers and shimmering ribbons that caught the light like strands of spun gold. The air was thick with the heady scent of roses and lavender, the delicate blooms seeming to whisper a promise of new beginnings and endless possibilities.
As Harriet made her way down the aisle on William's arm, the gentle strains of the wedding march floating through the air like a celestial serenade, she felt her heart begin to race, her palms growing damp with nerves and anticipation. The sea of smiling faces that surrounded her, the rustle of skirts and the murmur of excited whispers...it all faded away into a distant hum as her gaze landed on Hugh, his tall, broad-shouldered frame resplendent in a crisp black coat and gleaming boots.
