Page 40 of The Scottish Duke Tames the Bluestocking
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said firmly. “I am certainly not running from anyone - I am just... busy.”
She heard his murmured laugh but ignored it - fleeing before he could see the growing truth in her eyes. This dance of avoidance, she realized, was becoming increasingly difficult. Still - she knew she had no choice but to persevere. Her heart depended on it.
“You’re still avoiding my brother,” Abigail asserted early the next morning, bursting into Harriet’s bedchamber without bothering to knock. Harriet, still slow to wake, stifled a yawn as she looked at her sister.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Abigail folded her arms and looked at Harriet with narrowed eyes. “I feel as though I see you more than he does,” she said with a pout. “I don’t understand.”
Harriet sighed and moved to pat Abigail’s shoulder. “Oh, darling,” she said with a sigh. “We are both merely busy.”
She knew full well that the excuse was already wearing thin. In fact, she had heard some of the servants express concern about her eager willingness to do some of the housework herself: they feared that they’d be seen as redundant now that there was a duchess who preferred to keep things on. Little did they know, Harriet mused silently, that it was born out of necessity.
Still, she was rather certain that she was growing more confident in her role as duchess. She found satisfaction in making tidy to-do lists in the mornings, taking inventory of the kitchens and still rooms, and reviewing household accounts with a careful eye. The servants now looked to her for guidance and approval, and she felt a swell of pride each time Mrs. Ainsley gave her a nod of respect.
With Hugh, however, the awkward dance continued. He would seek her out, trying to engage her in conversation or suggest they spend time together. Each time, Harriet would fumble for an excuse, citing some pressing household matter or invented prior engagement.
She looked at Abigail guiltily. “I’ll try harder,” she promised. Abigail looked satisfied - at least for the moment - and she left Harriet’s bedchamber with a grin. It soon became apparent exactly why Abigail had been so easy to placate: during the course of the morning, Harriet found herself woefully unable to keep busy with anything around the house. Wherever she was, a servant was already nearly done with the task.
As such, Harriet soon found herself in the library, ostensibly reviewing the wine ledgers but really losing herself in a novel she'd found tucked behind a dusty Chaucer tome. She was so engrossed in the sweet embrace of the heroine and her design lover that she didn't hear Hugh enter.
“Harriet?” His voice startled her so badly that she dropped the book, watching in horrified dismay as it thumped open on the Persian carpet.
“Your Grace... I mean... Hugh,” she gasped, snatching up the book and shoving it behind her back. “I didn’t realize anyone was here.”
Hugh’s eyes gleamed with mirth. “Neither did I,” he admitted. “Though I am glad to have found ye. I thought perhaps we could...”
He frowned suddenly and reached for the book behind her back. “An interesting read,” he said with a grin, and Harriet blushed. “The Duke’s Daughter.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Harriet explained quickly, looking anywhere but at him. “I was just... researching.”
A bark of laughter escaped Hugh’s throat. “Researchin' the finer points of soulful promenades and stolen kisses?” he teased.
Harriet shook her head with a laugh. “I did find it in your library,” she teased back impulsively, and Hugh laughed.
“I admit,” he said slowly, “that I may have skimmed a chapter or two in me misspent youth.”
Harriet laughed softly. “Well,” she admitted, “Now you know. I... have a certain weakness for romance novels.”
Hugh took a step closer to her, his eyes searching hers intimately. “There is absolutely nothin’ wrong with a little romance, lass,” he said, his voice deep.
For a moment, Harriet forgot to breathe. The look in his eyes, the timbre of his voice...it sent an unfamiliar warmth pooling low in her belly. She moistened her suddenly dry lips, pulse hammering as Hugh's gaze followed the motion.
Then, as if a spell had broken, she came back to herself with a jolt. She couldn’t let herself be swept away by his dangerous allure. Clutching the book to her chest, she edged around Hugh's imposing form.
“Yes, well, we all have our little secrets, don’t we?” she quipped, her voice only slightly breathless. “If you’ll pardon me, I have some correspondence to attend to.”
She fled the library, Hugh's low chuckle chasing her down the corridor. In the safety of her bedchamber, she leaned against the door, the novel clutched to her racing heart. This wicked ache, this warm happiness his presence evoked in her...it was becoming harder and harder to resist.
But resist she must, Harriet reminded herself sternly. No matter how tempting Hugh might be, no matter how her traitorous body yearned for his touch...she could not allow herself to succumb. She had vowed to be his wife in name only, to guard her vulnerable heart against love's devastating blows.
Even if it meant denying her own desires, even if it left her aching and hollow and so very, very alone...she would keep her promise. For her own sake and for Hugh's. They had struck a bargain, and she was determined to uphold her end, no matter the cost to her own fragile heart.
With renewed resolve, Harriet tucked away her tattered copy of the silly novel and turned her attention to the household accounts. Losing herself in columns of numbers and carefully balanced ledgers, she could almost forget the gentle softness of Hugh’s gaze, the deep timbre of his voice as he teased her.
Almost... but not quite. Even as she threw herself into her duties with determined focus, Harriet couldn't quite escape the nagging sense that she was fighting a losing battle. That no matter how hard she tried to keep Hugh at arm's length, he was slowly but surely chipping away at the walls she'd erected around her heart.
It was only a matter of time, she feared, before those walls came tumbling down altogether... leaving her defenseless against the devastating power of love. And when that day came, heaven help her, for she would be utterly lost.
