Page 42 of The Scottish Duke Tames the Bluestocking
She sighed deeply. “I didn’t truly understand the loss, but Hugh... he did. And despite that, he was suddenly thrust into the role of head of the family, the sole protector and provider for me...”
Harriet felt her heart constrict with sympathy and her hand tightened instinctively around Abigail’s. “I am sorry, Abigail,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I cannot even imagine the pain and uncertainty you must have grown up with...”
Abigail nodded, a sad smile playing about her lips. “It was difficult,” she admitted. “But Hugh... he has always been my rock, my anchor in the storm. He worked tirelessly to keep us afloat, to make sure I had everything I needed to thrive. To grow.”
She turned to face Harriet, and a serene smile appeared around her lips. “He sacrificed so much for me, Harriet... and it was a difficult road for him. “It was never easy - coming here from Scotland. Hugh... you can hear that he still clings to his roots, and well that... that hasn’t made his life easier. He’s never been accepted in theton, and still... I have been his main concern.”
Harriet merely looked at her, and Abigail continued with a soft sigh. “He has always been afraid. Afraid that neither of us would make a good marriage, and as such he has hidden me from most of theton- from bad influences as he always says. I...”
Abigail smiled at Harriet gently. “That is why I am so glad that he found you, Harriet.”
Harriet felt her cheeks flush at this, but Abigail continued. “You are a good woman. I see that - you are soft and kind, and that... that is what my brother needs. Someone soft. Someone kind.”
A sigh left her lips and she gazed at Harriet, the worry evident in her gaze. “And he... my brother is a good man. He is the kind of man who would move heaven and earth for the people he loves. He will stand by your side through thick and thin, no matter what life brings. And you... you are his family now.”
Harriet felt a flush creep up her neck, her cheeks growing warm under the intensity of Abigail’s gaze. She wanted to protest, to insist that she was not Hugh’s family - that their marriage was one of convenience, one born from a scandal and not one that should be taken too seriously.
But the words stuck in her throat, trapped behind the sudden, dizzying realization that perhaps...just perhaps...there was something more to her affection for her new husband than she had been willing to admit.
Before she could give voice to her churning thoughts, however, the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention, the familiar cadence of Hugh’s stride sending a jolt of panic and excitement racing through her veins.
Harriet’s first instinct was to flee, to make some hasty excuse and retreat to the safety of her bedchamber before he could corner her with his gentle inquiries and searching gazes. But something held her in place, a newfound resolve that whispered that perhaps it was time to stop running, to face the truth of her own heart head-on.
And so, with a deep, steadying breath, Harriet turned to greet her husband, a tentative smile playing about her lips as he strode towards them across the sun-dappled lawn.
“Good morning, ladies,” Hugh said, his voice warm and rich with affection as he bowed over their outstretched hands. “I hope I'm nae interruptin' anythin' important.”
Abigail grinned, her eyes twinkling with barely contained glee as she glanced between her brother and her new sister. “Not at all, Hugh. Harriet and I were just taking a turn about the gardens, enjoying the beautiful weather and each other's company.”
Hugh’s gaze shifted to Harriet, his eyes softening with a tenderness that made her breath catch in her throat. “I’m glad to hear it. I know how much Abigail has been lookin' forward to spendin' time with ye, Harriet. She's been singing yer praises from the moment she met ye.”
Harriet felt a flush of pleasure at his words, a warmth that had nothing to do with the morning sun. “Well, the feeling is entirely mutual. Abigail is a delight, and I feel very lucky to have her as a sister.”
Abigail beamed, her face aglow with happiness as she looped her arm through Harriet’s. “Why don't we all have a picnic by the lake? It’s such a lovely day, and I’m sure Cook would be happy to prepare a basket for us.”
Hugh hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering to Harriet as though seeking her approval. She felt a sudden, irrational surge of shyness, a flutter of nerves that made her tongue feel clumsy and thick in her mouth.
But she forced herself to nod, to meet his eyes with a smile that felt only slightly strained at the edges. “That sounds lovely, Abigail. I'd be delighted to join you both for tea.”
Hugh’s face split into a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine pleasure. “Excellent. I’ll go and speak to Cook, have her prepare somethin' special for the occasion.”
He bowed once more before striding off towards the house, his tall, broad-shouldered form quickly disappearing from view. Harriet watched him go, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to make sense of the swirling emotions that churned within her.
She knew, deep down, that her feelings for Hugh went far beyond the bounds of mere friendship or sisterly affection. The way her pulse raced at the sound of his voice, the way her skin tingled at the brush of his fingers against hers... it spoke of a deeper connection, a bond that went beyond the practical considerations of their arranged marriage.
But the thought of giving voice to those feelings, of opening her heart to the possibility of love and all the vulnerability and risk that came with it...it terrified her, made her want to retreat behind the walls of her carefully constructed defenses and never emerge again.
And yet... as she sat beside Abigail on the sun-warmed grass, sipping fragrant tea and listening to Hugh’s rich, rumbling laughter as he regaled them with tales of his boyhood adventures... Harriet couldn’t help but feel a sense of rightness, of belonging that she had never experienced before.
Here, in the dappled shade of the ancient oak tree, with the two people who had so quickly become the center of her world... Harriet felt a glimmer of hope, a whisper of possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, she had found the family she had always longed for, the love she had never dared to dream of.
It was a frightening thought, a prospect that filled her with equal parts exhilaration and dread. For to open her heart to Hugh, to allow herself to fall for the man she had married out of duty and necessity...it meant risking everything, putting her very soul on the line in a gamble that could shatter her beyond repair.
CHAPTER23
As both Abigail and Hugh had predicted, the manor’s cook was more than willing to prepare a picnic basket with him - and as such, a reluctant Harriet did not have much of a choice. She had to slowly walk to the lake they had chosen, sitting down on the quilt quietly once they reached what Abigail deemed the ‘perfect picnic spot’.
Beside her, Abigail was practically vibrating with enthusiasm, her eyes wide and sparkling as she took in the array of delicacies before them. “Oh, Harriet,” she breathed, her voice filled with wonder. “This is simply marvelous! I can't remember the last time I had a proper picnic like this.”
