Page 32 of The Scottish Duke Tames the Bluestocking
Sympathy flashed over her face at his words and Hugh laughed softly.
“Daenae feel sorry for me, lass. I chose family responsibility once and I will always choose it - but the fact is that the reputation of my house doesnae mean much in theton- it is unlike your family. I know that your brother is a difficult one, but he has a great weight upon his own shoulders. Still - you could recover from this scandal.”
Harriet frowned.
“But only at the risk of your reputation. That hardly seems fair - it would not only affect you, but your sister.”
“Aye.”
Hugh nodded and was silent for a while. When he nodded at last, it was with a pensive smile. “Abby is the reason why I will enter this marriage... but nae if it is nae what you want. I willnae force ye into anything, lassie. Daenae fear me.”
There was nothing Harriet could do but smile at him gratefully. Despite his certain words, the frown of consternation between his brows made it clear that he too was worried about the fallout should they not married. She lifted her chin firmly.
“I will marry you, Hugh.”
He looked at her, his brows raised in relief and she smiled before repeating her words. “I will marry you... but I do have a condition.”
CHAPTER17
Hugh's brow furrowed as he searched Harriet's face, trying to decipher the emotion that flickered behind her eyes. “A condition?” he echoed, his voice laced with curiosity and a touch of apprehension. “What sort of condition, lass?”
Harriet drew a deep breath, steeling herself for the words she knew she must say. “I will marry you, Hugh. I will be your wife in every way that matters, your partner and your ally. But I need you to promise me something, something that is crucial to my agreeing to this union.”
Hugh’s grip on her hand tightened fractionally, his gaze intense as he waited for her to continue. “Anythin', lassie. Name it, and it shall be done.”
She swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs as she forced the words past her lips. “I need you to promise that you will not fall in love with me. That you will guard your heart against such weakness, just as I will guard mine against the same.”
For a long moment, Hugh simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a frown creased his brow, confusion and disbelief warring in his eyes. “Ye want me to promise nae to love you? But why, lass? Why would ye ask such a thing of me, of yerself?”
Harriet shook her head, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Please, Your Grace. Don't ask me to explain. Just know that it is what I need, what I must have if I am to go through with this. Can you give me your word, your solemn vow, that you will not let your heart be swayed by the vagaries of emotion?”
Hugh was silent for a long moment, his jaw working as he struggled to comprehend her request. At last, he nodded, his shoulders sagging with resignation. “Aye, lass. If that is what ye truly want, what ye need to feel secure in this match, then I give ye me word. I willnae fall in love with ye, Harriet Lourne. I will be yer husband, yer friend, yer partner in all things...but I willnae let my heart be ruled by sentiment.”
Relief washed over Harriet in a dizzying wave, and she sagged against the sofa, a shaky laugh escaping her throat. “Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you for understanding, for giving me this reassurance. It means more to me than you can possibly know.”
He squeezed her hand once more, a wry smile quirking his lips. “Think nothin' of it, lass. I'm a man of me word, and I'll nae go back on a promise, nay matter how strange or confoundin' it may be.”
With that, he rose to his feet, offering her his arm in a gallant gesture. “Now, what say we return to the opera? I believe we've missed quite enough of the performance already, and I'd hate to give the gossips any more fodder for their waggin' tongues.”
Harriet accepted his arm with a grateful smile, allowing him to escort her back to their box. As they settled into their seats once more, she couldn't help but be acutely aware of Hugh's solid presence beside her, the heat of his body searing her even through the layers of silk and brocade.
She tried to focus on the unfolding drama on stage, but her mind kept drifting back to the conversation they had just shared, the weight of the promises they had made. It was a strange sort of pact, she knew, a vow to deny the very essence of what made a marriage true and lasting.
But it was a necessary one, a safeguard against the perils of love and the heartbreak that so often followed in its wake. And though a small, traitorous part of her heart whispered that she was cheating herself out of life's greatest adventure, Harriet ruthlessly silenced it, determined to stay the course she had set for herself.
The rest of the opera passed in a blur, the soaring melodies and sweeping arias washing over Harriet in a distant haze. Before she knew it, the final curtain had fallen, and Hugh was escorting her out of the theater and into the waiting carriage.
The ride back to the Lourne estate was a quiet one, each of them lost in their own thoughts as the clatter of hooves and the creak of the wheels filled the silence. When at last they pulled up to the grand entrance, Hugh alighted first, offering his hand to help Harriet down.
She accepted it with a murmured thanks, her skin tingling at the contact despite the layers of glove and silk that separated them. Hugh bowed over her hand, his eyes glinting with something she couldn't quite name in the flickering light of the torches.
“Until tomorrow, me lady,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her very bones. “Sleep well, and dream of brighter days ahead.”
With that, he turned and strode back to the carriage, leaving Harriet to watch his retreating form with a curious mix of relief and regret churning in her breast.
William, who stood next to her, looked at her curiously. “You were with him for the entirety of the intermission,” he said eagerly. “What did you decide? What did you discuss?”
Jennifer looked at her son admonishingly. “William...”
