Chapter 10

The promenade turned out to be far less grating than she had expected. After bidding farewell to Hugh, Harriet quickly followed her mother to the drawing-room. Of course the weight of expectation still sat heavily upon Harriet's shoulders. As civil as their promenade had been, it was still not enough to convince her entirely to marry the man. This, Harriet thought, was a lot to expect of her.

Jennifer, of course, soon noticed her daughter's demeanor and she patted the space beside her - a silent invitation for Harriet to join her. Harriet sat down with a deep sigh, her brow furrowed.

"Well that was not so bad," Jennifer started, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "His Grace seems like quite the man... and he is quite willing to listen to your little plans."

Harriet glanced at her mother with a wry smile. "To be honest," she admitted softly, "I can't really think about it right now. I suppose I am making everything up as I go along. But it is a fair expectation, do you not agree? We must at least ensure that we get along well enough."

Jennifer looked at her daughter sympathetically. "It would be ideal. A lot of women do not have that luxury. "

"I know," Harriet admitted. It was a fact that far too many women were forced into marriages with men who were cruel and even abusive. She was indeed quite lucky that the Duke was at the very least willing to give them some time to see if they'd get along. Still, it was a lot to expect and she blinked some tears away.

"I cannot marry a man I do not love simply because society demands it of me, Mother. I cannot," she insisted.

Jennifer reached out, clasping her daughter's hand in her own in a manner that she was meant to be comforting. Harriet, though, was beyond the point where any comfort could be derived from a mere gesture.

"I know, sweetheart." For a while, Jennifer looked at her daughter sympathetically. She knew why Harriet had these illusions about true love: it was the example she'd had as a youth.

"Your father and I were in a fortunate position, not only to find love but to be able to marry that person... And you know well it is all I ever wanted for you. But you are in a precarious position, my child."

Harriet nodded and tears formed in her eyes. She turned her head away quickly, staring at the sun illuminating the gardens.

"The alternative..." She shuddered. Even the thought of living with Aunt Mildred on her dreary estate was too horrid to entertain, even for a second.

Jennifer smiled, though there was no humor in the wry turn of her lips. "Banishing you to that dreary estate is a thought that I find difficult to entertain," she admitted. At this, Harriet laughed softly.

"Can you imagine? Me, surrounded by all those ghastly doilies and ceramic figurines? I'd go mad."

Despite the concern in her tone, Jennifer could not help but laugh. "The horror!" she exclaimed and pressed a dramatic hand to her heart. "You'd be clawing at the walls within a fortnight - driven mad by the sheer volume of lace and potpourri!"

Though she struggled to see the humor in the horror of her circumstances, Harriet laughed softly. "It is a fate worse than death," she quipped and she caught her mother's eye. For a few seconds, the pair only looked at each other in worry.

When Harriet spoke again, her voice was vulnerable - a soft sound reminiscent of her childhood. "I need time to get to know him, Mother."

As she made this admission, Harriet felt a sobering wave of reality wash over her. Her hands tightened over her mother's.

"I want what you and Father had. I want... a man who allows me to be myself, rebellious and silly as I am. I do not want to be in a marriage where I am forced to change who I am, with a husband who demands that I become someone I am not."

Jennifer sighed deeply. "You have my unwavering support - and whatever the future holds, I will be by your side. Even if it is on Aunt Mildred's estate." She winked at her daughter, a teasing grin appearing on her lips.

At this, tears jumped to Harriet's eyes and she blinked them away furiously. "Thank you, Mother," she whispered and moved to lean her head against her mother's shoulder. "I truly do not know what I would do without you."

Jennifer pressed a gentle kiss to her daughter's hair at this. "Oh, I am sure that you would manage just fine. Though I believe life is certainly far more entertaining with me around, do you not agree?"

Harriet laughed softly at this and shook her head. Her mother always managed to find a way to add a little light to the darkness of any situation.

"That is very true, Mother," she agreed and she pressed her cheek against her mother's shoulder - a silent, grateful gesture.

"All will be well, my darling," Jennifer promised - though the soft note of uncertainty did not escape her daughter's attention. Harriet smiled bravely as she rose to her feet.

"You are right," she agreed. "All will be well."

If there was one thing Harriet soon found she could say about the Duke, it was that he was certainly true to his word. This, of course, was a relief - and it echoed her mother's sentiments that all may be well.

Hugh wasted no time, calling upon Harriet the very next day. She was sat in the drawing-room once more, when a quiet knock alerted her to his presence. Drawing a steady breath, Harriet pasted on a carefully composed smile and looked up as the imposing Scotsman entered the drawing-room.

"Your Grace," she greeted with a shallow dip of her head. "How kind of you to call upon me."

Hugh flashed her a grin and inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I am a man of me word, lass," he rumbled. "When I commit to somethin' I see it through."

Harriet lifted her chin a fraction, refusing to be unsettled by his bold declaration.

Casting about for a suitable diversion, her gaze fell upon the gleaming mahogany card table nestled in the corner. A spark of mischief kindled in her breast as a rather outrageous notion took root.

"Well then," she said brightly and gestured towards the table with a mischievous grin. "Since you're so committed to our... arrangement, perhaps you would care to join me in a friendly game of cards?"

Hugh"s brows hiked upwards in surprise at her unconventional suggestion, but to her delight, he didn"t refuse outright. Instead, a considering light entered his oceanic eyes as he studied her, head cocked slightly to one side.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully as he looked at her and a rueful grin formed on his face. "Cards, ye say? An' here I thought proper young ladies werenae meant to indulge in diversions of that kind."

Harriet's smile widened at that and a reckless bravado took hold of her. "There is your first mistake, Your Grace. You ought to know that I am hardly a proper lady by most standards."

She took a step closer to him and looked up at him, her gaze daring.

"I do find a bit of friendly competition quite invigorating. Don't you?"

She paused when he did not respond immediately, arching her brow in a silent challenge. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer a more sedate activity befitting a duke. Perhaps a leisurely stroll around the garden? We could watch the flowers grow."

Hugh's smile broadened at this, and he too arched a brow. "Careful, lass," he warned, his voice deep. "I'd hate for ye to underestimate me based on mere appearances. A wee game of cards sounds great - lead the way."

Barely suppressing a crow of triumph, Harriet ushered him towards the table, her skirts swishing about her ankles as anticipation thrummed through her veins. This was her chance to ruffle the unflappable Scot"s feathers. She was certain that he would be overwhelmed by discomfort due to her refusal to bow to society's given standards.

Hugh, however, seemed unaffected. He looked cool and calm as he took a seat across from her. Harriet glanced at him curiously before retrieving a well-worn deck of cards from the table drawer and shuffling them with ease. Hugh watched her movements through hooded eyes, a speculative smirk playing around his lips.

"What shall we play then, lass?" He shifted his seat and settled back in his chair, an air languid unconcern. "Whist? Brag? Piquet?"

Harriet's lips curved in a sly smile and she tilted her head as she dealt the cards with a flick of her wrist.

"Oh, I thought we might make things a bit more interesting," she replied innocently. "Have you ever played Commerce, Your Grace?"

Hugh"s brow furrowed slightly at the unfamiliar name, but he merely shrugged. "Cannae say I have, but I"m game for anythin" at this point."

"Oh, how delightful." Harriet's smile turned positively wicked at this. "The rules are simple," she announced before launching into a quick explanation. She watched Hugh"s expression keenly for any sign of apprehension but to her consternation, he merely nodded amiably.

"Perhaps," she offered eagerly, hopeful to dissuade him from playing the game to begin with, "we should wager something."

Surely, Harriet thought, he would refuse to wager anything - it was far too ungentlemanly to wager against a lady.

"Oh?"

Rather than affronted, the syllable leaving his lips was curious - intrigued even. "A wager indeed? It sounds like something I could do."

Harriet leaned forward slightly and a smirk formed on her lips.

"My suggestion is that the one who is victorious can request a favor from the other."

Hugh did not answer - instead, he just lifted a brow and gave her the courtesy of a slight nod. Harriet immediately threw herself into the game with gusto - determined to unsettle the Duke through sheer brazenness. She lifted her chin as she placed a reckless bet and she tossed her chips onto the table with an insouciant air that bordered on scandalous impropriety.

A sly grin settled around her lips at her own daring. Surely the Duke would recoil from this unladylike behavior.

To her utter bewilderment, Hugh merely grinned as he met her wagers. Rather than be taken aback by her brazen behavior, he tossed his own chips into the pot with careless abandon. Harriet narrowed her eyes as she looked at him.

If anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, his eyes sparkling with barely suppressed mirth as he needled her with good-natured taunts.

"Careful there, lass," he cautioned with a smirk when Harriet placed a particularly bold bet. "Wouldnae want ye to lose yer pretty little head now. Ye daenae ken what favor I might request."

Harriet merely huffed and lifted her chin defiantly. "You ought to be more concerned with your own head, Your Grace," she warned. "When I play... I play to win."

Hugh"s rich laughter rumbled through the room. "Oh, I daenae doubt that for a minute, ye wee rebel," he chuckled, eyes glinting with sly amusement. "But ye"ll soon learn that I"m no easy mark to best."

To Harriet's chagrin, the wily Scot proved to be a formidable foe. He matched her risk for risk, his quicksilver grin never faltering - even as the stakes climbed ever higher. Before long, Harriet found herself in the unfamiliar position of facing imminent defeat. Her pile of chips was dwindling - a stark contrast to the towering stack of chips in front of the duke.

She bit her lower lip frustratedly. This was not at all how she had envisioned this gambit unfolding. Hugh was meant to be shocked by her brazen outing of propriety - he was certainly not meant to be thoroughly entertained.

She watched with horror as he laid his cards on the table with a decisive snap of his wrist, revealing a hand that made Harriet's heart plummet to the floor.

A tricon landed on the table.

A strangled groan of defeat tore from Harriet's throat. There would be no clawing out of the wager, she knew.

"Well," Hugh drawled, leaning back in his chair with an air of supreme self-satisfaction. "It would appear that the victory is mine, aye? And as such, I believe... I am owed a favor."

Harriet could only stare at him, the words sticking in her throat and refusing to leave her lips. "What do you want?" she managed at last.

A grin, far more amused than any she'd seen before, appeared on his lips.

"A dance," he answered simply, and Harriet frowned.

"Your Grace," she almost laughed, "Are we not meant to dance at the very next ball anyway? It seems like a silly thing to wager."

It was far too good to be true, Harriet knew, and she looked at him suspiciously. Hugh, however, was not dissuaded by her words. Instead, he merely grinned.

"Nay, my lady," he insisted in a low voice. "I want a second dance."

Blood rushed to her cheeks at that and she stared at him, shell-shocked. Hugh merely looked at her with a grin - seemingly rather pleased with the reaction he had garnered from her.