Chapter 7

Where she sat at her writing desk the following morning, a deep frown decorated Harriet's brow. Her quill sat in her hand, poised over a fresh sheet of parchment as she searched for the right words. Apologizing was not something that came natural to her, especially when a part of her bristled at the memory of Hugh's dismissive arrogance.

"Keep an open heart and mind," her mother's words echoed in her mind.

She breathed deeply before lowering the quill onto the parchment.

Your Grace,

I find myself compelled to address the unfortunate events of our previous encounter...

No. she decided quickly, grimacing at the formality of her phrasing. This would never do - Hugh was not the sort of man to appreciate niceties and pretense. She took a deep breath again and crumpled the piece of parchment, starting anew.

Sir,

Though our interactions thus far have been contentious, I will admit that your demeanor and lack of propriety in addressing such a delicate proposal ignited my temper in an unseemly manner. For that, I offer my sincere regrets...

Again, she crumpled the piece of parchment.

Sir. I cannot repent my actions. As an independent woman of strong convictions, I have grown accustomed to making my own choices. Still, I do admit that your proposal perhaps ignited my temper in an unseemly manner.

You are a man of the world and surely must understand my reluctance to be treated as a mere pawn to be strategically positioned as you and my brother see fit.

The words suddenly flowed more easily now, raw honesty replacing the artifice as she laid her truth bare upon the page. When at last she put her quill aside, Harriet felt a strange sense of lightness, as though a weighty burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

She exhaled steadily, folded the parchment, and dripped a stick of violet wax to seal it before ringing for a footman. As she handed off the fateful letter, a faint spark of possibility flickered to life within her.

Over the course of the day, Harriet found herself increasingly consumed with the anxious hope of receiving word from Hugh. She paced her bedchamber like a caged tiger, alternating between casting furtive glances towards the door and berating herself for such unbecoming impatience.

By mid-afternoon, the suspense had mounted to such dizzying heights that she found herself utterly incapable of maintaining her composure a moment longer. Impulsively, she rang for her lady's maid and then hastily bundled herself into a fashionably understated walking dress and cloak. Dressed, she moved towards the carriage where she leaned back her head.

"Yeats Manor, please," she announced. The driver nodded and Harriet breathed a sigh of relief when the carriage came to a halt in front of Caroline's home. She made her way towards the door eagerly, then knocked firmly.

"Lady Harriet," the doorman greeted her with a smile and Harriet nodded at him, her shoulders immediately relaxing. "Is the Duchess at home?" she asked eagerly and he nodded.

"Yes, your ladyship. She is in the orangery, I am sure you will be welcomed there."

Harriet nodded quickly. Luckily, there had never been any sense of decorum between Caroline and herself and as such she felt more than comfortable making her way to the orangery.

Caroline was seated on a sofa, book in hand, when Harriet entered. Her expression brightened when she noticed her friend and she set the book aside immediately, rising to embrace her.

"Harriet, what an unexpected delight," she greeted warmly. "I was wondering how you were after... everything."

Caroline looked at her friend worriedly. "Forgive me for speaking bluntly," she said and gestured for Harriet to sit, "but I was quite surprised at all that happened. It... Certainly that was not a part of your plan?"

Harriet sighed and shook her head.

"You are right," she admitted. "It was not. But I do have a bit of a... situation... now."

Caroline arched an eloquent brow. "Whatever do you mean?"

Harriet sighed. "William is furious," she explained - and Caroline nodded slowly. "I am not surprised," she said carefully. "I know your brother and... I did not expect him to take this well at all."

Harriet pursed her lips. "Well... will you believe that he arranged an audience with the Duke and had him propose to me?"

At this, Caroline's eyes widened with joy. "You are getting married?"

Harriet shook her head quickly. "I... have not said yes. Yet." she admitted. "I... I may have objected to his proposal."

"Oh, Harriet," Caroline looked at her friend with a laugh and Harriet turned red. "I know, I know," she admitted. "He was just so... cold about it. And it had me worried. I... should I marry a man I scarcely know to preserve what tattered shreds of propriety remain? Or condemn my whole family to ruination?"

Caroline looked at her friend worriedly.

"Harriet," she said at last, speaking slowly as she searched for words. "When I married Benedict, I did not know him at all. And I was terrified... but now, looking back, I would not have any other husband. I love him."

"But I don't love Hugh," Harriet interjected quickly. "And... I don't know, I always thought that I'd only marry a man I loved - like my mother. And now, I am at a risk of losing that possibility all because of a woeful misunderstanding."

At this, Caroline frowned.

"I admit, I am quite curious about this misunderstanding," she said simply and Harriet sighed.

"I know," she said and shook her head. "It was mad, but I swear nothing happened. I was merely on the balcony and I... Oh, all that matters is that nothing happened between us."

Nothing more needed to be said - Caroline believed her, and Harriet looked at her desperately.

"You married... not for love, but because your father made you marry Benedict and I know that it turned out well for you, but... do you truly believe it could turn out well for me?"

Caroline shrugged and shook her head sympathetically. "I don't know, my friend," she admitted. "But perhaps you ought to attempt to... speak... to Frighton?"

Harriet sighed deeply. "I have... taken steps to reopen the lines of communication, I suppose," she said. "I penned a letter to the Duke this morning in hopes of clearing the air between us and talking."

Caroline lifted an impressed brow at this. "You did that? Of your own accord?"

Harriet nodded resolutely and Caroline laughed - a sound so filled with joy and delight that Harriet could not help but echo a smile.

"That is quite bold of you," Caroline teased. "But I do think that extending an olive branch was a clever thing to do."

"Bold and clever," Harriet teased. "I hope it does not come back to haunt me."

The two friends shared a warm chuckle and Harriet leaned closer to her friend, allowing Caroline to pat her head in a comforting manner.

"I am so glad you are here," she said softly. Caroline hesitated, her hand stilling on Harriet's head.

"There is... something I ought to tell you, I suppose. About Benedict and me," she said hesitantly and Harriet sat up quickly, looking at her worriedly.

"What is the matter?"

"Oh, no," Caroline laughed, though her eyes were wrought with sympathy. "It's just... Benedict's business affairs require us to return to our country estate for the foreseeable future. We will be departing London tomorrow in the morn."

The admission hung between them, weighty and unspoken implications swirling through the air in its wake. Harriet pressed her fingertips to her lips, struggling down to tamp the anguished sense of dread swelling within her.

The thought of carrying on through this trying time without Caroline's steadfast presence by her side was an unspeakably bleak prospect - so much so that she could scarcely give it credence. How would she possibly navigate the treacherous waters of her impending disgrace without her dearest confidante and friend to buoy her?

"Oh, Harriet..." It was clear that Caroline sensed her inner turmoil, for she hastened to assuage it, blinking rapidly as she settled herself on the wrought iron bench and patted the space beside her invitingly. "Now, now," she admonished softly. "Let us have none of that dreadful gloom just yet. I'll always be there for whatever you need, even if I am in the country. And I will expect letters often - detailing every new scandal of mischief that you contrive."

Harriet sniffed softly at this and shook her head. "Me? Contrive mischief? What a mad thing to say."

Caroline laughed softly and leaned forward, giving Harriet's hand a soft squeeze. Harriet swallowed hard against the lump of tears constricting her throat and she shot Caroline a shaky smile. "Perhaps you are right," she managed. "I shall simply have to come up with an idea to continue terrorizing the unfortunate bachelors of the ton until you return to reestablish order."

Caroline chuckled softly and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to the top of Harriet's head. "That is my brave friend," she murmured, then gave her hand one final, comforting squeeze before rising gracefully to her feet. "I do hope, Harriet, that you and Frighton can manage to speak."

Harriet rose too, tears forming in her eyes. It would have been easier, she knew, to manage all she had to do with Caroline by her side. But she also knew that her friend would not leave unless she knew full well that Harriet would be all right.

"You ought to pack," Harriet insisted and sniffed. "Take care of yourself, my dearest friend - and please... write to me. Often."

"I will," Caroline promised and Harriet nodded at her before making her way out of the orangery and back to the waiting carriage. She looked at the driver impulsively, then flashed him a smile.

"Go," she encouraged the man. "I will walk. Thank you."

The driver nodded, albeit hesitantly. A lifetime of working for Jennifer Lourne, however, had taught him that the Lourne women were not bound by the expectations of society and he rode off without a word.

As she made her way slowly along the winding pathways, she could not quite shake the melancholy that had settled over her at the prospect of Caroline"s imminent departure.

So lost was she in her own gloomy reverie that she failed to register the hushed whispers and sidelong glances until she was nearly halfway home. Only then did she notice the loose knot of matrons attired in all their sartorial finery, fans fluttering incessantly as they darted judgmental looks in Harriet"s direction.

Her steps slowed instinctively, shoulders stiffening beneath the weight of their open scrutiny. Chin lifted in defiant refusal to afford them an ounce of satisfaction, she swept past, perfectly composed except for the telltale flush that stained her cheeks.

"The scandal," one whispered as she passed. "Lady Harriet Lourne. Can you believe that she dares show her face in the ton after being caught with the Scottish duke?"

"Has she no shame?" whispered another - the words drifting towards her. Harriet froze as the last woman addressed her, her voice far sharper than those of the women around her.

"You ought to hide away," she exclaimed cruelly and Harriet pivoted slowly, regarding Lady Granfouly with a cool stare. The aging matron"s face was a pinched mask of disdain, her sharp nose wrinkling in distaste as she appraised Harriet from behind the lace veil of her bonnet.

Before Harriet could formulate a withering response, Lady Granfouly"s granddaughter sidled up beside her, a sly smile curling her youthful lips. "Now, now, Grandmother, that"s hardly fair," she chided with exaggerated sweetness, dark eyes glinting with barely concealed malice. "Poor Lady Harriet is doubtless quite overwhelmed by the... circumstances surrounding her recent, ah, indiscretions. I am certain she is merely not thinking, by being out in polite society."

The younger woman trailed one pristine-gloved finger idly along the satiny material of her spencer as she spoke, letting the innuendo-laden words linger in the air with pointed implication.

Harriet opened and closed her mouth, a thousand responses running through her mind. Then, without a word, she turned on her heel and made her way back to her own home.