Harry frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. “I do not. Indeed, I know nothing. I am ignorant of her likes and dislikes, her habits, and whether she enjoys rising early or sleeping late. I know nothing about the woman who is to become my wife. Is that not a sad state of affairs?”
“Have you and Lady Arabella not conversed at all these past two weeks?” Brandon asked.
Harry shook his head. He had taken Arabella to the theatre once, and they had promenaded after church the last two Sundays, as she had requested. Yet, she had scarcely uttered two words to him. Despite his best efforts to engage her in conversation, he had been met with nothing but icy silence or monosyllabic responses.
In some ways, it might be for the best.
He could not allow himself to grow too close to her; it would be unwise for them both. Still, he had hoped to learn something about the woman who would share his life.
“The Duchess appears uninterested in conversation with me, but perhaps it is just as well,” he told Brandon. “I expect we shall see her sisters, Lady Emma and Lady Hanna, frequently. They must also be made comfortable.”
Brandon nodded, tilting his head slightly as he observed him. “I will see to it.”
Harry watched his valet for a moment longer before clearing his throat. “Brandon, Lady Arabella may be curious about her new home. She is to have the freedom to explore as she wishes, but if she begins to inquire about certain matters, do inform me. And ensure that the staff knows to discuss only what is necessary. Especially Mabel, Mr. Baxter, and Mrs. Blomquist,” he added, naming Arabella’s lady’s maid, his butler, and the housekeeper.
“Of course. They are aware, but I will remind them.”
After a pause, Brandon tentatively asked, “Do you think it wise to keep secrets from your new wife?”
Harry looked at his valet and chuckled softly. “Brandon, your confidence in me and our relationship emboldens you to ask such a question. If it were anyone else, I would have had them dismissed from my service immediately.”
Brandon smirked. “It is good to know that you hold me in such high esteem. Besides, some questions demand to be asked.”
“And some questions cannot be answered,” Harry replied with a shrug. “I do not wish to keep secrets from my wife, even if our marriage is one of convenience. But there are matters that cannot be avoided.”
“Of course. I believe I hear the carriage,” Brandon said.
Harry followed him outside. It was time to drive to Hayward Manor to get married. Given Arabella’s disinterest in the wedding, they had decided on a small ceremony in the chapel on the grounds. At Lord Worcester’s insistence, a grand wedding breakfast would be held at home, with all of the town in attendance. Harry already dreaded it, but it was what it was—one of the compromises he had reached with the Earl.
He stepped into the carriage.
“You look presentable,” his uncle said, settling in beside him. “Fit for St. George’s Hanover Square, I daresay. I still think you ought to have been married at St. George’s. It is more befitting of a duke.”
“Perhaps Lady Arabella felt more comfortable marrying at her family chapel,” Harry replied, though he was uncertain. Arabella had merely shrugged when he had inquired about it.
“Well, we must keep her happy. At least we have the wedding breakfast. We must make connections. Now that you are to be married, it will solidify your position. It is unfortunate that Worcester commands so little respect in Society and the House of Lords.”
“At least he has a seat in the House of Lords,” Harry countered, earning a glare from his uncle.
His uncle’s lack of a title had long been a source of irritation, and sometimes Harry found it difficult to resist reminding him of it.
“Do not forget that without me, you would not enjoy the esteem you command today,” his uncle retorted, bitterness lacing his words. “And do not forget what I told you. She may be your wife, but there are matters we must keep strictly within the family.”
“Indeed. I have not forgotten that my wife will never truly be part of our family. You have made that abundantly clear.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “Must you be so dramatic? You may have a family with her, produce an heir. I understand that some bonds are stronger than marriage, even a child. But do not forget the secrets we share and the importance of keeping them.”
Harry took a deep breath, feeling the weight on his chest. Richard’s secrets—they were more loathsome than he could ever express. “Very well. I shall keep our secrets, Uncle. But you must realize that it cannot continue this way forever.”
“Oh? I thought we had a most agreeable arrangement, you and I. Do you not think so?”
“Our arrangement is agreeable for you and you alone,” Harry replied coolly.
A frigid silence fell over them before his uncle cleared his throat. “Have you informed your beloved Helen that you are to be married?”
At the mention of Helen, Harry’s heart panged.
“I have. If you ever bothered to call on her, you might know, but that would be too much to expect, wouldn’t it?”
