“I am not responsible for Cromby’s tongue.”
Answering for himself but accepting no charge?Harriet smiled but didn’t retort, moving to step past him.
He moved with her. “Given your circumstances, Lady Harriet, I thought you would not be averse to accepting me as your husband.”
“Mycircumstances? You know nothing about me, sir!”
He cocked his head to the side. “I know you’ve yet to favor a gentleman. I know your suitors these days are comprised of fortune hunters.”
“Have you been spying on me?”
“Not spying, no. Noticing.”
Honestly, what did she do with a statement such as that? Tuck it away for further examination later? Embrace it as God’s truth? Disregard it as one of those things mensayto get their way?
“Setting aside your candid revelation,” Harriet said, albeit a bit too dryly, “do not expect me to favoryouany time soon.
“I am no fortune hunter.”
“Yes, yes. You are a marquess, wealthy, and honorable. I, however, remain unconvinced.”
That dark gaze burned into her. “What will convince you?”
“Nothing,” she said and darted past him before he could move to intercept her, and as she passed him, she snatched the document from his fingers, her mother’s last words echoing through her mind.Harriet, sweetheart, do not marry a man who would not fight for you. Promise me.
I promise.
A loud curse was the last thing she heard before she broke into a run.
*
Finally. He’d spokento her.
And it felt bloody breathtaking.
And thoroughly hellish.
William Fitzgerald Hamilton, the third Marquess of Leeds and better known as Will amongst close friends, had always considered himself a levelheaded man.
Until the first moment he laid eyes on Harriet Hillstow.
A day he had never forgotten.
He’d been riding in Hyde Park when he spotted her leaning against a tree in a pretty white day dress with lace trimmings with her nose deep in a book. The wind had swept up tendrils of escaped curls and she’d laughed as another gust flipped through the pages of her book causing her to lose her place.
The scene had riveted him to the spot. That had been the moment his awareness of Harriet Hillstow had awakened. After that, he noticed her at balls and events and found himself surprised that she kept company with the wallflowers of theton.
He’d never believed that she belonged in a row along the wall with all those timid creatures. She belonged at the center of all the stars. The more he studied this beguiling wallflower, the more his awareness of her soared.
He only had one problem.
Will had always been terrible at conversing with women. As a boy, he’d stutter in times of utmost pressure. This agitation seemed to present worse in the presence of girls. With time, his stammer had cleared to some extent, but his sentences had dried up into uncomfortable, short, and stunted responses. So much so that he eventually stopped interacting altogether in fraught circumstances—with women in particular. It was much easier to avoid painfully awkward conversations than to be in the midst of them.
Until this woman.
Lady Harriet.
He wanted to interact with her. So, he had tried on multiple occasions, but she flabbergasted him every time with her beauty, her grace, and he ended up losing his voice even before he approached her. The times he did manage to drag his feet within talking distance, his mind drew a complete blank andhe continued straight past her without so much as a glance. An unprepared mind equaled a slew of stutters.
