“I believe the term is actually ‘marriage of convenience’.”
“What if I don’t want,” his voice lowered, causing all sorts of tingles to rush over her skin, “a marriage of convenience?”
“What marriage do you want then?”
“A real one.”
Harriet glanced at him, blinking as his visage blurred a bit. Still, she understood his words, and she laughed. “There cannot be a real marriage.”
“Why not?”
She sent him a smug smile. “You haven’t earned the right to a real marriage.”
*
Will stared athis wife, half amused and half at a loss for words. A truly intriguing woman. Moonlight spilled through the half-drawn drapes, casting long shadows across the carpeted floorand over her. She grinned at him, and he swore, as he always had, the sun had set on her lips, such was the effect of her smile.
He had seen a similar scene before, only it was in her home, the evening they first met in person. Only, she didn’t remember that night, that moment.
She didn’t remember him.
A few months before the list of heiresses hit the betting book of White’s, he’d been invited to her house for dinner to discuss a property deal with Hatton and some others. She hadn’t been present for the dinner, but on his way out, Will had heard her laugher, and like a sailor to a siren’s call, he followed it all the way to the library. The moment was still vivid in his memory.
“Shall I embark on a journey of spinsterhood? Is that my fate? It must be hard being a dream...”
“Are you all right?” Will asked.
“Who are you?”
“I am William.”
She scrunched her brows. “I do not know a William. What are you doing here?”
“I had business with your father.” His gaze shifted to the glass pinched between her fingers. “I believe the more important question is what are you doing, my lady?”
“I’m having a deep conversation which you have interrupted.”
“A conversation?” He glanced around the room. “With books?”
“Why not?” she challenged. “They are great listeners. They don’t judge or criticize.”
“I think you have had too much to drink, my lady.”
“So they’ve been telling me. Well, since you are here, you might as well have some use.” Blue eyes—almost the color ofthe clear, blue ocean—stared at him with renewed calculation. “Carry me back to my room.”
Will blinked. “What?”
“You heard me, William, Knight of Hillstow. Carry me back to my room.”
“Lady Harriet. You are drunk.”
“I shall not deny it.”
Will cocked his head has he regarded her. This was the first time they’d met after he had glimpsed her reading beneath the tree. And it was nothing like he expected.
“Very well. This Knight of Hillstow shall carry you up to you room. Please tell me the way.”
“Much obliged.”
