“—Ralph?” Harriet gaped.
Her brother grinned as he stormed into the room and seized Harriet in a wild embrace.
“I have missed you, sister! And worried. How I have worried from being so far away! But I am back now. How did you like my present?”
Harriet returned his embrace, bewildered.
“Present…?” she asked.
“Why, Henri de Rouvroy, of course!” Ralph bellowed. “A better match for you I could not hope to find! Do you know that he is coveted by the princesses of Europe? Only the fact of his nationality has prevented his family from arranging a match for him with the royal family of Sweden, Denmark, or Belgium! The French are still not forgiven for Napoleon, you see? And I have another present, though I am almost saddened to give it to you.”
He held an envelope, sealed with an official stamp bearing the royal crest of the Hanovers.
“From the Prince Regent, to me, to you,” Ralph chimed with a sparkle in his eyes.
Harriet took the envelope, speechless, a fact that Ralph was oblivious to in his enthusiastic excitement. She opened it, fingers trembling. Fear gripped her.
If Ralph is home, then leaving to see Jeremy will be much more difficult. Impossible even. Ralph might actually lock me away. Or challenge Jeremy to a duel! I could lose my brother and the man I am beginning to love…
Unfolding the letter, she read a legal declaration written in an elaborate hand and sealed with the signature of the Prince Regent. It was a special license for marriage, and it was signed by… Henri de Rouvroy. Her face fell.
“I signed it on your behalf,” Ralph enthused, “it permits you to marry immediately! And I think that would be wise. Henri is returning to his estates outside of Paris in two weeks. Not much time to arrange a wedding, for certain, but I am determined to make the most of it. How's that for a welcome home, eh?”
The paper shook in Harriet's hands. It spelled the end of a chapter of her life. One that she felt she was still writing. The conclusion had been taken away from her, abruptly underlined by her brother, and the page turned. She looked up into Ralph's face, seeing his bright, expectant look.
He expects me to jump for joy. To be deliriously happy. I can think of no reason why I would not be unless there was another man I wished to marry. Will he see that? He must not!
“Are you not happy?” Ralph grinned, “I felt sure you would be.”
“Yes, I am happy,” Harriet began, falteringly, “I truly am...”
“Your face says otherwise, Hattie,” he said, his smile fading.
He stepped back from his sister, regarding her with narrowed eyes.
“Beecham tells me that you have disobeyed my standing orders regarding leaving Oaksgrove without a proper chaperone. That you have conspired with our grandmother to go to London and elsewhere, alone. That you have even roamed the countryside at night. I was shocked and appalled, I must say, and it influenced my desire to see you married soon. I fear there is a wildness in you that will only grow stronger. Mama and Papa were much the same, and look what happened to them.”
“I have pushed at the bounds you have set for me,” Harriet mumbled, carefully, “but only from a desire to experience something of the world. And I was never in any danger. I just wanted... to walk in Hyde Park, or see the National Gallery, or...”
“Is there a man involved?” Ralph asked suddenly.
“No, of course not!” Harriet replied immediately.
Ralph watched her, tapping a finger against his chin.
“There have been rumors which I have scarcely been able to credit. They are so fanciful as to be beyond belief. Thankfully. Because if they were true or even half true, I should be extremely displeased with the gentleman concerned.”
“And who might that be?” Harriet's knees were shaking and she walked to the window seat on the other side of her bed, sitting lest Ralph notice the trembling.
“My old friend the Duke of Penhaligon,” Ralph said quietly, hawk-like eyes intent on Harriet.
“Penhaligon! What must you think of me to suspect as much, Ralphie!” She forced a laugh. “He is a notorious rake, and I am not the kind of woman to consider such men attractive.”
She prayed that she sounded believable, credible, and suitably insulted by the association of her name with Jeremy's.
“You have not seen him in public, then?” he asked.
“Well, he was in Hyde Park when I was promenading with Jane. He was also at the Theater Royal, Drury Lane, recently, where I was seeing a play. I believe he is seeing a French lady also named de Rouvroy—Eloise,I think her name is.”
