Harriet looked away, face twisting in anger.
“I do not wish to know. I really do not.”
“Well, what about you?” Jeremy said, accusingly.
“What about me?” Harriet challenged back, eyes shining with defiance.
“You are promised to Henri de Rouvroy!” Jeremy barked, “I did not see you reject him or identify me as your betrothed. And you have openly said that you had to debate with yourself which of usyou would choose. I am glad that I made such an impression that the choice was not an easy one.”
Jeremy knew that his words were thick with derision and sarcasm. It came from bitterness at the events fate had spun out for the pair of them. He was lashing out, and she did not deserve it. But he could not lash out at anyone else. Harriet's eyes widened.
“How could I do anything but what I have done?” she gasped. “I have openly defied my brother, and who knows what he will do in retaliation! I expect to be locked up until the wedding at the very least.”
“You could have come to me and I would have—”
“What? Sheltered me? Introduced me to your wife? Perhaps employ me as nurse to your son so I could see your happy, perfect family from close proximity?!”
They were both shouting now, birds long since frightened out of the trees around them. Jeremy did not care. He stared into Harriet's ferocious eyes. They challenged him, defied him. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to tame them, to conquer her…
But it was too late. She was promised to another, and so was he.
Fate had decided against their finding each other.
And she takes me to task over doing my duty? What choice did I have? There is only one choice when a man fathers a child out of wedlock. I am finally behaving responsibly, but receive no credit or recognition.
He fumed, looking away to disguise the anger on his face.
“What happened between Florence and I occurred before we met, before all of this began. I had no way of knowing it would lead to this, and no other choice now that it has happened. Honor sets my path!”
“How convenient that honor sets your path now but did not at the Chelmsfords’ ball,” Harriet muttered, her voice a mixture of weariness and anger. Her weariness was contagious, it seeped into him, taking the heat from his anger and leaving him cold.
It is a terrible shame that it has come to this. We are on diverging paths where once I hoped we were converging.
“Isn’t it just?” he said, icily.
Harriet was quiet for a moment, watching his face. She gave a sharp nod.
“It did not end well, did it? At the beginning, I did not see how it could, but I allowed myself to be persuaded. I was the more foolish. Farewell, then.”
She turned and walked away. Jeremy felt an irrational urge to go after her. To stop her, take her in his arms. But he stamped on the feeling brutally. That was not an option that was open to him any longer. She wanted him out of her life and to marry another. He would let her.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jeremy stared down into the crib. The room, which had been given to the infant and his nursemaid, had once been a playroom. It had long since been given over to dust and time. Jeremy had no children, or at least none that he knew of, and had not missed them. He was content for the playroom to remain unused and abandoned.
And now I have a child. One that I did not know existed until now. And a duty that goes beyond any petty ambitions or desires of mine. I gave up the El Dorado for Harriet. Now I must give her up for my son…
He sighed tiredly. The infant slept, and Jeremy tried to feel some kinship with the tiny bundle. He could not.
Perhaps that is to be expected. Perhaps those feelings develop in the fullness of time. He is my son, or he would not have the birthmark. That must surely be hereditary.
Turning away, he left the room. There was an emptiness in his chest where his heart should have been filling him with love and warmth. A woman he had once thought that he loved returned to him. A son and heir presented to him. That alone was enough to make most men happy. To make them proud.
Jeremy felt nothing except loss.
“You seem to carry the weight of the world,” Florence whispered as he quietly closed the door of the playroom, now the nursery.
He looked around in surprise. She had changed into one of the gowns that she had left behind, which he had commissioned for her a year ago. Not one of the ballgowns, but a dress of light material and bright colors. Perfectly suited for summer and Florence's coloring. She stood before him, smiling shyly.
