“That is enough,” Simon cut her off prematurely. “I know that you get great pleasure bringing that up, but it would be better for you to look towards the future.”
Our shared future?Harriet’s heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that Simon had somehow changed his mind about their arrangement?
Without preamble, he said, “We will be attending a ball tomorrow night.”
Harriet’s hand paused mid-motion, her knife hovering over her plate. She looked up at Simon, surprised by the sudden announcement.
Oh. He meant a much more immediate future than I imagined.
“A ball?”
Simon nodded, his expression giving nothing away. “Now that I have returned, it is expected that I attend some social events. Lord and Lady Whitmore are hosting, and it would be remiss of us not to make an appearance.”
Harriet felt a mixture of emotions at the news. On one hand, she had been craving the opportunity to step back into society, to escape the confines of the manor and remind herself of the world beyond. On the other, the thought of attending a ball with Simon, of being seen together in public as a married couple, made her heart race with nervous anticipation.
Simon seemed to notice her hesitation, and he continued. “If you need a new gown for the occasion, I can arrange for a modiste to come to the house and have one made quickly.”
Harriet blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. His words struck a nerve. The implication that she might be unprepared, that she might not have the appropriate attire for such an event, felt like an unintentional slight.
Her response was sharper than she intended. “I already have plenty of gowns that would be appropriate for the occasion, Simon. I’ve had no chance to wear them, of course, for reasons that you already know well.”
Simon seemed unaffected by her insult. His expression remained calm, his gaze unwavering as he regarded her. “I see,”he said simply, his tone even, betraying none of the emotions that Harriet had hoped to provoke.
The silence between them was thick with tension, and Harriet found herself unable to meet his gaze. She busied herself with her breakfast, but her appetite had all but vanished.
They both seemed to be far too occupied with their thoughts. The sound of forks raking against the plates, or that of glasses clinking against the cutlery was the only thing that was heard.
Until…
Simon spoke again, his voice measured.
“Harriet, would you have preferred living with a stranger and giving up the freedom that you apparently wanted?”
Harriet’s fork clattered onto her plate, the noise sharp in the otherwise quiet room. She looked up at him, stunned by the directness of his question.
“Whatdo you mean?”
Simon leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady as he regarded her. “Is that not what you desired? Freedom from the constraints of marriage? Independence? I left because I believed it was what you wanted. Neither of us wished for this marriage, and I thought you would prefer to live your life as you pleased.”
Harriet's mind raced. It was true that she had valued her independence, that she had feared marriage would strip her of the freedom she cherished. But she had never imagined that Simon’s distance was meant to grant her that freedom.
“You left because you thought it was what I wanted?” she repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Simon, you proposed to me after the scandal. You made a commitment?—”
“A commitment neither of us wanted, ” Simon interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “You know as well as I do that this marriage was never something we chose. Circumstances forced us into it, and I never had any intention of truly being your husband. ”
Harriet’s breath caught in her throat, her emotions swirling in a storm of confusion, hurt, and anger. “You never wanted to marry, ” she said slowly, piecing together his confession. “But then… why propose at all? Why not simply let the scandal take its course? ”
Simon’s eyes darkened, and Harriet could see a flicker of something deeper in his expression — something that hinted at a past pain he had yet to share.
But, before she could probe further, Simon shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.
“It was my duty,” he said finally, his tone more guarded now.
“That is what you have always maintained,” Harriet brought up. She had not expected to be having a conversation like this over breakfast, but now that they had started, she was not going to back down. “But Simon, there has to be more to it.”
Was it wishful thinking? Or just a way to protect her own ego from getting maimed. Whichever it was, Harriet wished dearly for there to be some other reason than justdutybehind his proposal.
“I do not see how this conversation helps you in any way…”
