It was her deepest fear — that something was wrong with her. That her mother had been right all these years, that she wasdifferent, not like her sisters.That she was unlovable.
“Harriet…” Simon sounded wounded, like someone had just shot an arrow through his heart.
“Please,” Harriet straightened her back, though composing herself seemed just as impossible as gathering water in a flowing stream. “If that is the case, then you must tell me.”
Simon held her firmly by the shoulders, and gave her a small shake. “Do not speak of yourself like this.”
She looked back at him, eyes filled with tears. “Then, what is it?”
Simon pulled back, and Harriet felt as though another wall had been constructed between them. He had a knack of doing this, pulling away whenever they got too close to another.
“It has nothing to do with you,” he admitted finally.
Was that supposed to make Harriet feel better? It certainly did not. It only served to deepen the hollowness of her stomach.
Quietly, he took her hand in his. “Because I’m not the man you think I am. I’m not capable of giving you the kind of life you want, the kind of life you deserve. I’ve spent too many years alone, too many years trying to escape my past. I can’t change who I am, Harriet.”
A fresh bunch of tears began streaming down Harriet’s cheeks, and Simon wiped them away with his own fingers.
“It hurts me when you cry like this,” he admitted.
“I cannot help it,” she sniffled, unable to will herself to stop. Her open wound needed more than just words to salve it.
Once again, Simon brought her to his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, it was faster than a running horse. He had never been this openly affectionate with her, or at all. It was a different side to him, and one that she would have appreciated a great deal, if she were not in the middle of such an intense emotional outburst.
“Harriet…” Simon started, and began to stand up, bringing her up with him. He adjusted the front of his shirt, which had been stained with Harriet’s tears and wrinkled, and then he cleared his throat.
“I cannot give you the marriage that you are hoping for,” his tone was measured, and he made a point to look straight into her eyes. “But I can give you something — something that might make this easier for you.”
Harriet looked at him, confusion and hurt swirling in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“If you want a child, Harriet — a child of your own — I can give you that. I can give you a baby to keep you company, to give you a purpose when I’m gone.”
Harriet stared at him, her mind reeling from his words. She had expected him to reject her feelings, to push her away as he had done before. But this… this was something entirely different, something she hadn’t anticipated.
For once, the Duke of Atherton was… offering a compromise.
“You’re offering to… to give me a child?” her voice trembled as she spoke.
Simon nodded, his expression serious. “Yes. If that’s what you want, I’ll stay long enough to give you a child. And then, whenthe time comes, I’ll leave, and you can raise the baby on your own.”
Harriet felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing — that Simon would offer her such a thing so casually, as if it were a simple transaction. The idea of having a child — his child — without him in her life felt like a cruel twist of fate.
“No, Simon,” she said, her voice firm despite the tears that still clung to her lashes. “I don’t want a child without you. I don’t want to be left behind to raise a baby on my own while you run away to Bath…”
His face twisted with confusion. “I cannot understand you, Harriet. You wanted motherhood, and I can provide you the opportunity.”
“I want us to be together,” Harriet blurted out, feeling her heart ripping out of her chest. “I want you not to leave me.”
“I cannot give you that,” Simon replied, training his gaze to the floor as though he did not want to see the hurt he was causing her. “But my offer still stands.”
Offer. Opportunity. Agreements.She hated how he phrased these things. It made everything feel like a transaction — impersonal. Nothing that you would expect from a marriage.
“Think about it,” Simon said softly, his own voice breaking as he stepped back from her. “I’ll give you time to decide. But know that whatever you choose, I’ll support you.”
With that, Simon turned and left the room, leaving Harriet standing there, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces. She wanted to scream, to chase after him and demand that he stay, that he fight for what they could have together. But instead, she sank to her knees, her tears soaking into the carpet as the full weight of her emotions crashed down on her.
She was in love with a man who could never love her back — a man who was willing to give her a child, but not his heart. And as much as she wanted to refuse his offer, to tell him that she didn’t want a baby if it meant losing him, Harriet knew that the thought of him leaving her hurt more than anything she had ever experienced.
