Not impressed with his friend’s humor, he sat just as Harewood handed him another glass. He sniffed it first before tasting. “Whisky?”
“Not as good as yours, but it will warm you from the inside out.” Harewood sat in the second wingback chair before the fireplace. “Now tell me what has occurred.”
He stared at the amber liquor, trying to make sense of what happened. “She refused.”
“To post the banns?”
“No, to marry me.”
“She can’t.” Harewood put his glass down with force and stood. “You had an agreement. I witnessed it and so did her sister. You fulfilled your part of it, now she must fulfill hers. We can force her to the altar.”
That was true. Not only did they have an agreement, but he’d also taken liberties with her person. So he could force her, but to what end? “And live with a woman who hates me for the rest of my life? If I wanted that, I could just marry Lady Garmoyle and have my end faster than expected.” The whisky warmed him up as Harewood had said, but it also thawed the numbness, and his chest began to hurt.
“Why did she refuse?”
“Because I need her dowry.” The pain grew stronger, making his stomach tense.
“You told her that before you married her?” Harewood moved to the fireplace and leaned against the mantle. “I specifically told you not to.”
And so he had. “Yes, but I thought…” What had he thought? That she loved him? That she would be happy to help those at her future home? “I misread her. I thought she cared, but I was wrong.” As he looked back on their time together, he couldn’t fault himself for thinking she cared. Maybe it was simply that he had inspired her, and so she cared for him in that single moment. “Like a bowl of fruit.”
“What does a bowl of fruit have to do with telling her you need her dowry?” A small tick beneath Harewood’s ear started. A sure sign he was furious.
Why would he be angry? He never expected Amelia to accept him to begin with. “Why did you suggest Lady Amelia as a wife for me?”
Harewood waved him off. “I told you, because she has a substantial dowry.”
As if to avoid his own pain, he focused in on Harewood. “No, it was more than that. Did you hope to keep your mother from instigating a marriage between you and Lady Amelia?”
“That would simply be a convenience.” He pulled at his cuff. “I just thought you two would suit. She’s an artist and you like art.”
As if a distraction was exactly what he’d needed, he looked askance at Harewood. “And…”
The man shrugged. “That’s all.”
“No, there’s more. I’ve known you a long time. What aren’t you telling me?”
Harewood lifted his glass and took a hefty swallow. Then he glanced at him and took another swallow.
He waited patiently, determined to know it all.
“I thought she would make you happy.”
The words were mumbled in such a soft tone, that he was sure he’d misheard. “Did you say you thought she would make me happy?”
Harewood rose again. “Yes.” Then he strode to the sidebar. “Would you like another?”
The pain he’d been ignoring suddenly roared to life, taking his breath away. That even stoic Harewood thought Amelia was for him added to his agony. She was supposed to fall in love with him. He’d never expected he’d fall in love with her. Understanding dawned, and he looked around the wing of the chair at Harewood. “You knew we’d suit. How?”
“I know the Mabrys. Though we avoided them when you visited, that was not possible for me when you were not about. After Belinda died, I would have done anything to avoid them, but my parents and theirs were too close. I saw each sister as they grew. It did not take much deduction or foresight to realize that Lady Amelia would make you the perfect wife.”
Tired of craning his neck, he rose, almost sorry he did as his stomach roiled. “If you thought that, then why did you expect her to turn me down?”
Harewood sighed as he swirled his whisky. “Because she wasn’t ready to marry yet, but you needed a wife now. I thought the whole notion ill-timed.”
He gripped the chair hard, his heart aching, tightening his entire chest. “But she said yes. And you thought all would end happily.” He grimaced and held his hand out. “But you were wrong. She doesn’t care about me. She doesn’t care about anyone. She is simply a well-polished lady who does and says what she’s supposed to.”
“No, you are wrong about that.” Harewood shook his head.
