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Well, that settled the matter. It couldn’t possibly be Harry if her mother knew and was not surprised. Mariah tried to ignore the hard lump of disappointment sinking in her stomach. She couldn’t dwell on that now, not while she had to get through this ordeal with some semblance of grace. She merely looked at her mother in question.

Mama smiled, coming forward to cup her cheek. “Just think, my dear—you would be a countess. Are you not pleased?”

She forced a grim smile. “Actually, Mama... I must confess, I—I haven’t the slightest idea of whom we’re speaking.”

Mama dropped her hand. “Really, Mariah, how could you not know? The Earl of Hartwood.”

Oh. Him. Mariah felt a wave of relief. Lord Hartwood was a nice enough fellow, fond of dogs and theater. “Lord Hartwood. Yes, I should have guessed.”

“Are you pleased?” asked her mother again. “Do you mean to accept him?”

Mariah blinked at her. “Oh—no, Mama.”

For a moment there was surprised silence. Her parents exchanged a look, and then her mother faced her again. “Why not, dearest?”

“Mostly because I do not love him,” she said, finding it was easy to explain now that she’d got over the first rush of surprise and dismay. “And I don’t believe he really loves me. We would bore each other silly within a month. He’s a kind and amiable gentleman, but he is not for me.”

Again her parents looked at each other. “If that’s your final word on the matter,” Papa began, looking more nonplussed than angry or disappointed, “I shall refuse him.”

She smiled at him in gratitude. “Thank you, Papa. You truly are the best father.” She got up and went around his desk to kiss his cheek.

He caught her hand. “Are you certain, though? A man does not usually ask twice, Mariah. Perhaps you would care to consider it for a day before I speak to him.”

“He’s a very eligible match,” said Mama quietly. “A handsome man, kind and goodhearted. You would be well provided for. I hope you’re not being hasty, Mariah.”

She turned to her mother. “I’m not. I know my heart in this, Mama. Lord Hartwood is not the man for me. I don’t need to consider it, even though I know him to be a very eligible and decent gentleman, because I don’t love him and don’t believe I ever would.”

For a moment her mother was motionless, then she smiled and bowed her head in acceptance. “Then he’s not the man for you. I would never urge you to ignore your heart.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” She clasped her mother’s hand. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course, darling. We want you to be happy.” If her mother was disappointed, she hid it well. Mariah felt a burst of love for both her parents. They obviously thought they were bringing her happy news, and were taking her refusal in amazing good grace.

“I was planning to visit Joan,” she said. “May I go to her now?”

“I vow, you and Joan are practically attached to each other of late,” exclaimed her mother. “What do you two talk about all day?”

Mariah grinned. “We are making up for not seeing each other for five years.”

The countess threw up her hands and laughed. “I see. Well, Marion and I were the same, I suppose, when we were young. Go then, and give my niece my love.”

“Yes, Mama.” She slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Just before it latched, she heard her father say mildly, “Well, Hartwood’s a bit of an idiot, you know,” and her mother’s laughing response, “Oh, Charles!”

Mariah grinned to herself. All was well if they could laugh about it. Lord Hartwood! What a surprise. He’d only called on her... hmm... She couldn’t precisely recall, but it couldn’t have been more than twice. And she’d danced with him on a few occasions, but nothing out of the ordinary. Which was only fitting for Lord Hartwood, who was nothing if not ordinary—although still, as her mother had pointed out, a decent and eligible gentleman.

As for her hope that it might have been Harry... Mariah heaved a bittersweet sigh. As much as it would have made things considerably easier if he had indeed called on her father and asked his permission, she also acknowledged there was an excitement in Harry’s midnight visits that she would miss if he began calling on her in the ordinary fashion. Harry was the very antithesis of ordinary.

And it worried her, just a little. She tried to be as honest with herself, about herself, as she possibly could. She admitted she was thrilled by her secret suitor and his mysterious habits. She admitted his unpredictability piqued her interest and fanned her curiosity to almost unbearable levels. She admitted his attentions were all the more delicious for being paid in the dark of night, in her bedroom, on the razor’s edge of scandal and utter ruin. And so, she worried, what did that say about her character?

She had been raised as a very proper young lady. She knew the rules of the society in which she lived, and gentlemen climbing into ladies’ bedrooms were decidedly outside those boundaries. And yet, she loved it. Perhaps she wasn’t such a proper lady after all. Perhaps she had one of those rebellious natures that would land her in scandal after scandal throughout her life. She hoped she would be sensible enough not to humiliate her family that way, but if she was so thrilled by something this forbidden, maybe she wasn’t.

After all, what if all her delight with Harry were due to his unorthodox courtship? Would she still find him interesting if he did come to call at the proper time? Would she still be intrigued if she knew his name, his family, his station, and his prospects? Or would she find him as dull and ordinary as all her other suitors if he were to behave in a more... dull and ordinary way?

“Joan,” she hesitantly asked her cousin later, as they walked through the park, “do you think it wrong of me to be so...” She paused, searching for the right word. “So acquiescent to Harry’s attentions?”

Joan squinted at her from under her bonnet brim. “What do you mean?”

“Well...” Mariah lowered her voice. “It’s so exciting that he climbs the wall to see me. It’s even exciting that I don’t know what he looks like or what his full name is.”