The Rogue and I (23 page)

Edward blanched.

Wasn’t that what most men did to women, Garret thought. He hadn’t. Not with Harriet. To him, she’d always been glorious flesh and bone.

James’ face was a mask of pain. “John, I don’t know what we did—“

“You had everything,” John said quietly. “You had our father, you had recognition.”

Garret stilled. “Our father was an ass.”

At last John met Garret’s eyes. “Yes and so are you.”

Garret tensed.

“You let Harriet walk out of your life,” John said with a suspicious amount of anticipation. “Why?”

Garret arched a brow, determined that John wouldn’t tear him apart the way he’d done to Edward. “Because I thought she’d betrayed me.”

“Harriet? Really?” John nodded then snorted. “Over what?”

“She took money from our father.” The words sounded so bloody hollow now. When had that happened?

John laughed. He laughed and laughed until he held up his hands and coughed.

“Stop,” Garret demanded.

“You boys kill me, you really do,” John said. “I forget what precious, little flowers you all are.”

“You’re on dangerous ground,” Garret warned. “I thought she took money to leave me. It broke my heart.”

“You think it was easy for her?” John spat. “Even if she did take money? Who the hell cares? She was surviving. But then, you’ve never needed to beg to survive have you? No. You’ve never had to get down on your knees and beg for money to save your mother’s life. You’ve never been down on your knees in your whole life.” John’s lip curled with disgust. “You’re all too bloody noble for that. Well, your nobility destroyed a whole family. I think I’ve shown you all who you really are.”

John headed for the doors.

“John!” James shouted.

“Let him go,” Garret said softly as he watched his half-brother depart.

“He can’t get away with this,” James roared.

“He’s right,” Garret replied.

“What?” James demanded.

Garret felt his throat close tight and tears— tears— stung his eyes. “
He’s right.
”

It occurred to him in that moment that he was a coward. All this time he’d been protesting that he and Harriet had never and could never trust each other. Why not? Because he refused to try. Because he refused to let go of the past.

Because he was a damned coward.

Harriet was the brave one. She’d faced her family’s ruin. She’d confessed her love to him when they’d discovered the machinations of their families in Devon. Today, she’d shown herself to be braver still by standing next to her cousin as they proved their honor to the very family that had caused both of them so much unhappiness.

Harriet was the kind of woman a man should never, ever let go and he had. He’d let her go. For pride.

He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t stay with his brothers and pretend they were all so superior. He’d condemned Harriet all those years ago and he’d never even tried to understand her. He’d stood on his high ground and sneered on her poverty. What a fool he was, indeed. A disgusting fool who didn’t deserve to touch her toes let alone hold her hand.

But he needed to hold her hand. He needed to hold her hand for the rest of his life or his whole existence was going to be very empty. And it had taken a brother he’d refused to accept time and time again to make him see it.

Now, how in the hell did he show Harriet that he’d finally realized it?

Chapter 24

Harriet charged down Rotten Row, her gloved hands swinging and her long, muslin skirts dancing over the path. The Earl of Carlyle was beside her. It would have been nice to claim that the reason why she was charging was because of his remarkably long legs. The claim would have been false.

She was in a foul humor. Positively foul. The bans had been read three times.
Three!

Yesterday had been the last time. . . And it had been only two day after the whole affair in Garret’s townhome.

She’d felt like torching London ever since. Some small, minuscule at this point, part of her had hoped that Garret would get down on one knee and beg for her hand.

In fact, she’d thought, in her daydreams in any case, that the whole evening would end in weddings. Emmaline would somehow reconcile with Edward who, though moronic, was still the young man who’d fallen for her cousin. Then she’d thought perhaps she and Garret would be wed, as Carlyle kept swearing would occur. All the wrongs would be righted in one evening. That’s what her secret hopes had quietly whispered.

“My dear girl, are you quite well?”

She arched a brow up at him, daring him to utter a single word. He snapped his beautiful mouth shut.

His whole beautiful presence had become a constant reminder that Garret and she were never ever going to be married and that she was, it seemed, going to end up either married to Carlyle or in the gossips
again
for having broken it off with him.

Really the whole affair had turned into a bloody nightmare.

If anyone had thought proving Emmaline’s innocence to Edward would right things, said person must be deeply disappointed. . . Well, who wouldn’t be disappointed that things were still essentially deeply unpleasant?

Worse, the Duke of Huntsdown had posted a letter on the front page of The Times citing his mistake regarding Emmaline.
The Times.

There had been a few very harrowing hours in which they were all deeply afraid Lord Conrade would come declaring Meredith to be the one who had been under him. . . And then Meredith’s reputation would be slaughtered as well.

A letter was delivered that afternoon stating that Conrade had been made the governor of an exceptionally small, mosquito-filled island somewhere in the lands that Captain Cook had only recently discovered. In short, he might never return to London and he certainly wasn’t going to breathe a word, on pain of death.

Emmaline was refusing to see Edward who had been at the house every hour upon the hour.

Last night, she’d gone to a private party with Mrs. Barton.

At this point Emmaline had far surpassed Harriet in the scandal department.

Nothing was as one expected it to be.

“Excuse me!”

Harriet frowned. Who was shouting?

“
Exxxxxxcuse meeeeeee!!!”

She stopped mid-stride, a dangerous thing to do given it was one of the most popular hours for strolling in the park.

Carlyle whisked her to the grass beside the path.

Several people were stopping to stare though.

She knew that voice. A shiver of some emotion she dared not name went through her.

“
Look over here!
”

She searched the people about her and then her glance slid to the Serpentine.

There, on the silvery ripples of the artificial pond, stood Garret. . . In a dinghy.

He was waving his arms wildly.

Their eyes met over the long distance and, without any seeming impetus of her brain, she began to walk towards him. She couldn’t stop herself.

“Help!” he shouted. “Help!”

The crowd around them was beginning to slow and gather into an audience.

It was most annoying because suddenly several sets of shoulders were marring her view of Garret and the boat.

She began to liberally use her elbows to force a path.

Carlyle shouted abruptly, “Get out of the lady’s way!”

That did it. Instantly, the members of the ton parted like a veritable Red Sea.

She walked to the bank and bit down on her lip. The boat was exceedingly near the edge of the turf. In fact, if she reached out, she could almost grab him.

She daren’t speak. Tears were stinging her eyes at the sight of him, scandalously clothed in trousers, boots, and his shirt sleeves. If she spoke, she would cry.

He balanced carefully as she edged her slippers up to the water.

He lowered his arms and said loudly, “I’m looking for the Lady of Shalot.”

Harriet blinked then a laugh of sheer amazement threatened to bubble up from her. She forced it back. What the devil was he about? Without fail, images of their first meeting rioted through her head. God how she had loved him at once. Still, she couldn’t allow those memories to dictate her behavior now. Could she? No! Of course not.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t know such a person, my lord.”

“The name’s Lancelot.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She licked her lips then corrected him, “No, it’s Lord Garret.”

“Lancelot,” he retorted. “Have you seen the Lady of Shalot about?”

She hesitated. She should just say no. She’d never seen her and never would. Instead she said, “I’m not certain.”

His eyes softened. “I need to find her, you see.”

Harriet folded her hands to stop them from shaking. “Why is that?”

“Because I belong to her and I seem to be lost. Can you help me find her?”

“I— don’t think I can.” She swallowed. Her legs started to shake to match her hands. Her whole body was trembling! This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be doing something like this. “I have utterly forgotten her.”

“Then let me help you remember,” he said softly. “She was a great dreamer.”

“She was, my lord—“

“Lancelot,” he cut in.

She couldn’t say that. Not now. Not yet. Could she? “Her dreams alas, were broken.”

“Let us mend them,” he replied gently. “Don’t you recall?”

“Recall what?”

“You and I,” his gaze wandered over her face, “we can never end badly.”

“Oh Garret,” she sighed. “We
did
end badly.”

“Harriet, Harry, my love, we will never end,” he began. “Don’t you see? We were brought together that day on the water and we have been coming back together ever since. You are the love of my life and I will never be content in this life without you. How can I live without my happiness anymore, my Lady of Shalot, my Harry.”

“You said we could never trust each other,” she managed to point out. How could she stay strong against his words, against his passion, and against the truth in his eyes?

He smiled. “Who cares.”

She couldn’t have heard correctly. “Pardon? You said—”

“I only said that because I was afraid of being hurt again.” He drew in a long breath. “Day by day we shall trust again. But more than anything, even if we hurt each other again, this I know to be true, we are meant to be together for all time. More than Camelot. More than any story. You and I
are
love, Harriet. No one should come between us anymore. Not me. Not you.”

Tears began to stream down her face.

“I have been a fool,” he declared, getting down to one knee very slowly, rocking the boat the whole while. At last the little vessel calmed its bobbing and he continued, “Your Lancelot let you down again and again. His armor tarnished. But over the years, with the pain, my love has grown deeper. I need you more now than I did then. Marry me today, tomorrow, every day and let us dream together. Forever.”

A round of applause went up from everyone around them.

Harriet started to laugh. Garret certainly had decided to expose his heart to the world. Which she immediately realized was the point. He wanted everyone to see and know how he felt about her. And he wanted to do it on his knees.

Carlyle suddenly was at her shoulder and he whispered in her ear. “He’ll keep groveling if you want him to. But don’t you think you, too, have waited long enough to be happy?”

“Get away from her, you traitor!” Garret snapped, his voice a most unbecoming trumpet of a sound.

Harriet’s laugh bubbled out of her. “Glorious traitor and matchmaker,” she exclaimed and she threw herself forward and into the shallow water.

Exclamations of amazement went up as she half swam, half tripped her way the few feet to Garret’s dinghy. He yanked her out of the water and up into his arms. He gazed down at her in wonder. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes! A thousand times yes, Garret.”

“Promise me one thing,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to hover just over hers.

“What is that?”

“Never stop getting into scrapes. Because without your adventurous spirit, my life is a very sad one indeed.”

She grinned up at him. “Never,” she promised. “As long as you promise to get into them with me.”

“And we’ll save each other?” he asked.

“Every time,” she murmured just before he brought his lips down to hers, sealing their love with a kiss.

Epilogue

Six Months Later

The wedding had been a small one. Carlyle had been the best man. Emmaline had not been in attendance. As far as they knew she’d taken Paris by storm.

Edward had declared that he would win her back and had followed her across the Channel. They’d promptly heard that he’d spent one week in Paris then departed for China.

Apparently, Emmaline was having none of him.

Harriet felt sorry for the poor boy. She really did, but Emmaline had come into her own and she needed a man now. If Edward was ever to win her, he had some very extensive growing up to do.

James had shut himself up after the wedding at his estate, eschewing society and even the House of Lords. He’d become deeply distrusting of himself and his judgement since the whole debacle with Emmaline. Harriet prayed daily that he’d see he wasn’t such a horrible fellow.

John? Well, John hadn’t been heard from since that night at Garret’s townhouse which, in some ways, was too bad because the man had proven to have strange depths and Harriet did like to study complex people.

Garret gave her hand a tug as they walked beneath the weeping willows along the edge of the property they had bought just before the wedding. “What are you thinking?”

She squeezed his hand. “That a good many people are unhappy and I feel very sorry for them.”

He paused and stroked a curl back from her cheek. “We’re very lucky.”

“Yes, we are.” They had each other. They’d battled through so many awful things and now they had a beautiful home and life of their own.

“But none of them are at the end of their story, so happily ever after may yet await them,” Garret said brightly.

Harriet eyed her husband who continued to amaze her in the most delightful ways. “You’re very optimistic.”