Page 101 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
And it was so much more than that, but she still couldn’t talk about that…about how she’d somehow, despite all her warnings to herself, fallen in love with the Duke of Crestmont. She was so ashamed of herself in so many ways. So sad for Lilly.
So heartbroken and hurt and devastated by that look of betrayal on Matthew’s face.
Lilly’s heartbreak was enough for all of them, though. They didn’t need to be burdened with Jo’s as well. Clinging to her friend, Jo buried her face in the counterpane and wept with renewed tears.
This time, Lilly wept with her.
Chapter Thirty-One
Early the next afternoon, Jo stood at the Cherringtons’ threshold. Lilly hadn’t been able to bring herself to come—not that Jo would have asked her. Bess had offered, but this was something Jo needed to do on her own.
Now, she regretted that decision.
She didn’t want to do this. She’d far rather be in bed right now, curled up in a ball, feeling sorry for herself, and drinking Mrs. Ferguson’s cheer-me-up tea. Jo had drunk two cups of it last night, and shehadfelt better. Unfortunately, however, she’d felt like death when she’d finally awakened today at noon. Though she didn’t know if she could attribute that to the rum in the tea, the oversleeping, or her ragged tangle of a heart.
She dragged up her hand and gripped the door knocker, took a deep breath, and knocked.
Moments later, the butler was leading her to the upstairs drawing room, and Jo wondered who she’d be facing today. When she finally stepped inside, one person rose to greet her. Harriet was alone.
Thank God. It was bad enough to have to deliver this news to Harriet, but having to face the entire Cherrington clan just might kill her.
Harriet greeted her, and they went through the pleasantries of conversation per the dictates of society. But Jo could see the crease between Harriet’s brows. She’d expected Matthew’s proposal yesterday, but he hadn’t come. And now, Jo was here to tell her why.
They sat on the sofa, and Harriet ordered some tea to be brought up. As soon as the maid closed the door, Harriet turned to Jo. “You have something to tell me, don’t you?”
“I do.” She reached for Harriet’s hand and held it in her own. “I’m so sorry to tell you this, Harriet, but the Duke of Crestmont has decided he won’t be pursuing his suit any longer.”
Harriet released a longwhooshof a breath. “Oh.”
Jo squeezed Harriet’s hand. “I’m so very sorry. I know you and your family anticipated that he’d propose soon—yesterday. But he decided…abruptly…that he wasn’t going to. Furthermore, he said he’s leaving London, so don’t worry that he’s set another young lady in his sights.” She hesitated. “In fact, I doubt he’ll marry anyone anytime soon.”
She’d also been responsible for that. His renewed suspicion regarding love. Her chest constricted as she thought of this additional unintended side effect. She’d gone into this determined to make him believe in love again. And perhaps she’d succeeded, for a moment. But then he’d learned of her deception and had instantly erected newer, stronger walls around his heart.
It was bad enough to lose him. But knowing that he would never allow himself love, that he’d never be truly happy having a partner with whom he could share his life—that broke her.
She blinked against the film in her eyes. Harriet wasn’t crying, and Jo would not, could not, weep in front of her.
Harriet gently pulled her hand away from Jo’s. “It is all right, Miss Porter. Truly.”
Jo’s breath caught. “It…is?”
Harriet nodded. “Yes. Perhaps…perhaps it is a blessing.”
“How?”
“Because, while I would have accepted the duke’s proposal for my family’s sake, I don’t love him. I never did.” Harriet’s expression crumpled, and she looked down at her hands twisting in her lap. “I simply felt obligated to marry him, you see. And I wouldn’t have regretted that decision—I promised myself I would never regret it, for he does seem like an honorable man.” She hesitated, glanced around as if to ensure no one was listening to them, and leaned toward Jo. “You see, I have…” She swallowed hard and drew so close, her lips nearly brushed Jo’s hair, and whispered, “I seem to have fallen in love with someone else.”
“Oh,” Jo breathed. A tiny spot of happiness for the other woman sparked in her chest. “That’s…”
“I felt terrible about it, though, and disloyal to the duke, so I was trying to not allow myself to love him, but now that I can…” A bright smile bloomed on Harriet’s face, making her eyes sparkle with joy. She looked prettier at this moment than Jo had ever seen her.
“May I ask the identity of the lucky gentleman?” As thrilled for Harriet as Jo was, she still couldn’t summon a smile, as much as she tried.
“Mr. Gifford.”
“Ah.” Jo turned to the still-fresh, bright red bouquet on the table. Mr. Gifford, who Harriet had met at Lady Campbell’s ball and who had sent that monstrous display of roses when he’d learned that Harriet had been ill. “You only met the one time? At Lady Campbell’s ball?” She knew many young women could consider themselves in love after a first meeting, but honestly, Harriet didn’t seem to be that type of girl.
After a brief hesitation, Harriet said, “No, not exactly. He called upon me twice after the ball, and then we saw each other again at Vauxhall Gardens.”
