What the Hart Wants - Fiona Davenport Page 0,72
known you for a matter of weeks, Fraser, whereas I’ve known you for years,” she continued. “Who is she? My family dates back centuries, as does yours. But the Harts are nothing! No lineage, no quality, and no manners. She’s nothing, Fraser—nothing!”
She was wrong.
Delilah Hart was everything.
“Miss MacKenzie,” he said, “do not speak so…”
“I’ll say what I like when I see the man I love being duped!” she cried. “Did she spread her legs? Is that it? It seems that friendship cannot secure your hand, whereas whoring will always prevail.”
He leapt to his feet. “That’s enough! You know nothing of her. She may not be able to trace her family back to the thirteenth century, but that’s of no detriment to her character. She’s bright, kind, and passionately devoted to helping others. As a woman, she knows the obstacles she faces in the world are that much higher, that much harder to climb, yet still she persists! Not for personal gain, but because it’s the right thing to do. Can you compare to that?”
She rose to her feet, trembling. The shock in her eyes tempered his fury.
“Forgive me, Jennifer,” he said. “I’ve no wish to cause you pain. You deserve a man who loves you. And I am not he. I cannot pretend otherwise, for it wouldn’t be fair.”
“Very well,” she said. “But you’ll regret not offering for me. There’s plenty of men hereabouts who’ll happily take me—and my fortune.”
“Then I wish them good fortune and happiness.”
“If only I could bestow equal good wishes on you,” she said, “but I find I cannot. Not when you’ve broken my heart.”
“Then, I ask your forgiveness,” he said.
She shook her head.
“What can I do?”
“Tell your man to send for my carriage,” she said. “Don’t bother to show me out. I know the way.”
After she left, he retired to his chamber. Ridding himself of Jennifer, at last, had only served to increase his burden, for now, he’d added regret at having broken her heart.
He didn’t love Jennifer, but neither did he wish to see her unhappy.
Ye Gods—since when had he grown into a milksop who cared for the feelings of others, even those who sought to take advantage of him?
He rolled onto his side, the bed creaking beneath his weight, and closed his eyes. But it could not dispel the memory of her—the feisty lass who had taught him compassion and unlocked his heart.
He hardened almost instantly. He could almost smell her and hear her little mewls of pleasure, which turned into cries of ecstasy as he’d thrust himself deeper into her warm, welcoming body.
Picturing the expression in her eyes and her lips parted of surprise, he fisted his manhood as if he was, once more, a lad of sixteen hiding beneath the bedsheets.
If the memory of Miss Hart was all he had, then he must be content with that.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lilah flicked through the volume of poems, which had arrived from Mr. Sandton that morning. “Now my dream is finally being realized,” she said. “I find it gives me little pleasure.”
Her nausea from her pregnancy had gone, and save for a slight thickening of her waistline, it was not yet visible. But she could not conquer her melancholy.
As he’d promised, Sir Thomas had proposed almost daily since her first rejection of him last month. Of Fraser, there was no news other than general gossip about the failure of his enterprises in London. She suspected Dexter knew something, but her brother remained tight-lipped, spending every working hour either at his bank or with his lawyer.
Clayton House had returned to the sorry state in which it had been the day Lilah had met Fraser. With one exception. The birds had gone. They’d flown away the night the house was ransacked and the aviary destroyed. The poor creatures stood little chance of survival in the wild.
More lives affected by her foolish ambitions.
Yet, still, she took tea in the afternoon with her friend, as if nothing had changed.
She tossed the volume aside and sighed.
Anne set her teacup down. “Are you quite well, Delilah, dear? You seem out of sorts.”
“Yes, I’m well,” Lilah said.
“Are you sure? You’ve not been yourself lately.”
She looked away, avoiding her friend’s perceptive gaze.
“I thought as much,” Anne said. “How long have you been in love?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped, then immediately regretted her outburst. “Forgive me, Anne.” She reached for the sugar and dropped four lumps into her tea, blinking back tears.
“Since when have you taken that much sugar in your tea?”
Lilah shook her