Page 52 of A Landscape of Love

“It’s not my place—” Hart began defensively.

“You’ve brought the woman into our home, Hart, we’re about to be embroiled in a God-awful scandal, and you intend to marry her. I think we’ve a right to know the complete story. All of it.”

Hart glared at his father, jaw set.

“I’ll ask Lady Fidelia, then,” Inigo said with a shrug, heading for the door.

“Wait! No,” Hart protested, and then gave a sigh. “Fine. I’ll tell you. I just don’t want her embarrassed. The thing is… when she had her come out, some… some bastard took advantage of her. The usual story, promises of love and a happy ever after. He hoped to force the duke into allowing the marriage, even though he must have known her father would never submit to blackmail.”

“Ah,” his father said, his expression one of pity. “There’s a child.”

Hart nodded. “Her father took it from her within minutes of the birth. It nearly destroyed her,” he said, shocked to hear the catch in his voice as he spoke.

“She looks strong enough now,” Inigo replied with a smile.

“I promised to help her, to find her son. It’s given her hope, something to live for. She’s grateful to me,” Hart replied with a shrug.

His father studied him with the intensity he usually reserved for scientific anomalies but said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he said. “Speak with your lady and make your plans, but if you want my advice, make sure you listen to her. Don’t assume you know best. Don’t bollocks it up.”

Rather surprised by this endorsement, for it was one, Hart smiled at his father. “Thank you, sir.”

“Hmph,” Inigo replied. “Don’t thank me. You will bollocks it up. It’s inevitable, but hopefully she’ll forgive you for long enough to get it right in the end.”

Hart frowned and opened his mouth to speak but his father just made a shooing gesture. “Go away and make your own mistakes. I made mine and I’m the better for it. I don’t see why I should save you from yours.”

“Suit yourself,” Hart replied, rather bewildered, but knowing he’d get no more out of his enigmatic sire if he didn’t wish to explain himself.

Hart left the room and found his mother coming down the stairs towards him.

“She’s quite all right,” his mother said with a smile. “She told me about Ambrose. The poor darling thought I’d wish to throw her out again. What a wretched time she’s had. You will make her happy, won’t you, my dear? She’s head over ears for you, I think, and I like her very much. I think she’s perfect for you.”

Hart snorted at that, unable to hold in the sceptical sound.

“What?”

“The poor girl is just grateful to me for saving her from marrying Malmsey and helping her find her son, and as for the making her happy, I’ll do my best, but she’s the Duke of Beresford’s daughter, Ma, and I was born in the workhouse.”

“What of it?” Minerva demanded. “Your father was also from the workhouse, and Lady Helena and Gabe have been happily married for years.”

“Yes, because she fell in love with him and went after him with determination. Gabe didn’t stand a chance. Neither did my father,” Hart said impatiently. “This is different. It’s a practical arrangement, not a love match. She has to marry me. She’s got no choice. Not now, after everything that’s happened.”

“Oh, Hartley,” she said, shaking her head. “Of course she has a choice.”

“Yes, the one she’s taking at the moment—refusing to marry me and courting disaster for her and her son,” Hart said, frustration rising inside him. “Honestly, what the devil does she think she’s going to do with no money and an illegitimate child on her hands? She’s never had to fend for herself a day in her life. If I don’t marry her, she’ll end up in desperate straits and that’s a fact.”

“I shouldn’t make that part of your marriage proposal unless you want things thrown at you,” his mother said coolly.

“Why not? It’s true!” he retorted.

Minerva gave him a hard look, and Hart glowered, folding his arms. “I’m no good at hearts and flowers, Ma. You know that.”

His mother sighed and laid a hand on his arm. She spoke quietly, her expression soft as she gazed up at him with such fondness in her eyes Hart couldn’t look at her. “I know you have a big heart, and that you care deeply about people. The moment you began writing to me about her, I knew you were done for. It was so obvious you cared for her, cared what happened to her, that you wanted to save her. You’re in love with her and no,” she said firmly as Hart opened his mouth, “there’s no point in denying it. Not to me. Don’t hide your feelings, Hart. I know that’s your instinct. It always has been. You’ve always struggled to admit you care about anyone, but you must. Show her the truth, Hart. Show her you want to marry her and you’re not acting out of pity. If not, she’ll always feel as if she’s ruined your life and that she’s a burden to you.”

“She’s not,” Hart said fiercely, shaking his head. “She never could be.”

“Then make sure she knows that,” Minerva said. “You know, you are more like your father than you realise, and I know it makes you feel vulnerable, putting your heart on the line like that, but if you do, you might discover that she feels the same way.”

Hart shook his head. “No, she—”