A Vixen for the Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel (The Hale Sisters Book 2)
A Vixen for the Duke: Chapter 22

Harriet sat in the living room, smiling ear-to-ear. “Are you serious?” she asked. She knew the answer, of course.

Daphne had apologised because of her words, but Bridget didn’t have to know that.

“Do not act surprised.” Her aunt grinned. “I know what you did. Oliver said that Lady Daphne told him everything.”

Harriet offered a tight-lipped smile. “I think we ought to be applauding Lady Daphne for coming to such a mature conclusion. I only aided her on her journey.”

Bridget smiled, flattening her pearl necklace. Her eyes looked over her niece. Her gaze was warm and affectionate, something that wasn’t always coming from her. For much of Harriet’s time in the country, Bridget had offered nothing but tough love.

“She is not the only one who has matured. You have too, Rabbit.”

Harriet wrinkled her nose, but she almost immediately realised that such a look was the exact reason she had received the moniker.

“Ever since Lord Murrey and I revealed our plans to marry, you were staunchly against the arrangement.”

Harriet frowned, readjusting her position on the couch. “My sincerest apologies,” she said. “I just… I was merely being selfish.”

Bridget smiled. “Do not think for a moment that I do not understand. Being a widow wasn’t always so easy,” she began. “You were too young to remember the late Viscount, but he was a gruff man. He and I could not have been more different at that time. I was soft-spoken and obedient, and he was gruff and demanding. He and I did not have a good relationship, and yet when he passed away, I felt nothing but loneliness.”

Harriet’s heart dropped. She had never asked much about her uncle. In fact, she had never bothered picturing him. She couldn’t imagine her aunt as being anyone but the confident and self-assured woman that she was today.

“I didn’t know.”

“Because I rarely speak of him. I thought I missed him back then. I resented all my siblings. They still had their partners, and I had no one, not even a child by the time he passed away. But I realised I didn’t miss him. I missed his demands.” Bridget chuckled, widening her eyes as if to mock a much younger version of yourself. “I, like you, was afraid of not being anyone, because for so long, I wasn’t expected to be anyone. One day, I woke up, rolled out of bed, went to town and met Leonard.”

“Leo—”

“A rabbit, of course. Poor Edward’s father,” Bridget clarified. “And I took him home. I could have hit myself for being so careless. Me? A rabbit? Oh goodness me, I wasn’t a rabbit person!”

As Bridget reflected on her past, she laughed as if it was just a joke, but Harriet imagined how difficult it must have felt at the moment. She knew what it felt like to be lost. She had spent most of her life allowing everyone around her to tell her who she was and what she wanted.

“But you see, Rabbit,” Bridget continued. “I was a rabbit person. Still am! I am sitting here with you, after all. I am a lot of things. I love my animals and my cross stitch. I love to watch the fireflies from my window as I fall asleep. I love lemon tarts, and, quite recently, I have found that I particularly love earls with infectious laughs. And to think that rotten viscount tried to reduce me to a wife. Now I am about to be all of that and more!”

Harriet stood up and leapt across the space between the couches. She wrapped her arms around her aunt’s neck and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Bridget hummed. “Oh, dear, you know how I feel about family sentiment.”

Harriet kissed her aunt again and fell onto the seat beside her. With a smile, she took Bridget’s hands in hers. “Of course, but I love it. That is who I am. I am sentimental, and I am a dreamer, and sometimes, my head is in the clouds. But out here in the country, I have learned that I love hard work, billiards, children, and even those stupid, dirty, stinky chickens. But most of all, I have learned that I love dukes who cannot win games of Spillikins to save their lives.”

Bridget’s eyes widened. “Lord Frogington, is it?”

“Oh, if today before dinner he falls and rearranges his whole face, my opinions will not change,” Harriet said. “Although, I sincerely hope that does not happen. I rather like his face.”

“Yes,” Bridget cooed. “We all do.”

Harriet sighed. She looked across the room out the window. Morgan, Lord Murrey and Daphne would be arriving at any moment. It had been only a day since she and Morgan had shared such an incredible moment together. “He confessed that he loves me,” she said, her voice quiet.

“Has he, now?” Bridget asked. “I figured it was only a matter of time until one of you caved.”

Harriet frowned. “You have disapproved from the beginning!”

“No, no.” Bridget shook her head. “We simply cannot love others properly until we love ourselves. I wanted you to realise your own worth before someone else did it for you, dear.” She smiled. “I think it was very clear from the beginning that His Grace was taken by you. He and I have spent a lot of time together. I had an inkling before you even arrived that you would be a love match. But I am not one to force anything.”

Harriet clamped a hand over her mouth in surprise. “Aunt Bridget!”

Her aunt shrugged. “Now, we must replace someone for our Lucy, hmm?” She snickered. “We can get you all squared away, once and for all.”

“If she can ever change her opinions on men.” Harriet rolled her eyes.

“Well, she is not wrong, dear. Men are stupid, but they can be rather charming, eh?”

Harriet stifled a giggle, jumping slightly at a knock on the door.

“Oh, they’re here!” Bridget rose off the couch. She shouted up the staircase. “Miss Lucy? Come downstairs, will you? Our guests have arrived!”

Morgan smiled as the door opened. Beside Lady Moore, Harriet stood, her cheeks and nose rosy as always. He had been replaying their time at the cabin over and over again in his head. What they had shared was special. It had been more powerful than anything in his life. It felt so strange that after so long, he finally had a reason to imagine the rest of his life. He wanted to ask Harriet to marry him tonight.

Daphne stayed close to her father as they entered Lady Moore’s house. Oliver gallantly kissed the back of Bridget’s hand. When they parted, it seemed like everyone was holding their breaths. While it seemed that things had come together, there was still no telling how Daphne would actually react to her father’s romance.

“Hello, dear, isn’t that a beautiful dress,” Bridget said to Daphne.

Daphne reached out and gave her a hug. Although it was short-lived and the little girl skipped off to the dining room almost immediately, the moment sent a ripple of simultaneous laughter and relief through the group. Oliver clasped his hands together and shook them as if to celebrate a small victory.

“When is the wedding, then?” Lucy asked, her voice sounding neither excited nor apathetic.

“Next month.” Oliver beamed. “I trust you will all be there?”

“I wouldn’t dare miss it!” Harriet gushed, raising her arms in the air.

Everyone made their way to the dining room, but Harriet hung back, falling into step beside Morgan.

“You look beautiful this evening,” he said. “As always.”

“As do you, Your Grace.”

“Beautiful?” he asked incredulously. “My, in all my years I have never been called that. Not even once.”

“Handsome,” she corrected herself. “Although your eyes? Maybe.”

They entered the dining room, and Morgan pulled out a chair for her. After she was seated, he took his seat beside her as he had done during every meal since they’d met. It was funny how instinctively the family knew that, when choosing their seats, Harriet and Morgan would always sit beside each other.

Morgan had wondered how many of them had sensed something growing between him and Harriet. Earlier that very day, even Daphne had teased him about it, although he wasn’t sure she’d seriously thought it would happen. She had suggested a few times that he marry Harriet, but it was probably just because she liked her.

“How are you doing today, Lady Daphne?” Harriet asked.

“Happy,” Daphne replied assuredly. “I wanted to…” She paused, looking down at the tabletop. Morgan ruffled her hair reassuringly. “I want to apologise. I behaved badly at breakfast last week, and I have regretted it.”

“It is okay,” Lucy said. “I have half a mind to toss my brioche every day. It just doesn’t taste right.”

“Lucy!” Harriet whisper-shouted. Lucy shrugged in response.

“You are forgiven, sweetheart. We merely want to make sure you are comfortable,” Oliver said. “Are you now?”

Daphne paused, glancing between her father and Lady Moore. The two were seated next to each other, as they always had, but it was one of the first times Daphne had regarded the two as a couple. She nodded. “Yes.”

Morgan patted her back, and Oliver smiled widely. “Wonderful!”

The family tucked into their dinner. They were talking, laughing and enjoying one another’s company. Daphne seemed to make a real effort to talk to Lady Moore. Once dinner was over, the group agreed to move to the living room.

“Miss Lucy!” Bridget intoned. “Won’t you play the pianoforte? A little music will liven this night right up!”

Begrudgingly, Lucy agreed, making her way to the living room and shuffling through the sheet music.

As Harriet stood up to join everyone, Morgan grazed the small of her back with his hand. She turned to look at him as the rest of the group left the room. Lucy slammed the keys of the pianoforte. It was just enough to drown out their conversation. Besides, everyone was too engaged with each other to realise that they had been left behind in the privacy of the dining room.

“What is it, Morgan?”

Harriet smiled. She was so beautiful. Her hair was as curly and wild as it usually was, half of it pinned up, the other half delicately draped over her shoulders. She wore a light purple dress that made her eyes stand out. A thin, emerald necklace hung from her neck and gathered in her décolletage.

“Can I just have a moment?” Morgan asked.

He took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure how to word his proposal. He’d practised a hundred times in front of the mirror.

Harriet Hale, I have known you for only four short months, but I have decided I cannot live without you. Will you marry me?

I love you. Will you marry me, Harriet Hale?

Will you best me at billiards for the rest of my life?

I mean to say, will you marry me?

Marry me.

He had said it so many times that at this point, the wording seemed so important, and yet he couldn’t decide on a single one.

“Yes?” Harriet prompted.

“I—” He swallowed hard. Maybe if he just reminded her about his confession, the words would come easy. He exhaled, gathering himself. “In light of yesterday, I wish to marry you.”

In light of yesterday?

Harriet stepped back. Her shoulders dropped ever so slightly. If Morgan asked to marry her, she had wanted him to do so out of the love he felt for her, not out of obligation after their tryst.

She sighed, shaking her head. Her eyes burned. “My prospects were ruined long before you came along. You bear no obligation towards me,” she said. “I don’t want you to marry me because you feel that you have to.”

Morgan’s eyes widened, and Harriet spun around on her heels to walk away. He grabbed her wrist to stop her from leaving. “Wait,” he said. “You have misunderstood me.”

Harriet looked back, her heart stilling in her chest.

“I am clumsy with my words,” he said. “I meant in light of my confession. I love you. It is not duty. I promise you, I could not be more excited to ask you.”

Harriet gasped lightly. She pressed a hand to her lips. After all this time, after such an incredible journey, the Duke of Stanton wished to marry her. It seemed like a dream.

It seemed like a fairytale.

“Allow me to ask you correctly,” he said. “Harriet Hale, will you be my wife?”

Harriet squealed and jumped forward, tackling him in a hug. “Yes!” Before he could respond, she paused, her eyes widening. “When is your birthday?”

“November sixteenth,” he replied. “Why?”

“We must marry before then,” she said. “If you want to make good on that ten-year plan of yours, that is.”

Morgan grinned.

Together, they joined the group in the living room. They would have to wait a few days before they made their announcement. Daphne had had more than enough excitement for one week.