Harriet closed her eyes briefly. “I’m not certain.” Though she hadn’t intended to tell anyone other than the little she’d shared with Phoebe, she found the words spilling out. “Frances and I share atendrefor Viscount Garland.”
Tibby’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, dear.”
“Yes.” Harriet glanced at Joseph, her heart squeezing. “She didn’t tell me who it was until we were at the house party, and I didn’t intend to see him again afterward. At least, not so soon. I wish Phoebe had invited Frances rather than me.”
“I believe she invited you both, but Frances and her parents have not yet returned to London.”
“How unfortunate.”
“Is it?” Tibby asked with a raised brow. “I mean, where is it written that you should step aside for anyone? Nor should Frances step aside for you. Why not allow Viscount Garland to decide for whom he cares? You both deserve an equal chance, do you not?”
“Frances volunteered—”
“That doesn’t matter. I have no doubt that Phoebe would agree.” She looked toward their friend who was conversing with her guests. “I would be happy to ask if that would help.”
Doubt filled Harriet. “It seems disloyal.” In truth, Frances had been her excuse for not pursuing Joseph. It was easier for her to think of her friend than consider her past.
“For all you know, he might not be attracted to either of you.”
Harriet nearly shook her head. She couldn’t deny how he’d acted during their time alone together, let alone those kisses.
“What?” Tibby stepped even closer. “Something happened. You had a moment with him, didn’t you?” Excitement lit her brown eyes. “A kiss, perhaps?”
A smile curved Harriet’s lips before she could halt it. “Perhaps.”
“Oh, Harriet.” Tibby glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on Joseph. “I am here to tell you that you should follow any attraction you feel to see where it leads. Don’t turn it away. You must give whatever is between you a chance to grow.”
“You sound like Phoebe.” Harriet pressed a hand on her chest, wishing things were different. If only her past didn’t cast such a long, dark shadow. She hated to think her stepfather was still affecting her life to the extent he was after what she and her mother had already endured.
Curse him.
Yet she didn’t regret that he was gone, or that they had their freedom and the chance for happiness, something that wasn’t possible when he’d lived.
“I don’t know,” Harriet began, her eyes meeting Tibby’s. “In all honesty, I’m not certain marriage is possible for me.”
“Why?” Then a look of understanding came over Tibby’s face. “Is it because you don’t feel you can leave your mother alone if you marry?”
Sympathy swept through Harriet for she knew how difficult Tibby’s life had been with her own mother. Lady Dunford had seemed bent on being unhappy with life after the death of her husband.
Unfortunately, Tibby had borne the brunt of it. Out of desperation, she’d suggested a pretend betrothal to Captain Shaw, who had been a childhood friend, in an effort to loosen her mother’s grip.
But she’d also proposed the ruse to help Captain Shaw see her differently as part of theFor Better or Worseagenda.
“No, though that is a concern.” Harriet shook her head. This wasn’t the time or place to share the reason she hesitated. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to tell anyone.
Tibby touched her arm. “You have been so helpful to me over the past few months, a true friend. Know that I would be pleased to return the favor. You are deserving of happiness, too.”
“Thank you.” Harriet was touched by her words and support. What was the right way to proceed? “Frances does, as well,” Harriet felt compelled to add. The conversation made her realize she’d been using Frances’ feelings for Joseph as a shield so she didn’t have to risk exposing her past.
“Of course, she does. But the decision isn’t hers alone to make.”
Lord Bolton interrupted their conversation to offer glasses of sherry, and the others joined them, ending the discussion for now.
Harriet’s thoughts whirled as the guests mingled, and she found herself alone for a moment.
“I’m so pleased to see you, Harriet.” The deep timbre of Joseph’s voice nearly made her shiver with the longing it brought.
She turned to face him, pleased to have the glass of sherry to occupy her hands as it kept her from touching him. “I’m happy to see you, too. You’ve been well?”