Chapter Eighteen
Harriet made it homeand to her bedroom before her tears took over. The hurt and surprise on Joseph’s face was something she’d never forget. He seemed to understand that she was saying goodbye to what had been building between them.
How silly to be so upset when they had only shared a few kisses.
But a voice inside her head suggested that was a lie. So did her heart. She had thought he might be the one. The man with whom she could discover her own happily ever after. The thought had her sinking onto her bed as she cried.
Coming upon him at Phoebe’s had been so unexpected. While she hadn’t planned on telling him that she couldn’t see him again, the moment had seemed fortuitous. Or was it ill-fated?
No. She’d needed to make it clear he couldn’t call on her again. She couldn’t imagine him coming to the house and her finding the strength to refuse him.
This had been for the best. But she wished she’d had time to prepare. Perhaps that would have lessened the pain. Losing the little hope she’d held for the future she’d secretly dreamed of made her entire body ache. Especially her heart.
At last, the tears slowed, and a resigned numbness took hold. She rose to wash her face, hoping she’d worked through the worst of her upset before anyone saw it even if the despair gripping her suggested otherwise.
A knock on the door had her drawing a breath. She glanced in the dressing table mirror, hoping it wasn’t too obvious she’d been crying.
“Enter.”
Her mother opened her door, her face pale and her expression grim. “Thank goodness you’re home.”
“What is it?” Alarm swept through her.
“Reverend Henderson is calling.”
Her stomach clenched, and she pressed a hand on it. “Whatever for?”
“He asked to see us both.” Her mother clasped her hands tightly before her, a sign of how anxious she was. “I considered refusing, but perhaps it would be best if we saw him now rather than worrying if he might return later.”
“Mother, what if he suspects something?” Harriet asked, fear chilling her to the bone.
“Suspects what?” She shook her head. “He couldn’t possibly know anything.”
Visiting with Reverend Henderson was the last thing Harriet wanted to do. But neither did she want the threat of him calling again hanging over her head.
As if sensing her hesitation, her mother said, “If you don’t feel up to it, I will speak with him alone and tell him you’re not home.”
“No.” Harriet drew a long, slow breath. “I won’t allow you to deal with this alone.” She touched her chest, reminding herself of everything her stepfather had done. If anyone was at fault, it was him.
Yet that reassurance had never freed her from guilt.
“Very well.” Her mother lifted her chin, her relief evident. “We will see what he has to say. Remember, we didn’t do anything wrong.”
Harriet nodded, appreciating her words. The problem was thatwehadn’t.Shehad. She’d been the one who’d pushed Lord Chapman.
“Admit nothing,” her mother whispered before taking her hand in hers. “No matter what he says. We will not tell him anything.”
Again, Harriet nodded, though fear sat like a lead ball in the pit of her stomach.
They walked together to the drawing room where Reverend Henderson stood looking out the window, hands clasped behind his back.
“Good afternoon, Reverend Henderson,” her mother said, having released Harriet’s hand. Her manner was cool and confident as they entered the room. She looked every inch a lady. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit?”