“I wish the situation was different,” she whispered, her blue eyes opening to hold on him once more. “That I was different. But there’s more to my past than just these scars.”
She hesitated as if uncertain how to tell him.
“It doesn’t matter,” he reassured her, still kneeling beside her. “Nothing you can say will change how I feel about you. If it takes the rest of our lives, I will gladly spend each day proving my regard for you. Please give me—give us—a chance.”
She pulled her hand from his, and a cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach. “It took weeks to recover, of course. I refused to speak to him after that. Even after he apologized.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t believe him. Especially when he still blamed me for angering him. The worst thing was that his comments made me question myself. After all, no one saw it. Mother was out of the room when he did it.”
Joseph hated how much the memory pained her but waited as she clearly had more to say.
“Nearly three weeks later, after the burn had started to heal, I was returning to my bedroom from my mother’s sitting room one evening. He was coming up the stairs after having been at his club. He’d been drinking. I could smell it.” She shuddered, and it was all Joseph could do not to take her into his arms and offer comfort.
But he held back, certain she wouldn’t welcome his touch.
“He insisted I was pretending to be injured worse than I was. He tried to tear off the bandages to prove it.” She looked at him then, a mixture of anger and fear in her face. “It hurt terribly. I had to get away from him. So I shoved him.”
She pressed her fingers to her temple as if the memories hurt. “It happened so quickly. One moment he was pulling at the bandages, and the next he was falling backward down the stairs. He struck his head, and when he reached the landing, he didn’t move. He never moved again.”
“Harriet.” To think she’d lived with that all this time. As if what she’d already endured wasn’t painful enough.
“I know,” she said with a sob, pressing both hands over her face. “I’m a murderer.” The keening sound coming from her made it impossible for Joseph not to reach for her.
“No. You were defending yourself.” He wrapped her in his arms, feeling her stiffen at his touch. He held tight anyway. “Everyone has a right to defend themselves.”
“Reverend Hen—I mean, Mr. Henderson—suspects something. He told Mother and me that he intends to start asking questions about what happened to my stepfather unless we give him a sizable donation.”
“Henderson is in no position to accuse anyone of anything. He must’ve decided to put pressure on you since he’s lost so many donations of late.” Joseph worried he was to blame for Henderson’s threats to Harriet.
She sniffed and drew back to look at him, her tears undoing him. “He isn’t the problem. I am. Mother keeps insisting that it was an accident. That my stepfather took a misstep. That I didn’t kill him.”
“Harriet, you had every right to push him away. He’d already harmed you once. You had reason to believe he would do so again.”
Despair clutched her, visible in her hunched shoulders, as if she hadn’t heard him. “You must be disgusted by my actions. If I had the chance to relive those moments—”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He stared into her eyes, willing her to understand. “It wasnotyour fault. You are not to blame. If I would’ve been in your place, I would’ve done the same thing. What other choice did you have?”
She blinked as if sorting through possible options.
“None. You took the only action you could. Of that, I have no doubt.”
“Nor do I, Harriet.”
Joseph looked up to see Lady Chapman walking slowly forward with a stricken look on her face.
“I’m sorry I didn’t reassure you more often. My suggestion that we pretend nothing happened didn’t help you. I didn’t realize that until now. I’m so sorry. You did the right thing. The only thing you could. I hope you can forgive me.” She sent a questioning look at Joseph, but he wasn’t about to release Harriet. Not yet.
“There’s nothing to forgive, Mother.” Harriet heaved a sigh. It seemed clear that she was still considering whether she believed what they’d said, and if she could accept his death wasn’t her fault. “I still feel to blame...”
“No,” Joseph said again. “No one has the right to harm you. No one.” He smiled as he touched her cheek. “From this day forward, I will remind you every day that you took the proper action if you will allow me.”
Her half-smile lit hope deep inside him.
Lady Chapman cleared her throat. “Harriet, the things you’ve told me about Viscount Garland remind me of your father.” She smiled at Joseph. “He was a kind and honorable man as well.”
Harriet drew back to look at Joseph. “He would’ve liked you, Joseph.”
“I think I would’ve liked him as well.” Though Lady Chapman continued to watch them, he had to tell her again how he felt. “Please tell me you’ll give me the chance to show you how much I care about you.”