It only took Charles and Harriette a few hours to reach their next destination. Harriette was incredibly grateful to Madam Stewart for helping them get a carriage. She couldn’t have imagined, nor had the strength, to walk all this way. Before they had left, she had asked Charles several times over where they were headed next, but he wouldn’t tell her. He continued to tell her it was a surprise, and what she found endearing and rather romantic the night before, she found frustrating and unnecessary.

He brought them to yet another inn in the middle of some small village that she had not been to, and she was very aware of the fact that they were progressively moving farther and farther east. Being this far from home was making her incredibly uneasy, and she wondered if she should say something to Charles.

“Lady Harriette,” he said that evening over dinner. She noticed just how handsome he was in the light from the candle between them, the shadows accentuating his jawline and brow. He looked much more mature than he had earlier that morning, and she believed once more that perhaps this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Yes, my love?” she replied, and as the words passed through her lips, she found herself blushing furiously.

He smiled at her, and she felt her heart melting. “Are you all right? You seemed awfully sad in the carriage this morning.”

She smiled at him. “I am quite all right, but thank you for asking.”

“You are sure?”

She nodded. “I am. I suppose all of this is just so strange to me, so sudden. I think I am fighting myself about whether I am afraid or excited.”

He considered her for a few moments, looking directly into her eyes.

“Charles,” she said quietly, leaning closer to him across the table. “What made you want to ask me to run away with you?”

He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair, his warmth and openness seeming to disappear.

“Well, I…” he began. He ran his fingers through his hair and laughed, but it sounded duller than it normally did. “I suppose that I have thought about it for some time now.”

She continued to watch him. She found it quite charming when he was nervous, especially since he was always so confident and rambunctious. “Truly?”

He glanced briefly at her before looking down at the plate in front of himself. “Yes. And I knew I would have to ask you before you went to that big fancy ball in a few weeks.”

She sat back in her own chair a little. “Yes…the ball…”

“And I knew for sure that someone would ask you to marry them shortly after that, if not at the ball that very night!”

She stared at him. “What makes you think that anyone would want to marry me?”

“Oh come off it,” he said, crossing his arms. “You are stunning! How could a man resist you? And your family’s wealth is desirable as well.”

She saw his eyes grow wide and he snatched up his goblet full of wine and drained it in one long sip.

She could only stare at him. Had she heard him right? He thought…she was stunning? She had always thought herself very plain, and not nearly as handsome as her younger sister, who had beautiful golden hair.

“You…really think that about me?”

He seemed puzzled. “But, of course. Why on earth would any man think otherwise?”

“So, you wished to ensure that we would be together?” she asked, the romance of it all overcoming her once more. “You couldn’t stand the idea that someone else might have wished to marry me?”

“Yes,” he said, looking around. “I knew that your father would never allow it if I were to have asked him.”

“Oh, I do not know if that is true,” she replied, but as she considered it, she realized he was probably right. There was probably little chance that her father would have agreed to let her marry a man who had no social standing. But didn’t he know that it didn’t matter to her? Didn’t he know that it was her own life, and she should be able to marry whomever she chose? Besides, she knew that Charles was a hardworking young man who she had seen working with his father since he was a boy. She knew that he would do well by her and take care of her and any family they may have together.

Wouldn’t he?

“Oh, just think,” she said. “We could start a family and have a little house near my father’s estate so my governess could become the governess of our children. I’m sure my father will forgive us for this, certain that at least my mother will understand, and our children can be brought up in the proper way.”

He had become very pale, she noticed, as she finished her thought. “My dear, whatever is the matter?”

“N…nothing,” he replied. “I…need to get some fresh air.”

And without another word, he was up on his feet and walking toward the doors leading outside, leaving her there all alone in the tavern.

She simply stared at his empty seat. That had been awfully abrupt, and she wondered what she could have said to upset him. Hadn’t he thought of these very same things? Isn’t that a large part of wishing to marry someone?

She hesitated for a moment, but she realized very quickly that there was not a soul in the room that she knew, and it was not long before she, too, was outside beneath the quickly darkening sky.

Looking around, she pulled her traveling cloak more closely to herself, feeling the wind pick up, sweeping through the streets. She glanced up and down both sides of the street and felt a flicker of anxiety when she couldn’t immediately see Charles.

She walked down the road in the direction they had come, toward the long, cobblestone bridge that spanned the wide river she could hear from where she stood. She wasn’t sure why, but she assumed this was where he would end up being; perhaps his adventurous, spontaneous nature was not as unfamiliar as she had once believed.

She had been correct.

Charles leaned against the side of the bridge, gazing down into the river below, the wind sweeping the hair from his face. He looked so young standing in the fading sun, much more like a young boy than a man who was ready to become her husband.

The sight, she realized, made her very sad. She had found him in a very similar position when she had discovered that his mother had died. He looked vulnerable, exposed, and she wondered if she should approach him at all.

She remained where she was, beside the storefront before the bridge, and watched him. He continually bent down, grabbed what she assumed was a small stone, and pelted it over the side into the rushing water below.

Feeling a bit like a parent watching her child, Lady Harriette frowned. Is this what her life was to become? Would he act this way whenever they were to have some sort of disagreement? And did what they had in the tavern even count as a disagreement? She wasn’t sure, but it made her uneasy.

She straightened her shoulders and started off toward him once more, acknowledging to herself that if this was how they were to start off their life together, she wasn’t going to have it. He didn’t even hear her coming until she reached the bridge and her boots crunched on the gravel beneath her.

“Oh, it’s just you,” he said. He turned back to the river. “You startled me.”

“You startled me, Charles,” she replied, rather indignantly. It was incredible to her that she could have felt so romantic just a short time ago, and now she felt irritated and upset. “You just left me in that tavern all alone. What if something had happened to your wife-to-be?”

He winced when she said those words. “Please, don’t…don’t call yourself that.”

“What?” she questioned. “Your wife-to-be? Why on earth should I not call myself that? Would you prefer fiancée? Or betrothed?”

He remained silent, his gaze fixed ahead.

“What has happened to you? Why won’t you tell me anything about what we are doing?”

“What do you mean? I have told you what we are doing. We are going to get married!”

“Then why were you far more excited about it the night you asked me to run away with you than you are now?” She watched the side of his face, and his jaw tightened. “We were both so happy just the other night! How is it that all of that has disappeared already?”

Once again, he was quiet, his lips pursed together.

“Where are we going, Charles?” she said finally, feeling exasperated. She wondered, not for the first time, if she was indeed making the right decision.

Standing out in the cold evening air with no home to return to left her feeling suddenly frightened. She had no idea where they were, or where they planned to go. She suddenly missed her home, her family, Lord Henry, her own bed.

She felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Charles, I have a right to know where we are and what is happening to me.”

He sighed heavily. “Please don’t get upset. We are in the village of Huntington.”

“Why?” she asked before he could say anything else.

“It’s just a stop on our way to get married,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with her.

“Why didn’t we just get married in Fair Haven? Or in Greenwich, where we live?”

He kicked at some stones in the path in front of himself. His childish responses to her questions were causing her anger to flare even more.

“Would you look at me?” she asked, feeling more and more desperate by the second.

He slowly looked up into her face. She was surprised to see that he was as exasperated as she was.

“I guess there’s no point in hiding it anymore,” he began, and sighed heavily. “You would have discovered it at some point. There is no point trying to hide it from you forever.”

He looked up at her. “I never had the intention of marrying you,” he said rather flatly.

“Wh…what?” she breathed, feeling as if she had heard him incorrectly. Of course she heard him incorrectly…hadn’t she?

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” he said, turning to look over at the river once more. “I did intend to marry you. But it was for different reasons than what you think.”

She couldn’t even form words because she was so shocked. Harriette just stood there, on the cold, darkening bridge, staring at Charles in utter disbelief.

He looked at her, pleadingly, and began to pace back and forth. “You see, when my mother passed away, my father found it harder to work. I had to pick up a lot of the slack, which was fine, but I hated seeing him so discouraged all the time. I would watch you and your family, without a care in the world, not ever worrying about if you would be without a meal that week.”

She swallowed painfully, her fists clenched at her side.

“Then why did you never ask my father for help? Why didn’t your father?”

Charles shrugged his shoulders. “You would think that would be simple, wouldn’t you? But my father is a proud, proud man, and would never bring himself that low as to ask for help. Not from anyone.”

The bitterness in his voice was prominent.

“But one afternoon, after I had just come home from playing down by the creek with you and Lord Henry, my father mentioned something that has stuck with me until today. Do you know what that was?” he asked her.

She only glared at him.

“He said, ‘Son, all of our worries would end if you were to marry that Lady Harriette. You would be well taken care of, and she’s rather fond of you.’ And then he sighed, and shook his head. I’ll never forget the look on his face.”

Harriette just stared at him blankly. She could not believe what she was hearing. This had to be some sort of misunderstanding; she had to have missed something somewhere. There was no way that he simply wanted to marry her for…

“My money?” she asked, feeling her cheeks burning. “You are telling me that you asked me to run away with you so that you could have my money?”

“Well, it sounds quite a bit more devious when you say it like that, Harriette,” he replied, inclining his head to her.

“Did you ever care about me?” she asked, infuriated. “At all?”

He held up his hands, attempting to steady her. “Harriette, of course I did. I am not a man without feeling, of course.”

“But do you love me?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears. As she considered the question for herself, she wondered if she would be more disappointed about his lack of affection toward her, or the fact that he seemingly double-crossed her to marry her.

He stared into her face, and before he even uttered the words, she knew the truth.

“No,” he replied simply.

She turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. She felt betrayed, disgusted, and with no purpose.

“But that doesn’t mean that I couldn’t come to love you,” he said, taking a step toward her. “I am very fond of you, Harriette. We have been good friends for a long time, and I hoped that you would understand why I did this.”

“You have ruined me!” she shouted, turning back to him, her arms tight at her side, her hands clenched so tightly that her fingernails dug into her palms. “I am not even out in society yet, and you think it wise to betray me in such a way? Betray my family? After all that we have done for you; after all of the wonderful times we had together as children?”

She wasn’t crying because she was sad. She had surpassed that very quickly, and now all that was left was a seething rage.

“No,” she said, straightening the dress she wore, pulling herself together. “No, you have done nothing of the sort. The solution is easy. Yes. You just need to ensure my safe return home, and then all will go back to how it was before we left.”

“You must be joking,” he said, a hollow laugh playing at his lips.

“Of course I’m not joking!” she replied coolly. “We can make up some sorry excuse for why you took me away from home, and hope that my father does not skin you alive upon our return.”

Charles rolled his eyes and took a step toward her. He lowered his voice and spoke very fast.

“No one will take you now, don’t you see? They will assume that you are now—”

“What?” she said, rather hotly. “A harlot of some sort? You cannot be serious, Charles.”

“I am serious,” he replied. “Who would believe you?”

“Everyone who knows me would believe me!” She cried, feeling the anger rise in her throat. “Why would they ever assume that something like that had happened to me?”

“Would you be able to prove them otherwise?” he asked, crossing his arms across himself, leaning against the bridge’s wall.

She groaned out loud, looking at him, her vision narrowing. She felt a loud, painful thumping in her skull, and her knees felt as if they were no longer attached to her body.

“Perhaps I should tell my father that you kidnapped me,” she replied, and she was pleased to see the color leave his face rather rapidly. “And then you will have no choice but to spend the rest of your life in some cold, dark dungeon.”

“Now wait just a moment…” he said, holding up his hands in defense. “It was never my intention to tarnish your reputation.”

“Then what did you think would happen if you asked me to run away with you?”

“Well, it is just as much your fault as it is mine!” he cried in reply. “You agreed to run away with me, knowing full well all of the risks that it involved.”

“I thought you wanted to marry me because you loved me! Had I known otherwise, I would have refused outright and sent out the servants to have you thrown in the creek.”

He sighed. “We cannot go back. Not until we are married.”

“I am not marrying you,” she answered. “I am going to find a way home, whether you like it or not.”

“No one will believe you without my word to back it up,” he replied.

“No one will believe you at all,” she retorted. “You ruined that chance when you told me the truth.”

“Would you rather have married me had you not known the truth?”

She paused, glowering at him. “No,” she replied eventually, some of the anger dissipating. “No.”

“I do still want to marry you,” he said. “I think that you would be the most incredible wife. And we have always had so much fun together, haven’t we?” he said, his voice quieter and more gentle.

She looked up at him. She could see genuineness in his eyes. She could see that he did care for her.

“I don’t know…” she replied. “How can you still ask me to marry you after everything you just told me?”

“Because I am doing what any man would do for his family,” he said gently, looking into her eyes. “But more importantly, I do care for you.”

She sighed heavily. Would she be able to marry him now knowing now what she did?

“Think of it this way,” he said, looking at the ground beneath his feet. “If you continue the path with me, and we get married, your reputation will remain intact. They will consider you foolish, but your father would not have the heart to disown you. Nor your mother.”

She bit on the inside of her lip.

“On the other hand, if you return home, unmarried, you’ll have a very difficult time finding a husband due to the fact that you ran away with a boy before you were out in society.”

She glared at him. He had put her in a very, very compromising position.

“This situation would have been so much different had you asked me to marry me only because you loved me…” she whispered.

“It would have been the exact same, Harriette, because you agreed to it,” he answered. “If it matters at all, I am sorry to have caused you so much strife. When I had decided to ask you, I…” he sighed heavily, looking back out over the river, “I had never thought that it would end like this. My reasoning seemed sound, but now that we are here, in the moment I…”

He looked at her earnestly.

“I regret that I ever thought of it.”

He took her hand hesitantly and squeezed it. “If you do choose me, I will make it right. I promise. We will make our way to the chapel in Kingsfield tomorrow morning, and we can then make it home from there,” he said earnestly.

She took a step back from him. “I…I need some time to think,” she replied rather coldly, and before he could say anything, she turned and made her way back through the streets to the inn.

It had grown dark as they stood there on the bridge, and as she walked, she felt the first drops of rain begin to fall. The lamplights in the streets had been lit, and she wasted no time returning to the tavern and making her way to her room.

It was a simple space, with a small, comfortable bed, a window overlooking the town square, and a desk beneath the window.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her head feeling as if it was filled with bees. She couldn’t focus; she couldn’t understand. Her mind kept going back and forth between compassion and rage, understanding and utter sorrow. She had cared for Charles for many years, and part of her just wanted to ignore everything he had just said to her and marry him. She knew that they would be happy, of course. He had acknowledged the same fact. Things might be difficult at first when they return home, but she had anticipated that, even before his revelation. And she had been prepared to deal with it, because she would have been with the man she really cared about.

On the other hand, betrayal simmered just beneath the surface, and she felt as if she had never despised a person more than she despised him in that moment. He had to have known that it was not just his life that he was putting in danger when he asked her to marry him. He had to have known that this would utterly change her life from now on, no matter what choice she made. He had put her in jeopardy, and while she realized that he felt remorse for it, she was angry at his lack of tact and understanding of how things worked in society.

She cradled her head in her hands, feeling completely at a loss. What would happen if she went home? What would happen if she continued on to marry him, knowing that the whole reason he wanted to was a lie?

Why couldn’t marriage be a simple choice? Making a decision and acting on it, embracing the passion and the romance and just being together? Why did all of the formality follow it?

Because it is extremely important, she realized. Because she’d have to spend the rest of her life with the person that she chose. It is not a small decision; it is not something to be taken lightly. She couldn’t change her mind.

She thought of Lord Henry, of what he would say if she were with him. He would comfort her and protect her, and in that moment, she felt as if she needed some of that.

She rose and walked to her desk, a single thought gripping her as she did; she had to write a letter to Lord Henry, telling him what had just occurred, and what their plans were.

She was not sure if she could keep her hands steady enough in order to write, but she knew she had to try. The parchment that she laid on the desk appeared intimidating as she looked down at it. While she attempted to form the words she wanted to say in her mind, she fumbled with the ink bottle stopper.

Left with nothing to do but actually write the letter, she sighed, and wondered wildly how she should begin.

In the end, as the noises from down in the tavern had started to die down, she decided to keep the letter as simple as she could. She could explain it all later. She didn't know if she had the heart to explain it all again. That would require that she relive it, and she wasn't sure she could.

He had told her that he would make it right with her. She was at a loss. Her reputation, something she had worked tirelessly to maintain since she was young, had now been tarnished beyond repair. The only way that she, and no doubt her family, could be spared the utmost ridicule and disgrace, would be if some man stepped up and married her almost immediately before anyone discovered she had been gone.

And who on earth would take her now?

She realized that Charles had been right; how could she prove that she had not been spoiled in any way? Charles had done nothing to harm her in any way, but that didn't mean that anyone would believe them, especially potential suitors. No one would want to marry the girl who had run away with the common boy.

She steeled herself and looked down at the parchment.

Dear Lord Henry,

I hope this letter finds you soon. Mr. Barnes and I are staying the night at another inn in a little town that I have never been to before, farther east than Fair Haven.

He told me that he never wanted to marry me because he loved me. He -

She stopped for a moment, preventing herself from saying "He only wished to marry me because his father was jealous of my family and our wealth." That was not a kind thing to say, and not entirely the truth either. She may have been angry, but she was still a respectable woman.

He has not been unkind, but it certainly seems as if he, nor I, had thought this through entirely.

She sighed heavily. She hated admitting it, but she had to share the blame. Charles had been right again. She had agreed to go with him. She had every chance to say no to him, and instead, she allowed her romantic ideals to run away with her.

We are not wed yet, but he told me that we are to travel to Kingsfield tomorrow. He promised me that he would ensure we were married in order to prevent any further harm to my reputation.

She felt the tears well in her eyes as she dipped her quill back into the ink.

Lord Henry, I do not know what I should do. My entire life has been put into jeopardy. I am in no harm physically, of course, but who would take me now? I have made the choice, whether I was readily aware of the consequences or not.

If I marry Mr. Barnes, at least I can swallow my choice with pride, despite the reaction it will surely draw from those in my family's social circles. I grieve for the trouble it will cause my parents, but at least it will have been my own choice. And I think I could be happy with Mr. Barnes.

If I do not marry him, then I would return home to ridicule and my father's wrath. Not only would he be furious with me, but I do fear what he might do to Mr. Barnes. I'm sure it has been most unpleasant being near him as of late, and for that, I do apologize. It is my fault, after all.

She blotted away a tear that had fallen onto the parchment, partially smearing the last word she had written.

Please keep me in your prayers. My heart is heavy with guilt. And please give my love to my parents when you see them. They will know my decision sooner or later.

With all my love, Harriette.

She rose from her seat after she had addressed and sealed the envelope and made her way down to the tavern. She hoped that the owner was still awake so she could get the letter to Lord Henry as soon as possible.

There was not a soul downstairs, and she realized it must have been very late indeed. She feared running into Charles, but she relaxed when she didn't see his familiar blonde hair anywhere. She had wondered if he would have waited up for her.

But she didn't see the owner either. Discouraged, she looked about as quietly as she could. She heard the door to the kitchens open, and a tall, thin man with a balding head with spectacles walked out. He seemed startled when he looked up at and saw her.

"Oh, good evening, Miss," he said, wiping his glasses on his apron. "I thought everyone had gone to sleep."

She held out the letter. "I have a letter that needs to be shipped as soon as possible, sir," she said rather plainly. She had almost no strength left. Her bed upstairs seemed too far away.

The man blinked and cleared his throat. "At this hour, my lady?"

"It is urgent, sir," she said, a little more forcefully. She knew that her name held no weight out here, but that didn't mean that she couldn't try to use some of the things she had learned from her mother and father. "It is a matter that is very sensitive and could have catastrophic effects."

The man licked his lips and swallowed. He wiped his glasses off once more, as if he had forgotten he had just done so.

"Well, all right," the man said, turning back toward the kitchens.

Relaxing, she made to turn around back toward the stairs up, but she stopped when the man said, "Miss?"

"Yes?" she replied.

"You're here with that young man, yes? About this high, sandy-colored hair?"

She felt a weight in her chest. "I am."

He looked around, even though there was no one else in the room. "He came back in not long ago. He seemed right upset. He asked for a bite to eat when he came in. Looked as if he had been kicked while he was down. Is he all right?"

She felt her chest tighten. "He's fine," she replied, more coldly than she would have liked. "He's just realizing that perhaps he has allowed his adventurous spirit to go a bit too far."

And with that, she turned away, and made her way back up to her room, all alone, feeling downright ashamed and infuriated all at the same time. She collapsed onto her bed and cried until sleep overwhelmed her and she could cry no longer.