When Harry Met Molly

Molly folded the letter and tucked it in the pocket of her garden apron. Harry’s teachers must have despaired of his handwriting when he was a boy. So typical of him not to care.

Yet so endearing, too.

But she couldn’t smile.

No, she had to stop thinking of him. Stop thinking of all those things she loved about him.

She put away her shears. Then she walked into the house, up her father’s wide staircase, and to her room to pack for the trip to London. She was in the market for a husband. Perennial bachelors with bad penmanship simply wouldn’t do.

Chapter 43

“I’ve got big news, brother,” Roderick said, tying his cravat in the looking glass.

“Let me guess.” Harry took a sip of his brandy.

It was early evening, and his parents’ ball would commence in less than an hour. Harry was in the opulent suite Roderick and Penelope shared when they stayed with the duke and duchess.

“You know already, don’t you?” Roderick smiled.

Harry put the brandy down and stood up. “I can tell just by that grin on your face. Your fertility and your legacy are assured. Penelope is with child, and you think it’s a boy.”

Roderick laughed. “Yes, you devil. Is it that obvious I’m proud to have caused my beautiful wife to breed yet again?”

“Yes, it is.” Harry slapped him on the back. “Well done. And how are you so sure this time that she’ll produce a son?”

Roderick sighed. “She feels different, she said. And her maid did some kind of trick with a spoon on a string and proclaimed the babe to be a boy. But truth be told, if we have another little Penelope, I’d be equally glad.”

“You know what this means, don’t you?” asked Harry.

“Not exactly,” Roderick replied, pouring himself his own brandy.

“If you have a boy, I will no longer be the spare.”

Roderick paused. “You’re right.”

“I shall be released from the one duty I’ve been carrying all my life.”

Roderick gazed at him. “I can’t tell if you’re relieved—or will somehow miss it.”

Harry raked a hand through his hair. “I’m mixed, actually. Being the spare has defined me all these years. As being the heir has defined you.”

Roderick nodded in understanding. “It does get rather wearying, doesn’t it?”

The brothers both sat on the edge of the bed. “I sometimes think, Roderick”—Harry felt his jaw clenching —“that even now, Father doesn’t know me. Or care to.”

Roderick sat silent for a moment, then said, “He isn’t the most affectionate of men.” He lightly punched Harry’s arm. “I should have noticed you more. Given you that attention every boy needs.”

“You needed it, too.”

Roderick shrugged. “I got plenty of attention from Father. It might not have been warm, or particularly personal, but I did feel important.” Roderick threw out an arm and intoned, “What would happen to the world without the house of Mallan? It would stop spinning.” He grinned, but it was wistful. “That was the feeling I got from Father.”

They sat quietly again, and Harry noticed he felt happy, despite the awkwardness of their conversation. It was good to sit with his brother and be…accepted.

“I knew I always had you,” Harry blurted out, his voice hoarse. With emotion, he supposed. Ever since that week at the hunting box with Molly, and all the feelings he’d felt there, he’d been more emotional than he’d ever been. He swallowed hard. “Thank you for believing in me when the whole world didn’t.”

Roderick lowered his brandy. “You mean…about what happened to you in the army?”

Harry nodded. “It’s been difficult. Really difficult. To not be able to defend myself.”

Roderick sighed. “Is that why you’ve simply…given in? Been what everyone expects of you?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Part of it. Especially because Father expects so little of me. I’m not quite sure he believes I was protecting a lady’s honor. And still am.”

“Harry,” Roderick remonstrated with him. “As much as Father knows you’re doing the right thing, the frustrated parent in him doesn’t like standing by doing nothing. Trust me, I know, now that I’m a father myself, how much I’d hate to feel useless if one of our girls were in trouble.”

Harry sighed.

“He may not show it,” Roderick said, “but he loves you. He does. Feel sorry for him that he can’t show it more readily.” Roderick paused. “Do you love him, Harry?”

Harry stared at the floor. Did he? Did he love the man who’d shown him almost no attention and definitely no affection—for his entire life?

His brow creased. “Yes,” he said, looking at Roderick. “I do. I don’t know why, but I do.”

“Then tell him. Don’t wait for him to tell you. That might never happen, but you can tell him. And be at peace. Finally. That’s another reason you’re an Impossible Bachelor, isn’t it? Because you’re angry.”

Harry stared at Roderick. “Yes,” he said. “I’m angry.”

Roderick’s gaze locked onto his. His expression was concerned. Accepting.

Hopeful.

Harry smiled. “It’s time to move on, isn’t it?”

Roderick nodded. “I’m proud of you for realizing it. I knew it long ago, but unless it comes from your own heart—it can’t happen, can it?”

They both stood. A beat passed, and then Harry threw his arms around his brother and squeezed him hard.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

Roderick hugged him back. “No. Thank you for being there for me. Now that I look back on it, you always have been.”

Harry laughed. “Except for one time.”

“Oh, yes,” Roderick drawled. “When you kissed my wife.”

“She wasn’t your wife then.”

Roderick laughed. “Actually, that episode brought me around. I’m afraid I’d been taking her a bit for granted. I’ve never taken her for granted since.”

“Well, you’d best not quit now. We’re five minutes late, you know, for the gathering in the drawing room.”

Roderick rolled his eyes in mock horror. “There’ll be hell to pay from Mother and Penelope, won’t there?”

“Yes, but I’m used to it from Mother,” said Harry.

“Just wait until you get married.”

“That’ll be the day,” Harry murmured with a wicked grin.

They both chuckled and bounded down the stairs. Harry watched Roderick sail to Penelope’s side and kiss her soundly.

The retorts Harry used to defend his bachelor status were so habitual he could recite them in his sleep. But somehow, today, in light of Roderick and Penelope’s wonderful news and their… togetherness, those platitudes rang false even to his own ears.

Which was rather disconcerting.

Was he losing his touch?

He decided he rather didn’t care at the moment.

There were more important things to think about. Like family. And friends. And having a good time at a small