CHAPTER 9
The house felt strangely quiet after Esther’s departure. Harriet stood by the window of the drawing room, watching her sister’s carriage disappear down the drive, feeling both comforted by her visit and anxious about the challenges ahead.
As she turned from the window, she heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Simon had returned. Harriet took a deep breath, bracing herself for their next interaction. Their encounters had been filled with tension and misunderstanding, but today, she hoped for something different.
Simon entered the room, his expression unreadable as he paused in the doorway. Harriet felt a familiar tension fill the air, but she was not about to let it deter her.
“Welcome home, Your Grace,” Harriet said, her voice carefully neutral as she clasped her hands together.
Simon nodded, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made Harriet’s heart skip a beat. “I would much prefer if you could call me Simon.”
Simon.Using his first name implied a level of intimacy that they certainly did not share. But she did not want to turn down his request.
“As you wish,” she bowed slightly. “Welcome home, Simon.”
Now, please. Do not take issue with me calling the estate a home.He had not lived here for a whole year, and she did not want to fuel up another argument.
Simon looked between her and the staircase. As though he was contemplating whether or not to continue the conversation. Eventually, though, he must have made the decision to stay just a little bit longer.
“How was your day?”
“It was... pleasant,” Harriet replied, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping into her cheeks under his steady gaze. “My sister Esther visited.”
“Ah, I see,” Simon nodded, his interest piqued. “How is she?”
“She’s well. She has recommended a few nursemaids for Catherine,” Harriet said, watching him closely for any reaction. “I thought they might be a good fit.”
“You told her about the baby?” Simon asked but his tone was not accusatory. Rather, it was more neutral. Harriet was beginning to realize this about him — he had a knack for keeping his emotions in check.
“I did,” Harriet nodded. “You must forgive me, but I had to seek out her expertise on the matter. She raised us practically as a mother when Frances and I were young, and has children of her own. I felt that she was the best person to ask.”
Simon raised an eyebrow. “You do not have to explain yourself. I only asked if you did.”
Harriet composed herself, perhaps her nerves had gotten the best of her and she had said too much. “I felt as though you would want an explanation given the sensitivity of the topic. But it is nothing to worry about — I know Esther, she would never reveal anything I do not want her to.”
“You trust her?”
“Of course, Your—Simon,”she corrected herself swiftly. “She is my sister, and I trust her with my life.”
“I see,” he nodded, his expression once again unreadable. “Well, if that is what you believe then I have no qualms about you consulting her.”
Harriet pulled out the piece of paper on which Esther had written the details of the nursemaid. She had kept it tucked awayin one of the sides of her dress. “Here. This contains the details of the nursemaid recommended by my sister.”
Simon nodded, taking the piece of paper from her hands. Their fingers brushed for a second, and Harriet felt the heat rise to her cheeks.
Compose yourself,she chided internally. But Simon did not seem to notice the change in her colour.
“This lady seems to be in Scotland,” he noted. “Are you sure that she would want to pack up her life and come and work here at the estate?”
Harriet frowned, her embarrassment now replaced with worry. “I should hope so. Esther only had high praise for her, and I want the best for little Catherine.”
Simon looked up at her as she said that, holding her gaze for a moment. Then, he folded up the paper and put it in the front of his pocket.
“Very well, then. I shall contact her, and see if something can be arranged.”
“Thank you,” Harriet said, earnestly. “That would be for the best.”
They stood there in silence once again, effectively running out of topics to speak about. She realized that it was not as though shecould just ask him about his day — or God forbid, more personal questions.
