"Of course I would."
"You're certain?"
"Sebastian." She took his hand, her grip firm. "I'm fine. I promise."
But there was something in her eyes, something guarded, something she was hiding that made his chest tight with worry. He had spent two years learning to read her, to understand thesubtle shifts in her expression that signaled joy or fear or sorrow. He knew when she was lying.
She was lying now.
He didn't push. Whatever she was hiding, she would tell him when she was ready. That was how their matrimony worked,trust and patience and the faith that they would always, eventually, find their way back to each other.
But the not-knowing gnawed at him. Had the peace of the Lake District been an illusion? Was she dreading the return to society? Had he done something wrong, said something that hurt her without meaning to?
He ran through every conversation, every moment, looking for clues. He found nothing.
All he could do was wait.
***
Thornwood Park welcomed them home like an old friend.
The servants greeted them warmly, the familiar rooms embraced them, and for a moment…just a moment…Harriet felt the peace of the Lake District follow her through the door.
Then the nausea surged again, and she barely made it to her chamber pot in time.
When she emerged, pale and shaking, Sebastian was there.
"Harriet." His voice was worried. "This has been happening every morning. Don't tell me it's nothing."
"It might be nothing."
"But it might not be."
She looked at him…really looked at him and saw the fear in his eyes. Not fear of illness. Fear of hope.
He had figured it out. Of course he had. He knew her too well to miss the signs.
"I don't know for certain," she said quietly. "I won't know for weeks yet. It could be nothing. It's probably nothing. I've felt this way before, and it's never meant…"
"Or it could be everything."
She nodded, tears threatening. "Or it could be everything."
He crossed to her in two strides, pulling her into his arms. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want to get your hopes up. I didn't want to see that look on your face and then have to watch it crumble again." She pressed her face against his chest. "I've watched you hope before. It hurt almost as much as hoping myself."
"I would rather hope with you than have you carry this alone."
"I know. I know that now." She pulled back to look at him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
"Don't be sorry." He cradled her face in his hands. "Just don't hide from me. Whatever this is, we face it together. Remember?"
"I remember."
"Then tell me. Tell me what you're feeling."
Harriet took a shaky breath. "I'm terrified. I'm hopeful. I'm angry at myself for hoping, because hope hurts so much when it doesn't come true." Her voice broke.
