"You've been exactly as gracious as the situation warranted." Sebastian moved toward the door, then paused. "Lady Harriet…Harriet, for what it's worth, I don't believe your situation is hopeless. Difficult, yes. Complicated, certainly. But not hopeless."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because you haven't given up. And in my experience, that makes all the difference."
He was gone before she could respond, leaving Harriet alone in the drawing room with the ghosts of the past and the uncertain promise of the future.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dinner that evening was a strained affair.
Lady Fordshire had rallied sufficiently to preside over the table, though she ate little and tired visibly as the meal progressed. Mr. Thornton had been invited, a courtesy Harriet found rather irritating, given his role in the day's more uncomfortable conversations as he filled the silence with interminable observations about the weather, the roads, and the state of the nation's finances.
Harriet pushed food around her plate and tried not to look at Sebastian.
This was proving surprisingly difficult. She had spent years avoiding his gaze, training herself to look anywhere but at his face when they happened to be in the same room. But now, after everything that had passed between them, she found her eyes drawn to him against her will.
He was seated across from her, which meant that any attempt to look at Mr. Thornton required passing over Sebastian's features first. He was listening to the solicitor with what appeared to be genuine interest, nodding in appropriate places, asking thoughtful questions, contributing observations of his own. He seemed entirely at ease, as though the emotional gauntlet of the past two days had left no mark on him at all.
Harriet resented this. She felt wrung out, exhausted, her composure held together by sheer stubbornness. Sebastian looked as though he had merely enjoyed a pleasant country visit.
"Don't you agree, Lady Harriet?"
She startled, realising that Mr. Thornton had addressed her directly. "I beg your pardon?"
"I was saying that the current instability in the markets makes this a poor time to liquidate assets. Far better to hold and wait for recovery."
"If we had time to wait," Harriet said, "we would not be in this situation."
"Quite so, quite so. But one must always consider the long view…"
"The long view is a luxury we cannot afford, Mr. Thornton." Harriet heard the edge in her own voice and did nothing to soften it. "Our creditors are not interested in market fluctuations. They want payment."
"Indeed, indeed. I merely meant to suggest that hasty decisions often prove regrettable in hindsight…"
"Thank you for your counsel." Harriet set down her fork with perhaps more force than necessary. "I will take it under advisement."
A brief silence fell over the table. Lady Fordshire looked pained; Mr. Thornton looked startled; Sebastian looked... amused? No, not amused. Something else. Something that might have been admiration, quickly suppressed.
"Lord Vane," Lady Fordshire said, clearly attempting to steer the conversation to safer waters, "you must tell us about your sisters. I understand one of them has recently had a child?"
"Charlotte, yes. A boy, born in September. She's named him Richard."
The name dropped into the conversation like a stone into still water. Harriet felt something twist in her chest, gratitude, perhaps, or grief, or some complicated mixture of both.
"How lovely," Lady Fordshire said, her voice only slightly unsteady. "Richard would have been so pleased."
"He would have made an appalling godfather. All the spoiling with none of the responsibility." Sebastian smiledfaintly. "Charlotte knew exactly what she was getting when she asked him. I believe that was rather the point."
"He was always wonderful with children," Harriet heard herself say. "Do you remember the summer the Wilson family visited? Their youngest was terrified of horses, and Richard spent three days coaxing her onto a pony."
"I remember. He nearly got kicked twice for his trouble." Sebastian's eyes met hers across the table, warm with shared memory. "She sent him a letter afterward, thanking him. He kept it in his desk for years."
"He kept everything. Every letter, every drawing, and every scrap of paper anyone ever gave him." Harriet felt a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "After he passed, I found a box in his room filled with theatre programs and pressed flowers and bills from taverns. I couldn't understand why he'd saved any of it."
"Because they were memories." Sebastian's voice was soft. "Physical evidence that he had lived, that he had mattered. Richard always said that life was made up of small moments, and he wanted to hold onto as many of them as possible."
"That sounds like Richard."
