She stepped closer, peering through the gap in the doorway, and felt her breath catch in her throat.
Sebastian was sitting in one of the leather armchairs near the fireplace, a book open on his lap, his face illuminated by the glow of a single candle. He was still dressed in his evening clothes, though he had removed his coat and loosened his cravat, and there was something about the informality of his appearance that made Harriet's pulse quicken despite herself.
He looked up, as though sensing her presence, and their eyes met through the half-open door.
"Lady Harriet." His voice was soft, pitched not to carry. "Can you not sleep either?"
She could leave. She could apologise for disturbing him, retreat to her room, pretend this encounter had never happened. It would be the proper thing to do. The safe thing.
Harriet pushed open the door and stepped inside.
"It seems we have that in common," she said. "Sleeplessness."
"One of many things, perhaps." Sebastian set aside his book and rose. "Would you like to sit? I can ring for tea, if you wish.”
"No, don't disturb the servants. I just... I couldn't quiet my mind. I thought reading might help."
"A sound strategy. Though I confess it hasn't worked particularly well for me." Sebastian gestured to the book he had abandoned. "I've read the same page four times without taking in a single word."
Harriet moved to the bookshelves, more to give herself something to do than from any real desire to find a book. She could feel Sebastian's eyes on her, tracking her movement through the room, and her skin prickled with awareness.
"What were you reading?" she asked, keeping her voice light.
"Poetry, as it happens." She heard the smile in his voice. "I thought it might be soothing. I was wrong."
"You read poetry?"
"On occasion. Does that surprise you?"
"I suppose I didn't take you for a poetical man."
"I am a man of many hidden depths, Lady Harriet." A pause. "Some of them quite shallow, admittedly."
Despite herself, she laughed. It was a small laugh, quickly stifled, but genuine. Sebastian's lips curved in response, and something in his eyes warmed.
"That's better," he said. "I haven't heard you laugh in... I don't know how long."
"I haven't had much to laugh about."
"No. I suppose not." He moved closer, not touching her, but near enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Harriet…may I call you Harriet? It seems absurd to maintain formality at this hour."
"You may." Her voice came out slightly breathless. "Harriet is fine."
"Harriet, then." He said her name carefully, as though testing the weight of it on his tongue. "I want you to know that whatever happens with the estate, the debts, all of it,I will not abandon your family. I made a promise to Richard, and I intend to keep it."
"You keep mentioning Richard." Harriet turned to face him. "As though he's the only reason you care what happens to us."
"Is he not?"
“I find myself without an answer. Perhaps you will be so good as to provide one?”
The challenge hung in the air between them. Sebastian's expression was difficult to read in the candlelight, half shadow, and half gold, like something out of a painting.
"Richard was my closest friend," he said slowly. "His family became my family, in many ways. When he passed, I felt that loss not just for myself, but for all of you. For what you had lost, and what I had lost along with it."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Doesn't it?"
