"Sometimes blind optimism is all we have."
Sebastian leaned forward, his grey eyes intent on her face. "Listen to me, Harriet. Davies is not a charitable man. He inherited his fortune young and has spent the years since acquiring more money, property and influence. He does nothing without calculating the benefit to himself."
"You sound as though you know him well."
"I know his type. Men who see every interaction as a transaction, every relationship as an opportunity." Sebastian's voice was grim. "He will not help you out of the goodness of his heart. He will help you only if he believes he's getting something of equal or greater value in return."
"Then what do I have to offer?"
Sebastian was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was careful. "That depends on what you're willing to give."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implications neither of them was willing to voice. Harriet thought of her mother's warnings, of Sebastian's comments about Davies's reputation, of all the ways a man might try to take advantage of a woman in her position.
"I won't compromise myself," she said quietly. "Whatever Davies wants, he won't get... that."
"Good." Sebastian's voice was rough. "Because if he so much as suggests it, I'll…" He stopped, his jaw tightening. "Forgive me. That's not helpful."
"What were you going to say?"
"Nothing that needs to be said." Sebastian sat back, putting distance between them. "Let's focus on what youcanoffer. Extended payment terms, perhaps. Or a partial settlement now with a promise of more when the estate's finances stabilize."
"Will either of those work?"
"I don't know. But they're starting points." Sebastian's expression softened slightly. "You're clever, Harriet. Far cleverer than Davies expects. Use that. Let him underestimate you, and then show him exactly how mistaken he was."
"Is that your advice? To be cleverer than my opponent?"
"It's the only advice worth giving. Everything else is just details."
The carriage hit a deep rut, throwing Harriet forward. Sebastian caught her…his hands on her arms, steadying her, preventing her from tumbling into his lap. For a moment, they were frozen like that: her face inches from his, his grip warm and solid through the fabric of her sleeves.
"Careful," he murmured.
"The road's to blame."
"Is it?"
His eyes were very grey this close, shot through with silver and shadow. Harriet could see the individual lashes, dark against his pale skin. Could see the faint lines at the corners that deepened when he smiled. Could see something in his expression that made her breath catch and her heart race.
"I should…" She didn't finish the sentence. She wasn't sure what she should do. She only knew that staying this close toSebastian Vane was dangerous in ways she was only beginning to understand.
"Yes." Sebastian released her and sat back, his expression carefully blank. "You should."
They did not speak for the rest of the journey.
***
Davies Hall was impressive in exactly the way its owner intended.
The house rose from its manicured grounds like a statement of wealth and power, all classical columns and gleaming windows and immaculate gardens stretching to the horizon. It was newer than Fordshire Park, built within the last fifty years, and it showed. Everything was polished, perfect, designed to intimidate.
Harriet was determined not to be intimidated.
The carriage rolled to a stop before the main entrance, and a footman appeared immediately to open the door. Harriet descended with as much dignity as she could muster, acutely aware of her travel-worn dress and hastily pinned hair. She had hoped to refresh herself at an inn before arriving, but Davies's invitation had been specific: come directly to the hall, where rooms would be prepared.
Sebastian dismounted from his horse and moved to stand beside her, his presence a solid reassurance at her shoulder.
"Remember," he said quietly. "Let him underestimate you."
