Sebastian nodded once, then turned and walked away toward the west wing. Harriet watched him go, her heart doing something complicated in her chest, before finally retreating into her suite to prepare for dinner.
***
The gown she had brought was her finest, a deep blue silk that brought out the color of her eyes and skimmed her figure in a way that was elegant without being improper. Mary helped her dress and arranged her hair in an elaborate upsweep, securing it with the pearl pins that had been her grandmother's.
"You look beautiful, my lady," Mary said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "Lord Davies won't know what hit him."
"That's rather the point."
She descended to the dining room at precisely eight o'clock, determined to project confidence she didn't entirely feel. The room was impressive with a long table set with silver and crystal, candles casting warm light across walls hung with silk damask, but it was the occupants who commanded Harriet's attention.
Lord Davies stood near the fireplace, resplendent in evening dress, his golden hair gleaming in the candlelight. And beside him, looking like a storm cloud that had wandered into a garden party, stood Sebastian.
He was watching her. She could feel his gaze like a physical weight, tracking her progress across the room. He had changed for dinner as well, his dark evening clothes a sharp contrast to Davies's lighter palette, and something about the severity of his appearance made her pulse quicken.
"Lady Harriet!" Davies came forward to greet her, his eyes sweeping over her figure with open appreciation. "You are a vision. That gown is magnificent."
"You're too kind, my lord."
"I am never kind. I am merely honest." He offered his arm. "Shall we dine?"
The meal that followed was, by any objective measure, excellent. Course after course of exquisitely prepared food, accompanied by wines that probably cost more than Harriet's entire wardrobe. Davies was an attentive host, keeping up a steady stream of conversation that ranged from society gossip to politics to art.
He was also, Harriet noticed, quite skilled at flirtation.
Every comment was layered with double meaning. Every glance held an invitation. He leaned close when he spoke to her, found excuses to touch her hand, laughed at her witticisms with the delighted appreciation of a man who had discovered a rare treasure.
It should have been flattering. Any woman would have been flattered by the attentions of such a handsome, wealthy, charming man.
But Harriet found herself glancing at Sebastian instead.
He sat across the table, eating little, drinking less, responding to direct questions with monosyllables. Hisexpression was shuttered, revealing nothing, but Harriet could see the tension in his shoulders, the white-knuckled grip on his wine glass, the way his jaw tightened every time Davies leaned too close to her.
He's jealous, she realised with a start.Sebastian Vane is actually jealous.
The thought sent a thrill through her that she immediately tried to suppress. This was not the time for romantic revelations. She was here to negotiate, to save her family, not to analyse Sebastian's emotional responses.
But knowing didn't stop her from feeling a small, secret satisfaction every time Davies touched her hand and Sebastian's expression darkened.
"Tell me, Lady Harriet," Davies said, as the servants cleared the dessert course. "What do you do with yourself in the country? Surely Fordshire Park cannot offer the entertainments of London."
"I read. I walk. I manage the household accounts when my mother will allow it." Harriet shrugged. "Country life has its pleasures."
"And its limitations. A woman of your intelligence must find it stifling."
"I find it peaceful. London is exciting, but it can also be exhausting."
"And lonely?" Davies's voice dropped, becoming more intimate. "I imagine a woman in your situation must feel rather... isolated. Unattached, with all the pressures that entails. The expectations. The judgments."
"I manage well enough."
"But you shouldn't have to merely manage. You should thrive. Flourish." Davies leaned closer. "A woman like you deserves a situation that allows her to be everything she's capable of being."
Harriet was acutely aware of Sebastian's gaze on them, heavy with something she couldn't quite name.
"And what situation would that be, my lord?"
"That," Davies said, "is precisely what I'd like to discuss. In private, if you'd be so kind."
