And now Davies was offering exactly what Sebastian had refused to take.
Did she want to wed Davies? The question seemed absurd. Of course she didn't want to wed him. He was charming and handsome and utterly devoid of any real feeling for her. Matrimony to him would be comfortable, perhaps, but empty. A transaction, nothing more.
But did she want to wed Sebastian?
The thought caught her off guard. She had spent so long hating him, then so long trying not to think about him, that she had never seriously considered what a future with him might look like.
It would be complicated, certainly. They argued constantly. They had years of misunderstanding to untangle. He was proud and sardonic and infuriatingly perceptive, and she was stubborn and sharp-tongued and far too quick to assume the worst.
But he was also kind. Thoughtful. Capable of vulnerability in ways she had never expected. He had sat in a library at midnight and confessed his fears. He had spent hours searching through dusty documents to find something that might save her family. He had offered to forgive a fortune, asking nothing in return.
And he looked at her like she was the most fascinating person in the world.
Harriet sat up in bed, her heart pounding with sudden clarity.
She did not want to wed Lord Davies. She did not want a convenient arrangement with a man who saw her as a means to an end.
What she wanted, what she was only now allowing herself to admit she wanted,was standing somewhere in the west wing, probably unable to sleep, probably torturing himself over words he wished he could take back.
But wanting something and being able to have it were two very different things. Sebastian had been clear: he would not wed her under these circumstances. He would not takeadvantage of her desperation, no matter how much he might want to.
Which meant that if anything was going to change, she would have to be the one to change it.
The question was how.
***
Dawn found Harriet dressed and determined.
She had made a decision. It might be the wrong decision but she had made it nonetheless, and she was not the sort of woman who second-guessed herself once her mind was set.
She found Davies in the breakfast room, cheerfully attacking a plate of eggs and kippers. He looked up at her entrance with a smile that was somehow both welcoming and predatory.
"Lady Harriet! You're up early. I trust you slept well?"
"Well enough, thank you." Harriet took a seat across from him. "I've come to give you my answer."
Davies's eyebrows rose. "So soon? I thought you wanted time to consider."
"I've considered. And I'm afraid I must decline your very generous offer."
The words hung in the air between them. Davies's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes hardened.
"I see. May I ask why?"
"Because you deserve a wife who enters the arrangement with her whole heart. And I'm afraid I cannot offer that."
"I told you, I don't require your heart. Only your hand."
"I know. But I require more from myself." Harriet met his gaze steadily. "I am grateful for your candor, Lord Davies. And I hope we might still reach some arrangement regarding the debt…"
"The debt." Davies's laugh was short and humorless. "You refuse my proposal and then ask me to negotiate the debt? You have nerve, Lady Harriet. I'll grant you that."
"I have desperation, which is not quite the same thing. But I also have hope that you might prove yourself a better man than your reputation suggests."
"My reputation." Davies leaned back in his chair, studying her. "And what exactly is my reputation, Lady Harriet?"
"That you are a man who does nothing without calculating the benefit to himself. That you see every interaction as a transaction."
