I don't hate you anymore. I haven't for a while.
It was more than he had dared hope for. And it was nowhere near enough.
Sebastian moved to the fireplace, staring down at the dying embers. He had known, going into this, that Harriet didn't share his feelings. He had made his peace with that reality years ago, burying his hopeless devotion beneath layers of sardonic detachment. He had watched her from across ballrooms, exchanged barbs with her at dinner parties, and told himself that proximity without possession was better than nothing at all.
Now he would have possession. Or some version of it. A wife who tolerated him, who had chosen him as the lesser of several evils.
It should feel like a victory. So why did it feel like defeat?
Because he wanted more. That was the shameful truth of it. He wanted Harriet to look at him the way she had looked at that ridiculous poetry of hers with passion, with fire, with the fierce certainty of someone who had found something worth caring about. He wanted her to choose him not because she had no other options, but because she couldn't imagine wanting anyone else.
He wanted her give him her heart, though he knew that would never happen.
Sebastian pressed his palms against his eyes, fighting the wave of self-pity that threatened to overwhelm him. This was ridiculous. He was getting exactly what he had offered a matrimony of convenience, a chance to help Harriet's family,nothing more. He had no right to feel disappointed when she took him at his word.
But feelings, as it turned out, didn't much care about rights.
He stayed in the library until dawn began to grey the windows, then dragged himself upstairs to his room to change for breakfast. Whatever private anguish he felt, he could not let it show. Harriet was doing him an honor by accepting his proposal an honor he didn't deserve and the least he could do was accept it graciously.
Even if it meant spending the rest of his life wanting something he could never have.
***
Lady Fordshire took the news better than expected.
"Betrothed?" she repeated, looking between Harriet and Sebastian with an expression that was half surprise, half calculation. "To each other?"
"No, Mama, to other people entirely. We simply thought we'd announce it together for dramatic effect." Harriet sighed. "Yes, to each other. Sebastian has proposed, and I've accepted."
"I see." Lady Fordshire settled back against her pillows, her sharp eyes studying them both. "And when did this... development... occur?"
"Last night," Sebastian said. "I apologise for not seeking your permission beforehand, Lady Fordshire. The circumstances were somewhat unusual."
"I imagine they were." Lady Fordshire's gaze moved to Harriet. "Darling, could you give us a moment? I'd like to speak with Lord Vane privately."
Harriet hesitated. "Mama, if you're going to interrogate him…"
"I'm going to have a perfectly civil conversation with my future son-in-law. Run along."
There was no arguing with that tone. Harriet shot Sebastian an apologetic look and retreated from the room, closing the door behind her.
The moment she was gone, Lady Fordshire's expression sharpened.
"Now then," she said. "Let's dispense with the pleasantries. You're entering into matrimony with my daughter to save our family from financial ruin. Is that correct?"
Sebastian inclined his head. "In part."
"And the other part?"
"I have... long held Lady Harriet in high regard. The opportunity to assist her family while also securing her hand in matrimony is not one I would willingly pass up."
"High regard." Lady Fordshire's smile was thin. "An interesting way to phrase it. Tell me, Lord Vane, how long has my daughter captured your heart?”
Sebastian felt his carefully constructed composure crack slightly. "Lady Fordshire…"
"Don't insult my intelligence. I've watched you watch her for years. At balls, at dinner parties, at Richard's funeral. You look at her like she hung the moon, and you've been doing it since before she decided to hate you." Lady Fordshire tilted her head. “Is she aware?”
"She knows I have... feelings. She does not reciprocate."
