"That sounds wonderful."
"Good." He turned to look at her, and something in his expression made her breath catch. "Harriet, I want you to know whatever happens tonight, whatever doesn't happen, there’s no wrong answer. I meant what I said about taking time."
"I know you did."
"Do you?" He took a step closer. "Because you seem... uncertain. And I don't want you to feel pressured, or obligated, or…"
"Sebastian." Harriet held up a hand. "Stop. Please."
He stopped.
"I appreciate what you're trying to do," she said. "Truly. But all this reassurance is making me more nervous, not less. You keep treating me like I'm made of glass, like one wrong word might shatter me. And I'm not. I'm confused and overwhelmed and probably making a hash of this entire situation, but I'm not fragile."
"I never said you were."
"You didn't have to. It's in every careful word, every measured distance, every time you pull back when you want to step forward." Harriet took a breath. "I saw you at the altar, Sebastian. I saw how you looked at me. You're holding yourself back, and I don't…" She stopped, frustrated. "I don't know if I want you to stop."
Sebastian went very still. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying…" Harriet pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to order her thoughts. "I'm saying I don't know what I want. I've spent so long being certain about everything, certain I hated you, certain I'd never wed, certain I knew exactly how mylife would unfold. And now everything is different, and I don't have a map anymore, and I need you to stop being so considerate so I can figure out how I actually feel."
"You want me to be less considerate?"
"I want you to be honest. Really honest. Not this careful, measured version of honesty you've been giving me." Harriet dropped her hands and met his eyes. "Tell me what you actually want, Sebastian. I care not for what you deem me capable of enduring. Tell me instead what your soul truly craves.”
The silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring.
Then Sebastian crossed the room in three swift strides, stopping just short of touching her.
"You want honesty?" His voice was rough. "Fine. Honestly, I want to kiss you properly. Not the chaste peck at the altar, but really kiss you, the way I've been imagining for seven years. Honestly, I want to hold you, and touch you, and show you exactly how I feel, because I'm terrible at finding the words. Honestly, I'm terrified that if I do any of those things, you'll realise this was all a mistake and run screaming back to London."
Harriet's heart was pounding. "And if I don't run?"
"Then I'll probably embarrass myself with the depth of my devotion." Sebastian's laugh was shaky.
"I told you once that I've wanted you for seven years. I didn't tell you that wanting you has been the central organising principle of my entire adult life. That every decision I've made, every path I've chosen, has been colored by the knowledge that you existed in the world, even if you'd never be mine."
"Sebastian…"
“You demanded the truth, and though it may forfeit your esteem, you shall have it… I love you, Harriet. I have loved you since my nineteenth year, when I was yet too green in judgment to understand the depth of my own heart. I have lovedyou through seven years of bitter estrangement; I have loved you through these past weeks of inescapable intimacy; I even loved you throughout the trial of that most harrowing wedding ceremony,” He pause for a moment.
“Whether you ever find it in your heart to return my affection is of no consequence to my devotion. I shall love you until my final breath. That is my singular desire. That is the truth that I have laid bare to you.” His eyes were blazing now, all his careful control stripped away.
The words hung between them, raw and exposed.
Harriet should wanted to say something. She knew she should say something. But her voice had abandoned her, along with her capacity for rational thought.
Sebastian loved her. Really loved her. Not duty, not obligation, not some misguided sense of responsibility to Richard's memory. Love.
"I…" she started, but he shook his head.
"You don't have to say anything. I told you, there's no pressure. I just…you asked for honesty, and I couldn't…" He broke off, running a hand through his hair. "I should go. Let you rest. We can talk tomorrow, or next week, or whenever you're ready."
He turned toward the connecting door.
"Wait."
He stopped.
