"Well?" she demanded. "What did she say? Was it terrible?"
"She asked if I loved you."
Harriet's eyes widened. "And what did you tell her?"
"The truth. That I've loved you for seven years. That I would wed you even if you never felt the same." Sebastian shrugged. "I believe she found my answer acceptable."
Harriet stared at him. "You told my mother that you…"
"That I love you? Yes. Was I not supposed to?"
"I just…you…" Harriet shook her head, apparently lost for words. "You really do, don't you? Love me, I mean."
"Harriet, I've been fairly clear about this."
"I know, but…" She pressed her hands against her cheeks. "It's different, hearing that you said it to my mother. That you just... admitted it. Like it was nothing."
"It's not nothing. It's everything." Sebastian stepped closer, his voice dropping. "I love you. I've loved you for seven years. I will love you for seven more, and seven after that. This is not news."
"I know. I know it's not news. I just…" She broke off, her expression conflicted. "Never mind. We should go down to dinner."
She turned and started toward the stairs, and Sebastian followed, wondering what she had been about to say.
Wondering if she was finally ready to say it.
CHAPTER TEN
After dinner, Harriet took him to visit Richard's grave.
The family plot was set in a quiet corner of the property, surrounded by ancient oaks that filtered the evening light into something golden and soft. Richard's headstone was simple with just his name, his dates, and a line from a poem Sebastian didn't recognise.
Till the last petal falls, I remember.
"He loved poetry," Harriet said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not as much as I did, but he appreciated it. I wrote that line for him. After he passed, Mama had it carved on the stone."
Sebastian stood beside her, not touching, just... present.
"It's beautiful."
"Is it? I've never been sure. I wrote it in a fog of grief. I didn't know if it was good or if I was just... desperate to leave something of myself behind. Something to mark his passing."
"Poetry doesn't have to be good to be meaningful."
"No. I suppose not." Harriet knelt down, her hand resting on the cold stone. "I haven't been here since the funeral. I couldn't... I couldn't face it."
Sebastian said nothing. There was nothing to say.
"I blamed myself, you know." Her voice cracked slightly. "For not being there when he passed. He was out riding, and I was at home reading, and I didn't even know anything was wrong until they brought him back. I kept thinking, if I had been there, maybe I could have done something. Maybe I could have stopped it."
"You couldn't have stopped it."
"I know. I know that, logically. But grief isn't logical." She looked up at him, her eyes bright with tears. "I was so angry,Sebastian. At him for passing. At the world for taking him. At myself for surviving. And I didn't know what to do with all that anger, so I turned it outward. I found someone to blame."
"Me."
"You. You were there, and Richard loved you, and I couldn't understand why you got to live when he didn't. It wasn't fair, I knew it wasn't fair…but I needed someone to unleash my anger on…. and you were convenient."
Sebastian crouched down beside her. "I don't blame you for that."
