Harriet turned onto her side, facing the direction of his voice even though she couldn't see him. "What did you say? What did you do?"
"If I told you, you would only add it to your list of reasons to despise me."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. I've learned recently that my list may not be as accurate as I believed."
Another long silence. When Sebastian spoke again, his voice was careful, measured.
"There was a moment," he said slowly. "Years ago. When I could have chosen kindness, and instead I chose... something else. Fear, perhaps. Pride, certainly. I've regretted it ever since."
Harriet's heart was beating faster than it should. She had the strangest feeling that they were approaching something important, some truth that had been waiting years to be spoken.
"What moment?" she asked.
But Sebastian only sighed, and when he answered, the wall was back in place. "It doesn't matter now, as it is a thing of the past. We should try to sleep, the morning will come whether we're ready for it or not."
"Sebastian…"
"Goodnight, Lady Harriet."
The finality in his tone brooked no argument. Harriet lay in the darkness, listening to the storm and the crackle of the dying fire, and wondered what he had been about to tell her.
She was still wondering when sleep finally, mercifully, claimed her.
***
The storm broke sometime before dawn. Harriet woke to pale grey light filtering through the windows, the rain reduced to a gentle patter, and the unfamiliar sensation of having slept deeply despite everything. She lay still for a moment, disoriented, before the events of the previous night came flooding back.
Sebastian. The room. The conversation in the dark.
She turned her head carefully, half expecting to find him watching her from across the room. But his bed was empty, the covers thrown back, and through the gap in the dressing screen she could see that the door stood slightly ajar.
Her first emotion was relief as she would not have to face him immediately, or have to navigate the awkwardness of ashared morning. Her second emotion, following close on the first, was something she refused to examine too closely.
She rose and dressed quickly, doing what she could with her hair in the absence of her maid. The face that looked back at her from the small mirror above the washstand was pale and tired, with shadows under her blue eyes that no amount of cold water could banish. But there was nothing to be done about it now.
She found Sebastian in the inn's small dining room, seated at a table near the window with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He looked... different, somehow. Or perhaps she was simply seeing him differently. In the grey morning light, without the drama of firelight and storm, he seemed more ordinary….more human.
He rose as she approached, a courtesy she had not expected.
"Good morning," he said. "The roads are still muddy, but the innkeeper believes they'll be passable within the hour. I've taken the liberty of ordering breakfast."
"You do seem fond of taking liberties."
"Old habits." He pulled out a chair for her, another unexpected courtesy. "Did you sleep?"
"Eventually. You?"
"Eventually."
They regarded each other across the table, and Harriet was struck again by how strange this was ,sharing breakfast with Sebastian Vane as though they were acquaintances, or even friends, rather than two people who had spent seven years pointedly ignoring each other.
"About last night," she began, not entirely sure what she meant to say.
Sebastian held up a hand. "There's nothing to discuss. We were both tired, both... melancholy. Things were said that needn't be repeated in the light of day."
"I wasn't going to…"
"I know." His smile was brief, perfunctory. "I merely wished to spare us both the awkwardness of acknowledging it."
