"I am. Crying over a few impertinent questions. It's absurd."
"It's not absurd. It's exhausting." Sebastian's voice was gentle, but there was steel beneath it. "You've been enduring this for months. You're allowed to be tired."
"I'm not just tired. I'm…" She stopped, struggling for the right word. "Broken. I feel broken, Sebastian. Like there's something wrong with me, something I can't fix, and everyone knows it."
"There is nothing wrong with you."
"Then why…" She couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't give voice to the question that haunted her every night.
Sebastian pulled back to look at her, his expression fierce. "Listen to me. There is nothing wrong with you. Sometimes these things take time. Sometimes they don't happen at all. Neither outcome means you're broken."
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one everyone blames."
"They don't blame you."
"They do. They just do it politely." Harriet wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, furious at her own tears. "Even my mother. She doesn't say it, but I can see it in her eyes. The worry. The disappointment."
"Your mother loves you."
"I know she does. That's what makes it worse." Harriet leaned against him again, too tired to hold herself upright. "I just want it to stop. The questions, the looks, the constant pressure.I want to go somewhere where no one knows us, where no one cares whether we have children or not."
Sebastian was quiet for a moment. Then: "All right."
"All right what?"
"We'll go."
Harriet lifted her head. "What?"
"We'll leave London. Tomorrow, if you wish," Sebastian's expression was perfectly serious.
"The Season can continue without us. I don't care about any of it, the balls, the dinners, the endless parade of social obligations. I care about you."
"We can't just leave in the middle of the Season. People will talk."
"People are already talking. Let them talk about our absence instead of your supposed failings." His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Where would you like to go? Scotland? The coast? The Continent?"
"I don't know. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere beautiful." Harriet closed her eyes, imagining it. "Somewhere I can breathe."
"The Lake District," Sebastian said. "Mountains. Lakes. Wordsworth country. We could rent a cottage for a month. Walk. Read. Remember why we like each other."
"We like each other?"
"On good days."
A laugh escaped her, small and watery, but real. The first real laugh in weeks.
"Yes," she said. "The Lake District. Let's go."
***
Her mother called the next morning.
Harriet was still in her dressing gown, directing the maids in their packing, when the butler announced that Lady Fordshirehad arrived. She considered pretending to be indisposed, but her mother would simply wait. Lady Fordshire had never been deterred by a closed door in her life.
"Send her up," Harriet said, and braced herself.
Lady Fordshire swept into the sitting room with the particular energy of a woman on a mission. She was dressed impeccably, as always, her silver-streaked dark hair arranged in an elegant style that Harriet had never quite been able to replicate. At sixty-two, she remained formidable.
