Sebastian watched Harriet step out of the carriage andbreathe, really breathe for the first time in months. Her shoulders dropped. Her face softened. The tight, guarded expression she had worn through all of London simply... dissolved.
"Oh," she said quietly. "It's beautiful."
"I hoped you'd like it."
"I more than like it. I may never leave."
"The owner might object."
"Then we'll buy it. I'm sure it's for sale. Everything is for sale if you offer enough money."
Sebastian laughed, surprised by the lightness in her voice. This was the Harriet he had fallen in love with, sharp and quick and prone to outrageous declarations. This was the Harriet that London had been slowly grinding down.
He had known she was struggling. He had watched it happen, helpless to stop it, as month after month passed without a child and the whispers grew louder. He had held her after balls and dinner parties, feeling her cry against his chest, and felt a rage so profound it frightened him.
Not at Harriet. Never at Harriet. At the world that measured a woman's worth by her fertility. At the society that smiled to her face and shredded her behind her back. At his own powerlessness to fix the one thing that was breaking her.
He had money. He had influence. He had all the advantages that birth and fortune could provide. But he couldn't give her the one thing she wanted most. He couldn't make her body do what it refused to do. He couldn't protect her from the grief of empty months and dashed hopes.
All he could do was bring her here, to this quiet place, and hope that peace would heal what he could not.
"Come inside," he said. "The housekeeper should have everything ready."
They explored the cottage together, the cosy sitting room with its deep fireplace, the kitchen stocked with local provisions, the bedrooms with their views of the lake. It was smaller than what they were used to, simpler, with none of the grand furniture or elaborate decorations of Thornwood Park.
Sebastian loved it immediately.
"There's only one bedroom suitable for us," Harriet observed, peering into a chamber clearly meant for servants.
"Is that a problem?"
"No. I just..." She smiled, a real smile that reached her eyes. "It feels like an adventure. Like we're escaping from something."
"We are escaping from something. We're escaping from London."
"From society."
"From expectations."
"From everyone who has opinions about our matrimony." Harriet crossed to the window, looking out at the lake. "It feels almost scandalous, doesn't it? Running away in the middle of the Season."
"Deeply scandalous. I'm sure we'll be the subject of gossip for weeks."
"Good. Let them talk." She turned back to him, her expression fierce. "Let them wonder. Let them speculate. I don't care anymore. I just want…"
She stopped, struggling for words.
"What?" Sebastian asked gently. "What do you want?"
"To remember who I am. Who we are." Harriet shook her head. "Somewhere in the past two years, I lost myself. I becameLady Vane, the one who can't conceive. That became my entire identity. And I hate it. I hate how small it makes me feel."
Sebastian crossed to her, taking her hands in his. "You are so much more than that. You're a poet. A wit. A terrible chess player and an excellent debater. You throw bread at me when I'm being insufferable, and you always know when I'm lying, and you make me laugh even when I don't want to."
"That's a rather comprehensive list."
"I've been compiling it for years." He kissed her knuckles. "You are not defined by what your body can or cannot do. You are defined by who you are. And who you are is extraordinary."
Harriet's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You really believe that?"
