Harriet was quiet for a moment. Then she burst out laughing real, genuine laughter that shook her whole body.
"How unfortunate for them," she managed, wiping her eyes.
"Terribly unfortunate."
"I should feel sorry for her. Lady Davies, I mean. It must be humiliating."
"Should you?"
"I don't, though." Harriet shook her head. "Is that terrible? She was so cruel to me, and now..." She trailed off. "It seems wrong to take pleasure in her suffering."
"Perhaps. But it also seems very human." Sebastian set the letter aside. "Lady Davies made her choices. She wedded Davies knowing what kind of man he was. She built her sense of worth on being superior to others. Now she's facing the consequences."
"I suppose." Harriet turned back to the window, her expression thoughtful. "It's strange, isn't it? A year ago, I would have given anything to have what she has. A husband, an heir, the approval of society. Now..."
"Now?"
"Now I realise that none of it would have made me happy. Not without love. Not withoutthis." She gestured at the cottage, the lake, the quiet life they had built here. "Lady Davies has everything I thought I wanted, and she's miserable. I have nothing that society values, and I'm..." She paused, as if surprised by her own words. "Happy. I'm actually happy."
Sebastian felt something ease in his chest. This was what he had hoped for…not just escape from London, but actual healing. Actual peace.
"I'm glad," he said quietly. "That's all I've ever wanted for you."
"I understand," She crossed the room to him, settling onto the arm of his chair.
"You're rather wonderful, you know. In case I don't say it often enough."
"You could say it more often. I wouldn't object."
"You're wonderful. Adequate. Occasionally tolerable."
"That's quite a range."
"I contain multitudes."
He laughed and pulled her into his lap, and they sat together watching the rain fall on the lake, and Sebastian thought that he would happily spend the rest of his life exactly like this.
***
The storm trapped them inside for two full days.
It came without warning, the sky darkening, the wind rising, the rain lashing against the windows with a fury that made the cottage shake. Harriet, who had feared storms since childhood, found herself curling against Sebastian as thunder rolled across the mountains.
"It's just a storm," he murmured, his arms wrapped around her.
"I know. I'm being irrational."
"You're being human. There's nothing wrong with being afraid."
She pressed her face against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, letting it anchor her. "Richard used to sit with me during storms. When we were children. He would tell me stories to distract me."
"What kind of stories?"
"Adventure stories, mostly. Pirates and explorers and daring escapes. He was terrible at them, the plots never made sense and he kept forgetting his own characters, but it helped."
"Would you like me to try?"
Harriet lifted her head. "You want to tell me a story?"
