Page 39
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Bertram Hargreaves stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back, staring out at the street with a rigid air, as if he disapproved of everything he saw. He turned only when Harriet stepped inside, his cold blue eyes passing over her before cutting to Sebastian.
“Well,” Hargreaves eventually declared after staring at Sebastian for several icy seconds, his voice as smooth as silk, the menacing tone all the more dangerous for its quietness. “Lady Slight, I see you are still keeping questionable company.”
The viscount ignored Lady Wood completely, presumably a lowly widow being too far below his station to acknowledge even with a sneering insult.
Sebastian smiled, unruffled. “A pleasure as always, Lord Hargreaves.”
The older man’s lips curled with disdain. Hargreaves considered a spare to a duke beneath his notice. To make matters worse, Sebastian was no longer even the spare. His brother had sired his heir.
Harriet did not acknowledge any of it. “You must have something urgent to say if you have taken the trouble to visit,” she said lightly.
Hargreaves gave a faint smile and turned fully toward them. “I was merely paying a visit to my only child. Is that so unusual?”
“It is,” Harriet returned. “Unless you are here to harass my staff again. But let us not waste time pretending. What is it you really want?”
Sebastian observed with mild fascination as she held her father’s gaze without the slightest hesitation. The flinty viscount was not a man easily ignored, his presence formidable, the kind that made lesser men retreat. Yet Harriet faced him with the same effortless poise she had always possessed, as though he were nothing more than an inconvenience she meant to endure.
Sebastian was impressed. Harriet had always wavered in her father’s presence, so this was a remarkable evolution to witness.
Hargreaves sighed, as if disappointed by her lack of pretense. “Very well. I came to inquire about a certain … absence.”
The viscount’s attention flickered to Lady Wood and Sebastian briefly, and Sebastian surmised the wintry lord was being vague with deliberation. Perhaps he had not expected an audience for this discussion, but Harriet was obviously unwilling to make allowances for privacy. It was an astute maneuver to gain the upper hand, and Sebastian was struck to see it. As a girl, Harriet had always been terrified of disappointing her disapproving parent.
Harriet arched an auburn brow. “Whose absence?”
A thin smile. “Cooper.”
Sebastian sat straighter. The name lingered at the edge of his memory, but he could not immediately place it. Then again, it was a common name. Perhaps it was nothing. Harriet, for her part, did not react. At least, not visibly. “And why, pray, would I know anything about that?” she asked smoothly.
Her father’s glacial stare sharpened. “Because Cooper vanished last night, and we discussed this matter just days ago.”
Sebastian went still. Harriet had spent the evening at home, she had said. The reminder left a sour taste in his mouth. Had she met with this Cooper? But he said nothing. He merely sat, watchful and silent, as Harriet’s expression remained serene.
“I have no knowledge to share,” she stated mildly.
Hargreaves chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Cooper could not leave without a … benefactor.”
Sebastian watched Harriet closely, waiting for some sign of unease. But she only tilted her head. “Perhaps. Or perhaps Cooper simply decided to forge a new path.”
Her father’s gaze did not waver. “Such an endeavor will not last long without protection.”
Harriet’s smile was saccharine. “I shall be sure to keep that in mind should I ever have an opportunity to discuss it with … Cooper.”
It was clear father and daughter were being enigmatic on purpose.
Sebastian glanced toward the doorway then, drawn by the suggestion of movement beyond the threshold. The young waif stood just beyond the painted room, her wide, anxious eyes darting in before she slipped back out of sight like a frightened rabbit.
Jem.
Sebastian frowned, troubled by the unease in her posture, but then Mrs. Finch entered, carrying the tea tray, and the moment passed. Harriet poured the tea herself, her movements graceful and deliberate. “Will you take tea, Father?” she asked sweetly.
Hargreaves’ mouth thinned. “No.”
She handed a cup to Lady Wood before turning her attention back to him. “Then I suppose this discussion has run its course.”
Sebastian did not miss the flicker of irritation in the viscount’s expression. Harriet had dismissed him. Neatly, efficiently.
