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“Ah … Philip, I do not think it is fair to discuss—”
Harriet was not the only one keeping secrets from him, it would seem. His own brother, cousin, and the duke’s brother-in-law all appeared to be privy to some shared mystery.
“If Harriet wishes me to know, she will tell me herself.”
Sebastian’s voice was firm, though inside, he burned to demand answers. But not like this. Not behind her back. Whatever truths she held would be meaningless unless she chose to reveal them herself.
Philip’s expression settled into harder lines. Darting a glance at Richard, he inclined his head. “As you wish. But I will repeat my warning. The apple does not fall far from the Hargreaves tree.”
Their cousin leaned forward, his tone conciliatory. “And sometimes an individual can confound expectations by rejecting the example set by parents.”
Sebastian studied Richard after the unexpected defense of Harriet. Had the earl truly reformed so thoroughly? Even worse than Richard had been his late father, unfondly referred to as the Earl of Satan in reference to the Saunton title. Since returning to England, Sebastian had been told of Richard’s conversion to honorable conduct. Philip had remained close friends with Richard throughout years of profligate conduct. Why, then, would he make no concession that Harriet might possess equally redeemable qualities?
The earl stood, after his remark, proposing a game of billiards in an obvious ploy to lighten the tension, but the other men declined. The earl had undergone quite a change in character in the years Sebastian had resided in Italy, acting as peacemaker the entire evening, and giving Sebastian cause to wonder what his cousin was about. Was he merely trying to ease tensions?
In Sebastian’s experience, Richard was rather self-absorbed with his own pleasures, so it was still startling to see him making an effort to mediate in this manner. Even the lack of a fine French brandy in his cousin’s hand after such a lavish dinner was an unexpected development.
What did Richard stand to gain from all this?
Sebastian regretted bringing Harriet to this dinner in the first place. Everyone had been on tenterhooks, and despite their foreknowledge of her attendance, they had seemed genuinely taken aback when she was actually announced. There had been so many undercurrents at dinner, he had worried that Harriet would be pulled into a whirlpool and swept away before he could grasp her.
He took another sip of coffee, but it tasted bitter on his tongue.
CHAPTER 10
Beneath the moon's soft silver light,
We wandered through the tranquil night;
Your hand in mine, our hearts entwined,
In love's sweet dance, our souls aligned.
The New Ladies’ Valentine Writer (1821)
* * *
Harriet wrapped her hands around the porcelain cup, letting the warmth seep into her fingers as she stared into the fire. The painted room was a sanctuary, but tonight, even its familiar elegance could not ease the constriction in her chest. The events of the evening had left her raw, her composure stretched too thin. She had sat through dinner with people who despised her, people who had every right to.
She had smiled, spoken when spoken to, and kept her back straight, but now that she was alone, her past sins crashed down upon her. The guilt was a heavy thing, settling in her belly.
Sebastian. Perry. Brendan. Her cowardice.
Even now, she burned with remorse over the afternoon she had drunk far too much wine, lamenting the loss of another admirer to a less sophisticated woman, and then pressed her unwanted attentions on Brendan in his own home. His wife had walked in and discovered her there, while the panicked baron was already drawing himself free of her grasp.
How could Sebastian forgive her when he learned the truth? How could anyone forgive her? She had been a terrible person. Now she could only claim to be a regretful person. It was surely premature to claim the right to be considered good after all her sins.
A quiet knock at the door startled her. Jem’s small, freckled face appeared in the dim candlelight.
“My lady,” she whispered. “You have a visitor.”
Harriet frowned. “At this hour?”
The girl hesitated. “It is Lord Sebastian.”
Her stomach flipped. The firelight flickered over her wool-clad knees as she set her chocolate aside, forcing her voice into calmness. “Send him in.”
Jem disappeared, and a moment later, Sebastian stepped inside, closing the door behind him with quiet firmness. He was still dressed in his evening clothes, though he had loosened his cravat. His gaze moved over her, from the loose tumble of her hair to the thick wool wrapper drawn close about her, the state of a woman at her fireside, private and unguarded, who had not expected the evening to bring further company.
