CHAPTER THREE #3
"Yes," she said. "How did you know?"
"Because I felt the same way." Sebastian's gaze was fixed on some distant point, his expression distant.
"Richard was the first person who ever truly knew me.
The first person I could be honest with, without fear of judgement.
When he passed I felt as though a part of myself had been amputated.
A limb I hadn't known I needed until it was gone. "
Harriet had never heard Sebastian speak so openly. The mask he usually wore had slipped entirely, revealing something raw and vulnerable beneath. She found herself leaning slightly toward him, drawn by the honesty in his voice.
"I'm sorry," she said. "For what I said at the funeral. For sending you away."
Sebastian shook his head. "You were grieving. I understood."
"That doesn't make it right. You were grieving too, and I…" She hesitated, searching for the right words. "I was so angry. At everything and everyone. You were simply... convenient."
"A convenient target for your rage?" His voice held no accusation, only understanding. "I've been called worse."
"I'm sure you have. But that doesn't excuse my behaviour."
"There's nothing to excuse. Grief makes us all do things we wouldn't otherwise.
" Sebastian finally looked at her, and his grey eyes were soft in a way she had never seen before.
"I should not have avoided you these past three years.
I should have found a way to…" He stopped, seeming to struggle with something. "I should have tried harder."
"Tried harder to do what?"
But the vulnerable moment had passed. Harriet could see Sebastian's walls going back up, brick by careful brick, and the mask settling back into place.
“It is of no importance,” he said. "What matters now is finding a solution to your family's difficulties. One that doesn't involve anyone being sold into matrimony against their will."
Harriet almost laughed. Almost. "Do you have any suggestions?"
"Several. None of them good."
"I'll take bad suggestions at this point. I'll take terrible suggestions."
Sebastian leaned back against the bench, his long legs stretched out before him. "Very well. Option one: I forgive the debt entirely, despite your mother's objections, and we find a way to satisfy the other creditors through sale of peripheral assets."
"Mr. Thornton said the other assets weren't worth enough."
"Mr. Thornton is thorough but unimaginative. There may be assets he hasn't considered…intellectual property, perhaps, or connections that could be leveraged for income. I would need to review the accounts more carefully."
Harriet felt a small spark of hope. "You would do that? Review our accounts?"
"If you'll allow me. Though I warn you, I am not a financial expert. I may find nothing."
"It's more than anyone else has offered."
"Then I'll begin tomorrow." Sebastian shifted slightly, his shoulder almost brushing hers.
"Option two: we approach the creditors directly and negotiate an extended repayment plan.
It would require some capital, earnest money, to prove good faith but it might buy you more than the month Mr. Thornton promised. "
"Where would we get the capital?"
"I could provide it."
Harriet stiffened. "Absolutely not. We've already accepted too much from you."
"It would be a loan, not a gift. With interest, if that makes it more palatable. Consider it an investment in the eventual recovery of your family's finances."
"And if we can't recover? If the estate fails regardless?"
"Then I will have lost my investment, and that will be that.
" Sebastian's tone was matter-of-fact, as though the potential loss of a fortune was merely a minor inconvenience.
"I can afford it, Lady Harriet. I am not so wealthy that such a loss would go unnoticed, but I am wealthy enough to survive it. "
It was tempting. Terribly tempting. More time meant more options, more chances to find a real solution. But accepting Sebastian's money felt wrong somehow too much like the arrangement Mr. Thornton had proposed, even if it came without the matrimony attached.
“I shall consider it,” she said finally. "What's option three?"
Sebastian was quiet for a moment. "Option three is... less conventional."
"I'm listening."
"Your family's primary asset is the estate itself, the land, the house, the name. These things have value beyond their monetary worth. There are people who would pay a great deal to be associated with such a legacy."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that there are wealthy men industrialists, merchants, members of the rising class who have money but lack social standing. For them, matrimony into an old family like yours would be a significant coup. They would pay handsomely for the privilege."
Harriet's stomach turned. "You're suggesting I sell myself to some... some tradesman?"
"I'm suggesting you consider all your options." Sebastian's voice was gentle but firm. "I don't like it any more than you do. But if the alternative is losing everything, is it not worth considering?"
"Is this your way of trying to make your own offer look more appealing? Present me with worse alternatives until I come running back to you?"
The words were out before she could stop them, sharper than she had intended. Sebastian flinched and something in his expression made her immediately regret her accusation.
"No," he said quietly. "It is not."
"Sebastian, I…"
"I have already told you that I will not be party to any arrangement that treats you as a commodity. That includes using manipulation to change your mind." He rose from the bench, his movements stiff. "I should not have raised the subject. Forgive me."
"Wait." Harriet stood as well, reaching out to catch his arm before she could think better of it. "I shouldn't have said that. I know you're trying to help. I'm just…"
"Overwhelmed. Frightened. Angry at a situation you didn't create and can't control." Sebastian looked down at her hand on his arm, but he didn't pull away. "I understand."
"Do you?"
"Better than you might think."
They stood there for a moment, frozen in a tableau that Harriet couldn't quite interpret.
Her hand was still on his arm and she could feel the warmth of him through the fabric of his coat, the tension in his muscles.
He was looking at her with an expression she had never seen before, something complicated and intense and utterly unreadable.
She should let go. She knew she should let go. But her body seemed to have other ideas, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his sleeve as though anchoring herself.
"Lady Harriet." Sebastian's voice was rough. "I think perhaps…"
"There you are!" The cheerful voice shattered the moment like glass.
They sprang apart as Lady Fordshire appeared at the entrance to the wild garden, leaning on Mrs. Briggs' arm but looking considerably more animated than she had that morning.
"I've been looking everywhere. Mr. Thornton tells me there have been developments. "
"Mama, should you be out of bed?"
"Probably not, but I was going mad with boredom." Lady Fordshire's sharp eyes moved between Harriet and Sebastian, missing nothing. "Am I interrupting something?"
"No," Harriet said quickly. Too quickly, perhaps. "Lord Vane was just... we were discussing the situation."
"Were you indeed? How fortunate that I've arrived, then. I believe I have some thoughts on the matter myself." Lady Fordshire smiled, but there was steel beneath the sweetness. "Shall we go inside? I've asked Cook to prepare tea."
It was not a request. Harriet exchanged a glance with Sebastian, brief but charged with everything that had been interrupted before following her mother back toward the house.
***
Tea was served in the drawing room, a space that held too many memories for Harriet's comfort.
This was where she had read her poetry, all those years ago.
Where Sebastian had laughed and she had decided to dislike him.
The ghosts of their younger selves seemed to hover in the corners, watching with knowing eyes.
Lady Fordshire presided over the tea service with the gracious authority she had never lost, despite everything. She poured, she distributed cups, and she offered sandwiches and cakes with the practiced ease of a woman who had been entertaining guests since before Harriet was born.
"Now then," she said, once everyone was settled. "Mr. Thornton has given me the full accounting. I understand the situation is rather dire."
"Rather dire is one way of putting it," Harriet muttered.
"Yes, well. I have always been a devotee of understatement.
" Lady Fordshire sipped her tea, her eyes moving between Harriet and Sebastian with an assessing quality that made Harriet distinctly nervous.
"I also understand that Lord Vane has generously offered to forgive his portion of the debt, and that I was foolish enough to refuse. "
"It wasn't foolish, Mama. It was principled."
"Principles are a luxury the wealthy can afford. The rest of us must be more pragmatic." Lady Fordshire set down her cup with a decisive click. "Lord Vane, I owe you an apology. I should not have rejected your offer so hastily. Pride is a poor substitute for a roof over one's head."
Sebastian shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Lady Fordshire, there is no need…"
"There is every need. You tried to help us, and I threw your generosity back in your face. That was wrong of me, and I am sorry."
"You were protecting your family's honour. I understood your reasoning, even if I disagreed with your decision."
"Honour." Lady Fordshire laughed, a sound with little humour in it. "What good is honour if we lose everything else? No, I was foolish and proud, and we are all paying the price for it now."