CHAPTER NINE #3
Harriet studied him for a moment, as though searching for the catch. "You really don't mind?"
"I would follow you anywhere, Harriet." The words came out before he could stop them, more sincere than he had intended. "Surely you know that by now."
Something shifted in her expression, surprise, maybe, or something warmer. She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again.
Then she crossed the room, bent down, and kissed him.
It was brief, a quick press of lips, barely more than a brush, but Sebastian felt it like a brand. When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For... being you. For not making this difficult."
"I endeavour to be as uncomplicated as possible."
"That's not a word."
"It should be."
She laughed, and the sound settled into Sebastian's chest like a warm ember. He would burn down the world to keep making her laugh like that.
"I'll write to my mother," Harriet said. "Tell her to expect us within the week."
"I'll make the arrangements."
She nodded and turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Sebastian?"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad you're coming with me. I wouldn't want to do this alone."
She was gone before he could respond, but her words lingered in the air like a promise.
I wouldn't want to do this alone.
It wasn't a declaration of love. It wasn't even close. But for Sebastian, who had spent so long being held at arm's length, it felt like the beginning of something new.
***
The journey to Fordshire Park took three days.
Three days of shared carriage rides, of conversation that ranged from trivial to profound, of slowly peeling back layers that had been carefully constructed over years.
Sebastian had thought he knew Harriet had spent seven years studying her from a distance, but he was discovering that observation was no substitute for intimacy.
She talked about her childhood and Richard, who had been her closest friend as well as her brother. She talked about her father, whose death had left them in such precarious circumstances….her mother, whom she loved fiercely even when she found her exasperating.
"She wanted me to find a good husband,” Harriet said, on the second day. "Not for money, necessarily, but for security. She saw what happened when Papa passed away, how quickly everything can fall apart and she didn't want that for me."
"That's understandable."
"I know. But I resented it at the time. I felt like she was trying to sell me off to the highest bidder." Harriet looked out the window, her expression distant. "I didn't understand that she was trying to protect me. I thought protection meant controlling."
"Perhaps it can be both."
"Perhaps." She turned back to him. "What about your parents? Were they... protective?"
Sebastian considered the question. He rarely spoke about his parents who had passed a decade ago, and he had spent most of his adult life trying not to think about them.
"They were... distant," he said finally. "My father cared about the estate, the title, the family legacy. My mother cared about social standing and appearances. I was useful to them as long as I fulfilled their expectations. Beyond that..." He shrugged. "We were not close."
"That sounds lonely."
"It was. But I had Richard." Sebastian smiled at the memory. "He was the first person who ever seemed genuinely interested in who I was rather than what I represented. He became the brother I never had."
"He spoke about you often." Harriet's voice was soft. "Before he died. He said you were the best man he knew."
"He was generous in his assessments."
"He was honest. Richard was always honest, sometimes to a fault." She reached across the space between them and took his hand. "I'm glad you had each other. Even if it makes me miss him more."
Sebastian squeezed her fingers. "I miss him too."
They sat in silence for a while, hands intertwined, watching the countryside roll past. It should have been uncomfortable, speaking of the dead, sharing grief, but instead it felt like a relief. A burden shared, a weight distributed.
"Thank you," Sebastian said eventually.
"For what?"
"For talking about him. For letting me talk about him." He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. "I don't often have the chance."
"Neither do I." Harriet's smile was bittersweet. "Everyone is so careful around me. So worried about upsetting me. They don't understand that sometimes I just want to remember."
"I understand."
"I know you do." She looked at him with an expression he couldn't quite decipher. "You always have."
Sebastian didn't know what to say to that, so he simply held her hand and watched the road ahead, and tried not to hope too desperately for things he might not be allowed to have.
***
Fordshire Park rose from the landscape like an old friend.
Sebastian had visited before, during his years of friendship with Richard, but he had never approached it like this, as a returning son, as the husband of its daughter. The house seemed different now, somehow. More significant. More personal.
Lady Fordshire was waiting at the front door.
She looked better than she had the last time Sebastian had seen her, the colour returned to her cheeks, a new steadiness in her posture. But her eyes were the same: sharp, assessing, missing nothing.
"Well," she said, as they descended from the carriage. "This is a pleasant development."
"Mama." Harriet embraced her mother, and Sebastian saw her shoulders relax in a way they rarely did. "You look well."
"I feel well. Considerably better than I did a month ago, thanks to you." Lady Fordshire's gaze moved to Sebastian. "Lord Vane. I trust you've been taking adequate care of my daughter."
"I've been trying, Lady Fordshire. Whether I've succeeded is perhaps a question for Harriet."
"Hmm." Lady Fordshire's expression gave nothing away. "We shall see."
She led them into the house, and Sebastian felt himself being observed at every turn, not just by Lady Fordshire, but by the servants, by the very walls themselves.
This was Harriet's home, the place where she had grown up.
Every room held memories he wasn't privy to, histories he was only beginning to understand.
It was, he reflected, rather intimidating.
"I've put you in the east wing," Lady Fordshire was saying. "Separate rooms, of course, as is proper."
Sebastian caught Harriet's eye and saw her suppress a smile. Separate rooms. As though they were mere acquaintances rather than husband and wife.
"That will be fine, Mama," Harriet said. "Thank you."
"Dinner will be at seven. I'm sure you'll want to rest after your journey." Lady Fordshire paused at the foot of the stairs. "And Sebastian, I’d like a word with you before dinner, if you can spare the time. In my sitting room. Shall we say six o'clock?"
It was not a request.
"Of course, Lady Fordshire. I'm at your disposal."
"Excellent."
She swept away, leaving Sebastian alone with Harriet in the entrance hall.
"Well," Harriet said. "That went well."
"Did it? I felt rather like I was being evaluated for purchase."
"You were. Mama is very thorough in her assessments." Harriet patted his arm in a gesture that was probably meant to be comforting. "Don't worry. She is fond of you.”
"How can you tell?"
"She didn't insult you directly. That's practically a declaration of affection." Harriet started up the stairs. "Come. I'll show you to your room."
Sebastian followed, his mind already racing ahead to the conversation with Lady Fordshire. He had a fairly good idea what she wanted to discuss, and he wasn't sure he was ready for it.
But then again, he wasn't sure he would ever be ready. Some conversations simply had to be endured.
***
At precisely six on the hour, Sebastian presented himself at Lady Fordshire's sitting room.
She was seated in a chair by the window, a cup of tea cooling on the table beside her. She gestured for him to sit, and he did, feeling rather like a schoolboy called before the headmaster.
"You wanted to speak with me, Lady Fordshire."
"I did." She studied him for a moment, her dark eyes which were so like Harriet's were assessing.
"Tell me, Lord Vane. Do you love my daughter?"
Sebastian blinked. He had expected pointed questions, but not quite so directly.
"Yes," he said, because there was no point in dissembling. "I have for some time."
"How long?"
"Seven years. Since before she hated me."
"And you entered into matrimony with her knowing she did not return your feelings."
"I wedded her hoping she might learn to. But I would have wedded her regardless." Sebastian met Lady Fordshire's gaze steadily. "I would rather have Harriet's tolerance than any other woman's love."
Lady Fordshire was quiet for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
"You're either a fool or a romantic," she said. "Possibly both."
"Almost certainly both."
"Hmm." She took a sip of her tea. "My daughter is not an easy woman, Lord Vane. She is stubborn, sharp-tongued, and has spent the better part of her adult life convinced that vulnerability is weakness. She will not make your life simple."
"I don't want simple. I want her."
"Even when she pushes you away? Even when she says things she doesn't mean? Even when she retreats behind her walls and refuses to let you in?"
"Even then." Sebastian leaned forward. "Lady Fordshire, I've spent seven years watching Harriet from a distance.
I know exactly how difficult she can be.
And I know exactly how extraordinary she is beneath all those defenses.
I'm not espousing the idea of her. I'm espousing the real woman, walls and all. "
Lady Fordshire set down her teacup with a soft click. "Splendid,” she said. "That's exactly what I needed to hear."
"It was?"
"My daughter deserves someone who sees her clearly. Not a fantasy of who she could be, but the reality of who she is." Lady Fordshire's expression softened slightly. "I believe you might be that person, Lord Vane. But I wanted to be certain."
"And are you? Certain?"
"I'm... cautiously optimistic." She rose, signalling the end of their interview. "Don't disappoint me, Sebastian. I would hate to have to destroy you."
Sebastian rose as well, recognising a dismissal when he heard one. "I'll do my best to avoid destruction."
"See that you do." But she was smiling, and as Sebastian left the sitting room, he felt as though he had passed some kind of test.
He found Harriet waiting in the hallway, her expression anxious.
"Well?" she demanded. "What did she say? Was it terrible?"
"She asked if I loved you."
Harriet's eyes widened. "And what did you tell her?"
"The truth. That I've loved you for seven years. That I would wed you even if you never felt the same." Sebastian shrugged. "I believe she found my answer acceptable."
Harriet stared at him. "You told my mother that you…"
"That I love you? Yes. Was I not supposed to?"
"I just…you…" Harriet shook her head, apparently lost for words. "You really do, don't you? Love me, I mean."
"Harriet, I've been fairly clear about this."
"I know, but…" She pressed her hands against her cheeks. "It's different, hearing that you said it to my mother. That you just... admitted it. Like it was nothing."
"It's not nothing. It's everything." Sebastian stepped closer, his voice dropping. "I love you. I've loved you for seven years. I will love you for seven more, and seven after that. This is not news."
"I know. I know it's not news. I just…" She broke off, her expression conflicted. "Never mind. We should go down to dinner."
She turned and started toward the stairs, and Sebastian followed, wondering what she had been about to say.
Wondering if she was finally ready to say it.