EPILOGUE #3
Sebastian crossed to her, taking her hands. "One more week. Then she goes back to Fordshire Park, and we have the house to ourselves again."
"One more week."
"We can survive one more week."
"I hope you're right."
***
Christmas dinner was chaotic, crowded, and completely wonderful.
They had invited the local gentry, Sir William and Lady Thornton, the Reverend Mr. Cole and his wife, the Hartleys from the neighboring estate.
The dining room was full of candlelight and conversation, the table groaning with food, Eleanor presiding over the chaos from her high chair with the air of a tiny, tyrannical queen.
"She has your temperament," Lady Fordshire observed, watching Eleanor reject her mashed turnips by the simple expedient of throwing them at the nearest footman.
"So everyone keeps telling me," Harriet said dryly.
"It's a compliment, darling. Spirited girls become formidable women."
"I was hoping she might be slightly less formidable. Just for variety."
"Where would be the fun in that?"
The dinner progressed through multiple courses, the conversation flowing easily. Sebastian found himself relaxing into the warmth of good company, the pleasure of hosting and the simple joy of abundance shared.
After dinner, they gathered in the drawing room. Someone suggested games; someone else suggested music. Eleanor, overtired and overstimulated, began to fuss, and Harriet excused herself to take her up to the nursery.
Sebastian watched them go…his wife, his daughter, the two people who had transformed his life so completely.
He thought about the man he had been four years ago, standing in a crowded inn, offering his room to a woman who despised him.
He had been so certain, then, that he would never have this.
That he would spend his life loving Harriet from a distance, wanting what he could never have.
How wrong he had been. How gloriously, magnificently wrong.
"You look thoughtful." Lady Fordshire appeared at his elbow, a glass of wine in her hand.
"I was thinking about how much has changed."
"It has been quite a journey, hasn't it?
" Lady Fordshire's expression was softer than usual, the sharp edges worn smooth by wine and sentiment.
"I remember the day Harriet came home from that inn, furious because you had been there.
She ranted for an hour about your arrogance, your presumption, your insufferable concern for her welfare. "
"I remember it differently."
"I'm sure you do." Lady Fordshire smiled. "But even then, I suspected. There was too much passion in her anger. No one gets that furious about someone they truly don't care about."
"Is that so?"
"It is. I've lived long enough to know that love and hate are closer than most people think. The opposite of love isn't hate…it's indifference and my daughter was never indifferent to you."
Sebastian considered this. "You never said anything. When I came to propose, you didn't warn me away."
"Why would I? You were exactly what she needed. Someone who would match her fire instead of trying to extinguish it." Lady Fordshire's gaze drifted to the doorway, where Harriet had disappeared. "She's happy now. Truly happy. That's all I ever wanted for her."
"She is happy," Sebastian agreed. "We both are."
"Then I shall stop meddling and let you enjoy it." Lady Fordshire raised her glass. "Merry Christmas, Sebastian."
"Merry Christmas, Lady Fordshire."
***
The nursery was quiet, the candles burning low, Eleanor finally asleep after a marathon of soothing and singing.
Harriet sat in the rocking chair, watching her daughter sleep. Eleanor's face was peaceful now, all trace of the evening's chaos erased. In sleep, she looked like an angel…innocent ,perfect and utterly incapable of throwing turnips at footmen.
The door opened softly. Sebastian slipped inside, crossing to stand behind her chair.
"Is she down?" he asked quietly.
"Finally. It only took four lullabies and a solemn promise to purchase her a pony."
"She's too young for a pony."
"I know. I'm hoping she forgets by morning."
Sebastian leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of Harriet's head. "Your mother accosted me in the drawing room."
"Oh no. What did she say?"
"Nothing terrible. She told me you were never indifferent to me. That love and hate are closer than most people think."
Harriet considered this. "She's not wrong."
"I know. It's rather annoying when she's right."
"Isn't it just."
They were quiet for a moment, watching Eleanor sleep. The candles flickered. Outside the window, snow had begun to fall soft, silent, transforming the world into something out of a fairy tale.
"I've been thinking," Harriet said.
"About?"
"About the future. About Eleanor. About..." She hesitated. "About whether we should stop trying. For another child, I mean."
Sebastian was quiet for a long moment. "Is that what you want?"
"I don't know. Some days I think I'd like Eleanor to have a sibling. Someone to fight with and love and grow up alongside." She smiled slightly. "Someone to stage mutinies with, like Richard and I did."
"And other days?"
"Other days I look at our life…at Eleanor, at you, at everything we have and I think that wanting more might be greedy. That I should be grateful for what we have instead of always reaching for something else."
Sebastian moved around the chair to kneel before her, taking her hands. "You're allowed to want things, Harriet. You're allowed to hope."
"I know. But hope is hard. Hope hurts."
"It does." He kissed her knuckles.
"But it's also how we got here. Hope kept me going for seven years. Hope brought us Eleanor. Hope is what makes life worth living."
"When did you become such an optimist?"
"When I wedded a woman who taught me that impossible things sometimes happen."
Harriet felt tears prick her eyes. "You're going to make me cry on Christmas Eve."
"Would that be so bad?"
"Yes. My mother will think we're quarreling, and she'll intervene, and then I really will lock her in the wine cellar."
Sebastian laughed, that quiet laugh she loved so much.
"All right. No crying. But Harriet…whatever happens, whatever we decide…
I want you to know that I'm happy. Right now, exactly as things are.
If we have another child, wonderful. If we don't, we still have Eleanor.
We still have each other. We still have this. "
"This?"
"This life. This family. This extraordinary, impossible thing we built together." He cupped her face in his hands. "I love you. I've loved you for nine years, and I'll love you for ninety more, and nothing, not children, not circumstances, not the passage of time will ever change that."
Harriet kissed him, soft and slow. "I love you too...my love cannot be suppressed...”
"’As I you my beloved wife….As I you…”
Eleanor stirred in her sleep, making a small sound. They both froze, holding their breath, waiting for the inevitable cry.
It didn't come. Eleanor sighed, settled, and slipped back into deeper sleep.
Harriet exhaled. "We should go downstairs. The guests will wonder where we've gone."
"Let them wonder. I'm enjoying this."
"Hiding in our daughter's nursery?"
"Being alone with my wife." Sebastian pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her. "The guests can entertain themselves for a few more minutes."
They stood there, swaying slightly, while the snow fell outside and their daughter slept and the candles burned low. It was not a grand romantic moment. It was not the stuff of novels.
It was simply two people, still in love after four years of marriage, still choosing each other every single day.
It was, Harriet thought, exactly what happiness looked like.
The End
I hope you enjoyed reading " An Arranged Marriage with a Regretful Viscount”.