Chapter 17
That which slew me can restore me,
Bid me with new ardor rise:
Then I still will fall before thee,
Captured by thy beaming eyes.
The New Ladies’ Valentine Writer (1821)
* * *
December 20, 1821
Sebastian sat stiffly in the drawing room of his brother’s grand townhouse, his jaw locked as he stared at the Duke of Halmesbury. The atmosphere was tense, the silence thick with unspoken grievances. Beside him, Richard shifted, ever so slightly, but kept his focus on the duke.
Philip leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he regarded them both.
His expression was unreadable, but Sebastian knew his brother well enough to recognize the flicker of calculation in his gaze.
The fire in the grate burned steadily, indifferent to the difficulty of what was being attempted in the room.
“So,” Philip finally said, his voice cool and measured. “You wish me to grant my blessing on a marriage to a woman I have warned you against.”
Sebastian’s hands fisted in his lap. “I am not here to ask for your permission,” he stated. “I am here to tell you that Harriet and I will be married. But I would prefer that you support us and accept her into this family as she deserves.”
Philip arched a brow. “Deserves?”
Richard cleared his throat. “If I may, Halmesbury. Lady Slight has undergone a … transformation of sorts. I believe you are not aware of the good she has done these past months.”
Philip’s eyes flicked to Richard, assessing. “And what, pray, has she done to earn such praise from you?”
“Lady Slight sought me out in August, after the situation with Brendan. She asked for my help in pursuing her own road to redemption.”
Philip exhaled, frowning slightly. He was clearly taken aback by this announcement.
“Truly? In what way?”
Sebastian exchanged a look with Richard before speaking. He nodded. Harriet had given her consent to share some of her activities with the duke in an effort to mend things between him and Sebastian.
Richard leaned forward. “She has made it her mission to help those who cannot help themselves. To make up for her misdeeds. Women who have been cast aside. Servants who have nowhere else to turn. She took in Lady Wood when her own family would not aid her. She saved her maid, Jem, from life on the streets. She fought for Belinda Cooper when Harriet’s father left her to ruin. And Finch, her housekeeper—”
Philip held up a hand, stopping him. He exhaled through his nose and averted his eyes, his expression thoughtful. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked steadily into the silence. “And you believe she has done all this out of genuine goodwill? A genuine desire to … change her behavior?”
“Yes,” Sebastian said without hesitation. “I have seen it with my own eyes. She is not the woman she once was.”
The duke was silent for a long moment. Then, to Sebastian’s utter surprise, he nodded.
“Very well,” Philip said. “You are determined, and I can see I will not sway you. If this is what you truly want, then I will not stand in your way.”
Philip exhaled slowly, his fingers still loosely steepled beneath his chin. He looked past Sebastian, his gaze unfocused, lost in memory.
“For years, I have made decisions in the belief that I was acting in your best interest, but since your return, I have reflected on the strain between us,” Philip said at last. “I believed I was protecting you. I thought I knew what was best.” He paused, his mouth pressing into a firm line.
“But I suspect now that I failed you, Sebastian.”
Sebastian frowned, his back straightening. “What are you saying?”
Philip’s gaze met his directly, his usually impenetrable mask giving way to something raw, something regretful.
“I should have had more faith in you. More faith in your ability to choose your own path, to make your own future. You carved out a career in Florence, far from my influence.” He shook his head slightly.
“When I refused to support your courtship all those years ago, when I let my reservations about Lady Slight cloud my judgment, I was certain I was preventing disaster.” His lips curved wryly.
“And yet, all I did was ensure years of unhappiness for both of you.”
Sebastian’s breath caught. Of all the things his brother could have said, he had not expected this. Not an admission of fault. Not this … this understanding.
Philip sighed. “I should have listened to you back then. Stood beside you. But I let duty, and my own beliefs, dictate my actions. I forgot that you were my brother, deserving of my confidence and regard, not merely a duty to be managed.” He hesitated, then continued, “I do not wish to make that mistake again. I want to be part of your life.”
Sebastian’s throat was tight, his emotions warring within him. He had spent so many years resentful of his brother’s interference, so much time convincing himself that Philip would never see him as anything but the younger brother, the reckless, impetuous spare who needed to be managed.
Now, his brother was sitting before him, acknowledging his mistakes and accepting them.
Something inside Sebastian softened.
He did not hesitate. Rising swiftly, he strode forward, and before Philip could react, he grabbed him in a crushing embrace.
Philip stiffened in shock, his arms pinned at his sides. “Sebastian—”
“Shut up,” Sebastian muttered against his shoulder, squeezing tighter.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, with an exasperated sigh, Philip relented, his arms coming up to clap Sebastian on the back in an awkward, hesitant motion.
It was not the embrace of men practiced in the art of it.
It was stiff and brief and graceless and entirely genuine, the kind that only brothers manage, and only rarely.
Richard, still seated, let out a low chuckle. “Well, this is unexpected.”
Sebastian pulled back, clapping a firm hand on Philip’s shoulder. “You were a scoundrel about it, you know.”
Philip rolled his eyes, straightening his coat. “I am aware.”
Sebastian grinned, warmth spreading through him.
He could feel the past shifting, settling into something lighter.
It had been a long time to carry a grievance, and he found, somewhat to his surprise, that setting it down was not the defeat he had always imagined it would be. It felt rather more like relief.
Philip gave him a long look. “You truly love her, do you not?”
“With everything in me,” Sebastian answered without hesitation.
Philip nodded. “Then I suppose you should marry her.”
Sebastian grinned. “I intend to.”
Philip exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Heaven help me, I am going to have to be civil to her, am I not?”
“Yes, you are.”
Philip sighed. “Well, let us hope she does not make it too difficult. I shall make arrangements for us to accompany you to Calais for the ceremony.”
Sebastian laughed, his heart lighter than it had been in years. Across the room, Richard caught his eye and gave a small, satisfied nod, as though reasonably confident all along that things would end this way, and was not above a quiet acknowledgment of the fact.
Sebastian had gained his heart and his brother back, and it felt good.