Epilogue
“Even a broken compass points north when the storm has passed.”
Impressions of England by an Unrepentant Foreigner
Marco entered the breakfast room with the air of a victorious Roman general returning from a glorious campaign. His head was held high, his chest almost puffed out in smug triumph, and he beamed as a man who had acquired new aspirations and was heading down a promising path.
He was well aware that anyone who encountered him would know that he had been thoroughly contented in his marriage, well and truly settled.
He waved away the distinction with a private smile.
He was wed and entirely satisfied, the result of a night spent in close communion with his incomparable Molly.
Gathering up a plate from the sideboard, while a footman deposited a silver coffeepot on the table for him, Marco heard muffled voices quarreling in Italian.
It would seem that Sebastian and Lorenzo were at it again, in the family drawing room adjacent to the breakfast room.
He paused, angling his ear to shamelessly eavesdrop through the thin connecting doors and ignoring the footman’s presence.
His friends’ continuing standoff had been piquing his interest since Florence, and he wondered if he might learn something about their disagreement.
“We have been here an eternity! Our friend has met a maiden and married while you continue to delay!”
Lorenzo sounded agitated, and Marco grimaced in sympathy. His impatient friend was growing ever more frustrated, it would seem.
“The time is not right.”
Sebastian’s low growl was hard to hear. Marco pursed his lips, staring down into his coffee cup while contemplating Sebastian’s continuing reluctance and wondering what he should do to help.
“The time is never right! What is it about this … this … this bit of muslin that has you hiding under the stairs like a schoolboy?”
“Watch how you act!”
“No! Not this time, Sebastian! You keep delaying, and it is unlike you to behave so cowardly. We need that painting if I …”
Lorenzo broke off, apparently defeated. At least, for this instant.
Marco sighed heavily. He was afraid whatever their strange quest was, if Sebastian did not act soon, he might rend their lucrative partnership in two.
Which would be a pity, because the two men had been close friends for a long time, and Marco wanted them to continue their success.
Who on earth was the woman who caused a man such as Sebastian to balk so?
There was a long pause, until, finally …
“You are right. My apologies, Lorenzo.”
The scraping of a chair announced that the Italian, the lighter of the two men, had left, perhaps storming out, loud footsteps sounding out in the hall.
Marco picked up his cup and sipped while he thought about how contentment, it seemed, was a powerful motivator and how fortunate he was to have found his so swiftly.
Sebastian appeared seconds later in the doorway, stalking over to the sideboard and rifling around until he turned to take a seat at the table with a laden plate.
Marco refrained from commenting, watching the Norseman with a sympathetic gaze.
Sebastian stared at his plate but did not pick up his fork nor make any move to eat.
“You overheard our argument.”
It was not a question, so Marco said nothing.
The giant Englishman raised both large arms to comb through his mane of hair, his elbows bracketing his head as he exhaled deeply.
“I know you were not the same after that English girl died of consumption. It makes me wonder how you have found the courage …” He stopped, evidently overcome by a tumult of feeling, and Marco wished he knew what comfort to provide as Sebastian rubbed his jaw and stared toward the garden with unfocused eyes.
“How do you find the courage after your heart has been so utterly crushed that it scarcely seems capable of mending?”
Marco understood his friend’s pain even if he did not understand the circumstances of his heartbreak.
He weighed his words carefully, because Sebastian needed a hopeful answer.
Despite his good nature, it would appear his Nordic friend had been burdened these many years, which he had hidden well until the day Marco had announced he was leaving for England.
“What choice do we have, my friend? We cannot give up on the future when it has so much more to offer than the past.”
“You believe I should stop delaying?”
“I think you have an opportunity to close the door on an old chapter. As painful as it might be, it must be done if you are to find your way forward again.”
His friend’s face was blank over the next few minutes, but Marco waited with patience as he allowed Sebastian to think, something Lorenzo was ill-equipped to do due to his restive character, which had likely prolonged the arrival of this moment.
Sebastian nodded, exhaling a puff of air as he finally reached a decision and announced, “Then the time has arrived to pay a call on Lady Slight.”
What will happen when Sebastian knocks on Harriet’s door? Find out in Lady Slight and the Visitor.