Chapter 8 #2
Harriet’s expression softened, a flicker of something wistful passing through her eyes. “I was terribly envious of your freedoms as a young man.”
“That is one way to describe it,” he teased. “If I recall, you once declared in a fit of pique that anything beyond the borders of England was bound to be dreadfully inconvenient and full of strange customs.”
She gave a small laugh. “I was young and foolish.”
“Young, certainly,” he conceded. “But never foolish.”
A pause. A moment of quiet understanding.
Across from them, Lady Wood continued with her novel, choosing not to interrupt their exchange.
The journey continued with pleasant conversation, their discussion drifting through old memories and musings about what additional books ought to be considered essential for a proper library.
The warmth of the carriage made the outside world seem distant, a fleeting unreality beyond the frosty windows.
Before long, the carriage slowed, and Sebastian glanced out to see that they had reached their destination.
The Royal Menagerie at the Tower of London had long been a fascination for the curious-minded. Though its heyday as a grand attraction had somewhat faded, it still held an air of mystique. Particularly in winter, when fewer visitors braved the cold.
Inside, the space smelled of straw and damp stone, with the sharp tang of animal musk. The echoes of distant growls and calls reverberated through the corridors, punctuated by the occasional rustle of unseen movement.
Sebastian watched as Harriet moved through the exhibits, her eyes alight with curiosity.
There was something vital about her, something untamed beneath the polished veneer of her societal role.
He had always known her to be a woman of intelligence and boldness, but this Harriet, this woman who had shed some of her former coquettish airs, drew him in a way he had not expected.
They paused before the lion’s enclosure, where a great beast lounged upon a raised platform, its golden eyes watching them with lazy indifference.
Harriet tilted her head, studying it. “Magnificent, is he not?”
“Indeed,” Sebastian murmured. “Proud. Regal. But dangerous if one does not understand its nature.”
Her lips curved slightly. “Are we speaking of the lion, my lord, or something else entirely?”
He met her gaze, keeping his own unreadable. “Perhaps both.”
She did not look away. The moment stretched between them, taut with something unspoken.
Then Lady Wood cleared her throat, breaking the spell. Harriet turned back to the lion, her expression shifting into something more contemplative while Sebastian exhaled slowly, adjusting his gloves.
Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the menagerie with its lingering scent of the wild, the way the air seemed thick with an ancient, primal energy …
but for the first time in years, he felt as though he was standing at the edge of something unknown.
Something that, despite his better judgment, he wanted to explore.
* * *
As the carriage rolled away from the Tower, the imposing stone fortress receding behind them, Harriet pressed her gloved hands against her lap, willing her emotions to settle.
The Royal Menagerie had been an interesting distraction, but Sebastian’s presence beside her, so close and so warm despite the winter chill, unsettled her more than the sight of the great beasts pacing behind their iron bars.
She had expected this courtship, this playacting, to be a simple matter. A few outings, a few stolen glances, and then a graceful parting when Christmas arrived, as if they had never been more than polite acquaintances.
But Sebastian had kissed her. And the memory of it moved through her like mulled wine, warm and enveloping.
He sat opposite her now, the winter sunlight filtering through the glass of the carriage, catching on the finely cut angles of his face.
There was a pensive look in his gray eyes, as if he, too, was troubled by something.
Evaline sat beside her, blissfully unaware of the silent war raging within Harriet’s chest.
Their destination was Hyde Park, a perfect place for a gentleman to promenade with a lady on his arm. Harriet had walked there many times, but not like this. Not with Sebastian.
Not with her heart in disarray.
London bustled outside the carriage, the streets teeming with life as the city prepared for the afternoon’s business. The wintry air carried the scent of roasting chestnuts from a street cart, mingling with the ever-present tang of soot from chimneys.
Sebastian broke the silence first. “Did you enjoy the menagerie?”
“I did,” she admitted, “though I confess, I have always found something rather sad about wild creatures in cages.”
He nodded slowly. “They are trapped, yes. But in a way, they are safer than they would be in the wild. Some of those animals would never survive beyond those bars.”
Harriet turned her gaze to him, studying the thoughtful set of his mouth. “Is that what you believe? That captivity is preferable to danger?”
Sebastian looked at her then, really looked, and for a moment, she thought he might say something too raw, too real. But instead, he only offered a faint, wry smile. “It depends on the creature, I suppose.”
The carriage came to a halt, jolting them slightly. Harriet glanced out the window and saw the familiar wrought-iron gates of Hyde Park.
“We are here,” Evaline announced cheerfully, adjusting her gloves.
Sebastian stepped out first, turning to offer his hand. When Harriet placed her fingers in his, a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold moved up her arm.