Page 15 of The Courtship Trap
“Lord Hargreaves. The man is poison. And the water drawn from that well is logically compromised.”
Sebastian ground his teeth in an effort to squash his frustration. More than five years had passed, yet they had resumed this argument as if it had begun only this morning.
“For a nobleman known for his philanthropic works, you have always been most uncharitable toward Harriet, who cannot be blamed for her father’s failings.”
The duke snorted, an uncharacteristic display of ill humor for a man renowned for his composure. “Failings? The man is evil incarnate. He exploits his tenants, discards his mistresses without recompense, not to mention seducing his servants. If I had known what he was about, I would never have allowed his wife and daughter so much access to Avonmead.”
Sebastian rose, unwilling to hear Philip censure Harriet yet again. Truly, it was as if they had begun this argument only minutes earlier, rather than back in 1815, when Sebastian had first approached him for help in courting Harriet.
“It is not like you to condemn an entire family by mere proximity! I could never understand why you held Harriet accountable for Hargreaves.”
“Because I saw the same weakness of character when you did not. The self-absorption. The disregard of servants. The naked ambition.”
“Harriet is no angel, I will grant you, but she was just a young woman under the influence of a foul parent. And her mother is weak. If she had had the opportunity to walk away—she is intelligent and lively, damn it!”
Sebastian wanted to fall to his knees and howl to the heavens, the despair of a man trapped in an infinite argument. Was he Sisyphus, the cunning king who repeatedly deceived the gods? As punishment, Zeus had condemned Sisyphus to push amassive boulder up a hill, only for it to roll back down every time he neared the top, forcing him to begin again for all eternity.
What had Sebastian done to deserve such a fate? Caught between the woman he had once loved and the brother he had once looked up to. How was it possible that, at thirty years of age, still be engaging in this same endless quarrel? Yet … he was not attempting to court Harriet now, so this was a pointless battle to revisit.
Philip huffed in rejection. “Not an angel? London has no shortage of tales about her exploits. That apple did not fall far from the tree.”
“And you never gave her the benefit of the doubt, so we will never know what might have happened if she had married me instead of that … that wrinkled old goat, Horace Slight!”
For the second time that day, Sebastian turned on his heel and departed without a farewell.
Seething, he stalked out the front door, ignoring the footman on duty, and grunted in relief when he saw the Scott carriage at the end of the street, moving at a slow, deliberate pace and awaiting his departure, as they had anticipated this would be a short meeting.
He stormed toward it, eager to be free of his past.
What a wretched day this had been.
CHAPTER 3
Within my heart, a flame doth glow,
Yet words unspoken leave it so;
Through glances soft, I seek to share,
The secret love I humbly bear.
The New Ladies’ Valentine Writer (1821)
DECEMBER 10, 1821
Harriet gripped the letter from her Mentor, her emotions a tangle of trepidation and excitement.
Covering her mouth with her fingers, she exhaled in relief.
From her seat near the fireplace, where the cheerful flames warmed the painted room, Evaline looked up from her needlework.
“You have received good news?”
Harriet nodded. “Rumors of an altercation with Belinda Cooper at Lord Stewart’s card party. It would appear that her new benefactor is Lord Lowe. He was quite soused and handled her a bit roughly in front of the other men.”
Evaline’s delicate features pinched, and Harriet immediately felt like an insensitive lummox for not softening her words, especially given her friend’s own painful past.
“Oh, my. Miss Cooper’s prospects are bleak if she is with Lowe.”
