Page 23 of The Courtship Trap
“I beg your pardon, what did you say?”
“Shall we go to the Reading Room?” she repeated, her expression curious.
He gave a quick bow in agreement, offering her his arm while Lady Wood returned from where she had been examining the truncated carving of a goddess in motion.
The Reading Room was hushed, winter light shining through tall windows. The scent of old paper and wax filled the air. Harriet trailed her fingers along the spines of leather-bound books, her tone wistful when she eventually spoke.
“Do you remember Avonmead’s library?”
Sebastian followed her. “I do. You always wanted to read everything.”
Harriet smiled faintly. “Because you promised we would see the world.”
Sebastian licked his lips. He did not wish to say it, but it hovered on the tip of his tongue until he could no longer stop himself.
“And yet, you did not come.” The words slipped from him, sharper than intended.
Harriet turned, her countenance clouding with regret and things unsaid. She hesitated, then made a confession he was not expecting to hear her say aloud. “Because I was afraid.”
The silence pressed in.
“Of what?” he asked.
“Of losing everything I thought I wanted.” She exhaled shakily. “I did not understand then what truly mattered.”
Sebastian stepped closer. “And now?”
Their gazes locked, so close, but Lady Wood’s polite cough from the doorway reminded them of the world beyond their moment.
And when he looked back, he knew that moment had passed. Harriet’s shields were back, the enigma of her a puzzle without a solution, and Sebastian knew it was safer for him to step back from the yawning abyss of what could have been if only she had had the courage to trust him so many years ago.
As the museum visit drew to a close, they strolled out to wait for his carriage to be brought around. Standing in an amicable silence, Sebastian looked about and thought how fortuitous it was that most of polite society had left Town for the holidays. A chance encounter would have interrupted what had been a very pleasant time, even started tongues wagging. Sometime in the near future he would leave, and being the subject of gossip would not signify then, but it was better to just savor this rite of passage without distraction.
These two weeks would serve as the farewell he had never had with the girl he had loved. So that when he left these English shores, he would finally leave the past behind, free to explore new avenues.
They drove through London, briefly making plans for their next outing, until reaching her street. Sebastian helped the ladies out and escorted them to the front door. Harriet turned as she reached it, glancing back at him with an expression of gratitude. The first of such that he could recollect.
“Thank you for today. It was … enlightening.”
Sebastian smiled faintly. “Sometimes, the past has lessons for the present.”
Harriet stepped inside, her gaze lingering on him. “And sometimes the present offers a chance to rewrite the past.”
The door closed, leaving Sebastian with her words echoing in his mind.
“If thetoncould see me now.”
Harriet surveyed the basement-level dressing room, resisting the urge to groan aloud. Dimly lit by a single high-set window, the room bore no resemblance to the elegant chambers shecommanded abovestairs. The walls of the hitherto unused closet, once cream, were now faded and blotched, and the air carried a faint scent of damp stone.
A copper tub, recently dragged down from her bedchambers, occupied a corner, its once-bright surface dulled in the muted light. Against the far wall, a clothing rack sagged under the weight of carefully chosen garments, mostly gowns and petticoats, a far cry from the extensive wardrobe Harriet should be enjoying upstairs. It was a mere two stories away, but due to the limited space, she had had to select what came belowstairs with careful thought.
Evaline, perched on a narrow bench, lifted a brow. “You look as though you mean to storm the battlefield, not change for an outing.”
“Battlefield, indeed.” Harriet gestured broadly. “Behold, my war room: a tub I cannot fill, a wardrobe I cannot manage, and not a single competent lady’s maid in sight.”
The copper tub, Harriet noted sourly, had become a mockery of her situation.
“Do you know,” she began, waving a hand at the tub, “it took Mrs. Finch and poor Jem nearly an hour to drag this monstrosity down here? All because I have no footmen to haul hot water up two flights of stairs quickly enough before it cools down. A lady of my standing, forced to bathe like a scullery maid!”
