Page 37 of The Courtship Trap
“One evening, he found himself in a dispute over a game of cards,” Evaline continued. “A dispute which, in his drunkenness, he decided to settle with a pistol.”
Sebastian’s expression did not change, but Harriet saw a knowing air settle as if he recalled whatever story had made it to him on the Continent. “Ah.”
“Yes. He stormed into the home of another lord, pistol in hand, and demanded retribution for his supposed slight.”
“I assume the other lord was not particularly receptive to such demands?”
Evaline let out a dry chuckle. “No, he was not. They struggled over the pistol, and it went off.”
Harriet sighed, shaking her head. “The gossip was tremendous.”
Evaline gave a small shrug, as though it were nothing more than an amusing anecdote rather than the defining moment that had left her reliant on the charity of others. “It was a relief, in some ways. I was finally free of him. He was not a pleasant man, nor his family with whom I had to stay after his death.”
When Evaline then explained how much worse it might have been if not for the mercy of his death, Harriet reached for her hand in sympathy. And her heart squeezed at Evaline’s subsequent words of gratitude for Harriet’s generosity.
Sebastian looked between them both before murmuring, “So you came to live with Harriet.”
Evaline inclined her head. “A few months ago, she was kind enough to offer me refuge, and I was wise enough to accept.”
Harriet smiled at her friend, some of the guilt that had been clawing at her chest receding. At least she had done some good things to atone for her ugly past. At least she had provided Evaline with a safe haven when she needed it most.
Sebastian’s gaze flicked to Harriet, as if assessing her. “And you? Did you find it easy to take in a houseguest?”
She met his eyes, summoning a semblance of lightness.
“Would you believe it was rather an easy transition? Evaline has excellent taste and took charge of my household in a way that I never had patience for.”
Sebastian hummed, clearly unconvinced, but before he could say more, the carriage rolled to a stop. Harriet exhaled, relieved. The coachman opened the door, and Sebastian descended first, offering his hand to help Evaline and Harriet down. The moment her feet touched the ground, she squared her shoulders.
Home. Safe ground.
She stepped forward, only for the door to swing open before she reached it. Mrs. Finch stood at the threshold, her usual look of stern competence fixed firmly in place.
“Tea, if you please, Finch,” Harriet said as she removed her gloves. “I could use a warm cup after all that shopping.”
Finch did not move. “Ye’ve got a visitor, m’lady.”
Harriet’s fingers stilled. Something about the way Finch said it, the clipped tone, the lack of elaboration, sent a prickle of unease down her spine. She swallowed. “Who?”
Finch did not answer. She merely stepped aside with a grim expression that told Harriet all she needed to know. Harriet turned to Sebastian and Evaline. “Well, come in, then. No use lingering in the cold.”
She swept past Finch into the painted room, her heart thudding, and the moment she entered, she saw him.
Bertram Hargreaves stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, his stiff posture signaling his bristling displeasure.
Harriet stopped just inside the doorway. How? How had he found out so soon?
She barely kept her expression schooled as Sebastian and Evaline entered behind her. Sebastian’s presence gave her strength. She lifted her chin, ignored her father entirely, and turned to her guests.
“Please, sit,” she said, gesturing toward the elegant chairs near the hearth.
Sebastian hesitated only a fraction of a second before he moved to take his place, his gray gaze flicking between Harriet and her father as he lowered himself into the chair opposite her. Evaline, less affected by the tension, followed suit.
Harriet turned to Finch. “You may bring the tea now.”
Finch hesitated, as if she, too, expected some sort of explosion to occur at any moment, but when Harriet arched a brow in silent command, the housekeeper gave a short nod and disappeared down the hall.
Harriet finally turned to her father. “You need not loom like a specter, Father,” she said smoothly. “Do take a seat.”
