Page 42 of The Courtship Trap
“Then Hatchards was the right place for such an endeavor,” Sebastian replied. “Have you thought of any more titles?”
“I will need novels, of course, but also travelogues. I should like to read of faraway places. Perhaps it will inspire me to venture beyond England’s shores one day.”
Sebastian’s lips quirked. “Ah, so you will take to wandering at last? I seem to recall someone invested in my enthusiasm for the Grand Tour in our youth.”
Harriet’s expression softened and grew wistful. “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 huffed 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 deemed 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 occasional 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, alight with curiosity. There was something fierce 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—intrigued him in a way he had not expected.
They paused before the lion’s enclosure, where a great beast lounged upon a raised platform, 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, his expression carefully composed. “Perhaps both.”
She did not look away. The moment stretched between them, taut with things unsaid.
Then Lady Wood cleared her throat, breaking the spell. Harriet turned back to the lion, her demeanor shifting into something more contemplative while Sebastian let out a slow breath, adjusting his gloves.
Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the menagerie—the 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 carriagerolled 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 lingering presence beside her, so close and so warm in 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 burned through her like mulled wine, warm and heady.
He sat opposite her now, the winter sunlight filtering through the glass of the carriage, catching on the clean, striking lines of his face. He appeared pensive, as if he, too, was troubled. 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 shambles.
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?”
