Page 67 of The Courtship Trap
Sebastian nodded. “An accident, was it not? A misfire?”
A muscle in Richard’s jaw twitched. “Yes. An accident.”
Something about the way he said it made Sebastian straighten.
Richard cast a quick glance at Sophia, who gave an encouraging nod before he continued. “Lord Wood was a gentleman, as you well know from his reputation. He was”—he broke off, shaking his head—“a monster. He had abused Lady Wood for years, being noted for his fists, and the last few weeks of his life he had kept her locked away in that house of his. I doubt she saw sunlight for the better part of a month.”
Sebastian frowned, his mind sifting through the quiet observations he had made of Lady Wood over the weeks oftheir acquaintance. She had always been composed, measured in her words and actions. There was a delicacy about her—not of frailty, but careful restraint. Now, knowing what Richard was telling him, he understood why.
“She endured it for years,” Richard went on grimly. “And when she was finally free, when he died …” He paused, swallowing hard. “I was there, Sebastian. Wood was drunk, and he had a pistol. We struggled, and it went off. The fool shot himself.”
Sebastian’s brows furrowed, but he said nothing.
Richard exhaled sharply. “Afterward, Lady Wood should have been free, should have been able to live on her own terms. But instead, she was left at the mercy of her husband’s kin. They withheld her stipend, forced her to live as a poor relation in the very home where she had once been mistress. Where she had been manhandled. She should have been able to walk away and rent herself a new home, away from her nightmares.”
Sebastian felt a slow burn of anger rise in his chest. It was a common-enough cruelty—widows cast aside, their security stripped from them the moment their husbands died. It did not make it any less despicable.
“I tried to help her,” Richard continued. “Repeatedly. I offered her legal assistance, a place to stay—anything she needed. But she refused. She told me I had done enough by freeing her from her marriage.”
Sophia let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head. “She did not trust men. Not after what she had been through. And I do not blame her.”
Richard nodded. “Eventually, Sophia and I came to a conclusion. If she would not accept help from me, perhaps she would accept it from another woman.”
Sebastian frowned. He already knew where this was going, and it was giving him a lot to think about.
“We turned to Lady Slight,” Richard confirmed. “She had already begun this … this path of hers, trying to make amends. We asked her if she would extend an offer to Lady Wood in our place. She did. And Lady Wood accepted. Apparently, Lady Slight was most persuasive.”
Sebastian sat back, absorbing this revelation. He thought of Harriet and Lady Wood together, the way they so often moved in unison, a widow’s solidarity that had seemed natural. He had questioned how Lady Wood had come to be under Harriet’s roof. Now, knowing the truth, it cast the entire arrangement in a different light.
“Lady Wood reports that she is pleased with the arrangement,” Sophia added. “She enjoys the company of another widow. And Lady Slight seemed pleased, too. It has been a transition for her—shifting from the shallow social obligations of her past to a life more meaningful—but together they have found some peace and become a good influence on each other.”
Sebastian exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He was not certain what he felt. Shock, perhaps. Respect, even. Harriet, for all her flaws, had achieved the extraordinary.
And yet, the sting of betrayal still simmered beneath the surface.
“She never told me any of this,” he muttered.
“Because if she told you the good she had done, she would need to tell you why she had made those changes. She would have to tell you about the bad,” Richard replied. “I believe she has not because she has yet to forgive herself for her mistakes, so she assumes neither will you.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened. He had no response to that.
“If you are the man I believe you to be, I think you can persuade Lady Slight that she has done enough,” remarked Sophia. “It is time for Harriet Slight to let the past go.”
The room fell silent.
Even Finch, usually so brash and full of sharp opinions, seemed to recognize that her earlier words had done little to ease Harriet’s misery. The scent of tea and freshly baked biscuits hung in the air, but no one reached for them now. Instead, they sat together in uneasy quiet, all their efforts to lift Harriet’s spirits having failed.
Finally, Evaline sighed, smoothing her skirts, her fingers toying with the fine embroidery as she searched for the right words. “Men are a prison,” she said softly. “They trap your soul, repress your spirit. Cage you in a prison of expectation and disparate duty, while they carouse about and keep mistresses without a thought for the women they have bound to them.”
Her words rang heavy in the air, and for the first time since their acquaintance, Harriet truly heard the bitterness beneath Evaline’s composed exterior.
“I spent years locked away in a house that was never mine,” Evaline continued, her voice steady but laced with pain. “Told when to speak, how to act, what to wear. Forbidden to leave without permission. I lived as a ghost while my husband dined at clubs, drank himself into stupors, and took his pleasure elsewhere. He was never reprimanded for it, never scorned. But I? I was expected to endure. Because that is the role of a lady.”
She looked up, calm and unflinching. “Perhaps there is no place for men in our lives. Perhaps we do not need them at all. Look at what we have built together. This house is filled with warmth, with laughter, with friendship. We have each other. Why should we allow men to dictate our happiness when we have already found something far more lasting?”
Belinda nodded in quiet agreement. Even Finch grumbled her approval, though she busied herself with refilling her teacup as if reluctant to admit that Evaline had put words to that which she had long believed.
Harriet said nothing.
