Page 68 of The Courtship Trap
Because none of it was true about Sebastian.
He had never tried to cage her.
In their youth, he had encouraged her interests, treated her mind as an equal, invited her to explore the world with him, to share in his adventure on the Grand Tour. She had been the one to refuse. He had been the one to fight for the right to marry her all those years ago.
Even now—Harriet pressed her lips together, her throat burning—he had defied the duke, come to her the night before, clearly committed to a future with her. He had offered her everything, until he had seen the painting.
And was it fair to be angry with him for his mistrust when she had given him so many reasons to doubt her?
She had lied. Again and again, she had deceived him.
She had tricked him into a courtship.
She had hidden the truth about her past.
She had denied him the one thing he had wished for—honesty.
She could not blame him for being angry. She could not even blame him for thinking she was having an affair with Richard.
Because had she not already betrayed him once? Had she not taken his cousin Perry to her bed last year, leaving a trail of chaos until Perry had wed the country mouse and moved to Somerset?
The guilt of it crushed her.
Sebastian had every reason to turn his back on her. And he had not learned of Perry yet. At least, she did not think he had. And yet, selfishly, she still wished he would not.
CHAPTER 15
Your frowns I fear, your smiles I doubt,
Will ne’er to me incline;
The truth resolved to find you out,
I write, my Valentine.
The New Ladies’ Valentine Writer (1821)
Sebastian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His mind was still reeling from Sophia’s revelation. Harriet had been attempting to change—to atone. But what did that mean for them? Could he ever trust her again? Was there a future where he could look at her and not think of all the lies?
His gaze moved to Richard, who was watching him carefully. “And what about the girl? Jem, I believe Finch called her. Who is she?”
Richard’s expression softened slightly, as if he had expected the question. “A foundling,” he said. “Lady Slight saved her.”
Sebastian arched a brow. “Saved her?”
Richard nodded. “She was living on the streets, controlled by a despicable thief-master who used children as pickpockets. The usual scheme—take in the orphans, force them to steal, beat them when they do not bring back enough coin.” His mouth tightened. “Jem was one of the unfortunate ones. She was caught by a clerk with her hand in his pocket. He was dragging her off to be arrested when Lady Slight came upon them.”
Sebastian’s stomach twisted. He knew what would have happened next. A child thief, particularly one caught red-handed, had little hope in London’s justice system. She would have been sent straight to Newgate, crammed into a cell with hardened criminals, and treated with the same cruelty as an adult offender. If she were lucky, she would have been sentenced to transportation—to be shipped off to Australia like so much unwanted cargo. If she were unlucky …
He swallowed hard.
“Lady Slight paid the clerk off,” Richard continued. “Gave him enough coin to silence his anger and take his grievances elsewhere. Jem was frantic, convinced Lady Slight had only done it to hand her over to someone worse. It took hours to convince her to board the carriage.”
Sebastian could picture it too well. Harriet, in all her imperious splendor, taking on the role of a benevolent queen as she swept in to rescue a desperate girl. But this was not some grand social gesture made for appearances’ sake. This was real.
“And then?” he asked.
“She brought her home,” Richard said simply. “She and Lady Wood nursed her for a week. The girl had a fever, terrible nightmares. Likely half-starved before that, too. She pulled through, but as soon as she was well, she wished to leave. Returnto the streets. The little one was too proud for charity, from all accounts, so Lady Slight had to persuade Jem that she was sorely needed as a chambermaid because Lady Slight had no servants to take care of her.”
