Page 8 of The Courtship Trap
Just then, a waif of a girl, who looked no older than twelve, came darting up the hall.
“Missus Finch, Cook says she needs ye right quick!”
The servant—Mrs. Finch, apparently—harrumphed before spinning on her heel to hurry away.
“Take the gent to the painted room, Jem,” she threw over her shoulder as she disappeared in the direction the waif had come.
Sebastian found himself staring down at the young girl, who barely stood four and a half feet tall, making him feel like a giant by comparison. Now that he had a proper look at her, he suspected she was a few years older than his original assessment.
Her large hazel eyes spoke of worldly experience, despite her slender frame. A shock of copper-brown hair and a crowd of freckles added to the impression of youth, but her gaze was inquisitive and steadfast. Even challenging, perhaps. She could easily be mistaken for a foundling, if she had not been dressed in the clothes of a maid.
“C’mon, then,” she abruptly announced before leading him down the hall. Stopping at a door at the far end, she swung it open, then skipped away without another word. Her skirts flapped soundlessly as she disappeared around a corner.
Sebastian shook his head, nonplussed. These were not the sort of servants one customarily expected in the home of a wealthy viscountess, but as the London Season had ended, perhaps Harriet’s usual staff had left for the country to prepare for her arrival?
He set these musings aside to enter the drawing room and stopped in surprised fascination. The small, gilded parlor was simply beautiful, more of a private space for the owner’s enjoyment than a public room. Every surface had been covered with intricately painted floral patterns and deities frolicking. On the smooth vertical space of the mantelpiece was a frieze of Romans going about their business while a musician strummed a string instrument.
It brought to mind a happier time, when he and Harriet had enjoyed the art in Avonmead’s attic with avid debate over brushstrokes, colors, and the subject of the paintings they beheld.
Then he registered a presence seated in a regal blue-green armchair with a gilded frame. He frowned, searching his memory for the name of the dainty blonde woman who stared back at him with the same startled recognition that must be evident on his own face.
Finally, he broke the silence with a polite bow. “Lady Wood.”
The noblewoman rose gracefully, setting her book aside. “Lord Sebastian. You have returned from Italy.”
His lips curved into a polite yet warm smile. “I have. I was hoping to speak with Lady Slight.”
“She is not at home at present,” Lady Wood replied. “I cannot say with certainty when she will return.”
A pang of unexpected disappointment stirred within him. After all the anticipation leading up to today, Harriet was not even at home?
“I see. Then perhaps you would be so kind as to convey a message?” His voice remained pleasantly neutral, though irritation threatened beneath the surface. “I will call again tomorrow.”
Lady Wood regarded him carefully, her delicate features thoughtful, almost hesitant.
“I shall deliver your message, of course. But, Lord Sebastian, I feel compelled to say …” She paused, as if weighing her words.
Sebastian waited.
“Lady Slight … no longer entertains … visitors … in her home.”
It was stated with deliberation, as if she were warning him away.
Sebastian’s frown deepened ever so slightly as he tried to parse the meaning of her words. No longer entertained visitors? Had Harriet withdrawn entirely from society? And yet, here was Lady Wood, sitting alone in Harriet’s drawing room, as though she belonged there. Why was Lady Wood unattended at Harriet’s home? Was she in residence?
Before he could stop himself, he raked a hand through his tousled hair, an old habit of his when confronted with the tiresome subtleties of high society. After so many years abroad, he had forgotten how aggravating it was to navigate the things left unsaid.
“There is no need for entertainment,” he said at last, his tone carefully measured. It seemed Lady Wood was warning him off from pursuing her hostess like some sort of besotted lordling. “I merely wish to put a question to her. About … just … something from our youth.” He did not know how to explain why he was here. His expectations had been simple—to be greeted by a pompous butler, to put his request to Harriet, and then to depart. Instead, he had found himself amidst a rather eclectic household, and Harriet was absent.
Lady Wood inclined her head. “Then I shall inform her of your return.”
Sebastian bowed once more, his head swimming with odd observations as he made his departure and wondered about the strangeness of Harriet’s home. Nothing about this visit had unfolded as he had imagined.
CHAPTER 2
When first our paths in life’s vast maze did meet,
I felt the hand of fate had led my feet;
