Page 32 of The Courtship Trap
Evaline dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “I assume one of those problems was Miss Cooper?”
“Miss Bélise Coupier now. We have a French lady’s maid to do for us,” Harriet corrected with a playful smirk.
Evaline blinked, then let out a small, surprised laugh. “You are serious?”
Harriet spread her hands. “It is the done thing, is it not? If one must assume a new position in society, one must have a suitably mysterious name.”
Evaline shook her head in amused disbelief. “I can only imagine what she thought of that particular notion.”
“She found it ridiculous,” Harriet admitted, “but I think she rather likes it.”
“Then I suppose that is one matter handled. And the other?”
“The grooms are moving the tub back to my rooms. Fletcher assures me he can keep them in line, so they will help with hauling hot water for us, but I have a more permanent solution.” Harriet sat back in her chair, proud of her ingenuity. “I have sent word to the veterans’ charity I have been supporting recently, requesting recommendations for footmen.”
Evaline’s brows lifted slightly. “That is an excellent idea.”
Harriet nodded. “I thought so, too. Our coachman, Fletcher, was my inspiration. There are so many honorable men who have returned from war with no place to go. I requested men of good character, strong enough for their duties but not so severe as to frighten our staff. I stipulated that injuries or appearance were not a disqualification, thinking there might be some excellent candidates who would not usually be considered for footmen.”
Evaline’s gaze softened. “That is rather inspired.”
Harriet gave a small shrug, trying to appear unaffected. “It is practical. And it is only fair, given what they have sacrificed.”
Before Evaline could respond, the front door knocker sounded down the hall, the loud rap startling in the quiet of the morning. Someone knew about her shortage of staff, and that they needed to be heavy-handed with the brass ring if they wished to be attended to.
Harriet straightened instinctively. A moment later, Mrs. Finch entered, her ever-stern expression in place. “Lord Sebastian’s ’ere.”
Harriet’s heart gave a small, unwelcome flutter. She had not expected him so soon. She and Evaline rose, dabbing their napkins to their mouths before making their way to where Sebastian waited in the entrance hall.
Impeccably dressed as ever, his navy coat fit snugly over broad shoulders, his snowy cravat in the same loose knot that she assumed must be a style from Florence. His gray eyes flicked to hers immediately, scanning her face in that way he always had, as if she were a puzzle he could solve, if only he studied the pieces long enough.
He bowed slightly. “Good morning, ladies.”
“Good morning, my lord,” Harriet replied smoothly.
A pause. A hesitation, almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless. Then, his voice dropped to a quieter register.
“And how did you spend your evening?”
Harriet’s stomach tightened. She had no intention of telling him about Belinda. The last thing she needed was Sebastian prying into her affairs, casting judgment where it was not wanted about her goings-on. So she smiled—a slow, practiced smile—and said, “Oh, I spent a quiet evening at home.”
Sebastian’s expression darkened. Something passed through his gaze, something sharp.
“You did not go out at all?”
“No,” Harriet said lightly, forcing a casual shrug. “I was rather tired after our visit to the museum.”
His jaw ticked. She had not expected him to look so dissatisfied.
Evaline cleared her throat delicately, cutting through the tension. “I believe we are ready?”
“Of course.”
Sebastian’s gaze lingered on Harriet for a beat longer before he nodded once, curtly. Harriet and Evaline donned their overcoats, gloves, and bonnets. When she had assembled herself, Sebastian offered her his arm and she took it, even as she wondered why he seemed so very displeased.
Sebastian sat stifflyin the carriage, his arms crossed as he studied Harriet from the corner of his eye.
She had lied to him. The way she had smiled—too poised, too smooth—when she told him she had spent a quiet evening at home. The slight hesitation before she answered. The way her chin lifted ever so slightly in defiance, as if daring him to challenge her.
