Page 47 of The Courtship Trap
“The best way,” Sebastian said, taking a sip of his wine. “It would not be Christmas without a proper pudding.”
“And the Yule log,” Lily added, dabbing her lips with her napkin. “Was that not a lark, Brendan? We made a dreadful mess of the kitchen trying to help with the sugared holly leaves.”
Brendan merely nodded, still avoiding Harriet’s gaze.
Sebastian glanced at Harriet, who had barely touched her oysters. Her expression remained serene, but there was something distant in her demeanor.
“Have you any particular traditions, Lady Slight?” Richard’s wife prompted gently, clearly trying to draw Harriet into the conversation.
Harriet smiled, though it did not quite reach her eyes. “Nothing so grand as a proper Yule log.”
Lily bit her lip, shifting in her chair. “I … I remember your mother hosted lovely Christmas gatherings,” she said quickly, as though the words had escaped before she could stop them. “When we were girls. Sophia—I mean, Lady Saunton—and I loved to dress in velvet for the holidays.”
There was a pause, barely a heartbeat long, but heavy with unspoken history.
Harriet’s fingers stilled on her napkin. “Yes,” she said softly. “She did. But these days my mother does not leave Wiltshire.”
Philip’s gaze flickered with distaste. Sebastian set down his glass, glancing between his brother and Harriet. He did not understand the entirety of what had passed between them in the past, but he knew Harriet had once been welcome at this table and he had believed she would join this family.
And yet here she sat, poised and lovely, but a stranger nonetheless.
The footmen cleared the first course and replaced it with roasted venison, fragrant with rosemary and juniper. Golden roasted potatoes gleamed alongside it, with bowls of buttered parsnips and stewed apples set at intervals down the table.
The conversation continued—of holiday gatherings, of the earl’s plans to host a Twelfth Night ball, of Brendan and Lily’s plans to spend Christmas in the countryside.
Harriet spoke when addressed but offered nothing more. Her silence was not cold, nor resentful, but it was measured.
Sebastian wondered if she, like him, was remembering what it had once been like—when her laughter had filled these halls, when she had belonged.
When she had been all but his.
Dinner continued in a similar vein, with Lily’s nervous chatter providing a distraction from the terse interactions with the duke. Richard and the countess made considerable efforts to keep the conversation going, and Sebastian noted that Lady Wood frequently spoke up to cover for Harriet, who maintained her quiet composure but he could see the strain was wearing on her. Perhaps it had been a mistake to force an intimate family dinner on her, but it was an inevitable step if their courtship were to proceed.
He did wonder about Brendan Ridley, the duchess’s brother, who barely spoke the entire meal. But, finally, it was over and Harriet and Lady Wood made a quick escape with excuses about an early morning.
The scent of strong coffee curled through the air as the four men gathered in the duke’s study, the fire casting shadows across the dark-paneled walls. Sebastian wrapped his hands around his cup, its warmth doing little to ease the simmering frustration tightening his shoulders.
Philip, seated behind his mahogany desk, was as composed as ever, his cold scrutiny resting briefly on Sebastian before he took a brief sip of his coffee.
“I am surprised you brought her here,” he said at last.
Sebastian set down his cup with deliberate care. “You made it clear you disapproved.” He met his brother’s gaze, unflinching. “Yet she came. I thought it was rather brave, considering she knew she was unwelcome.”
Brendan and Richard exchanged glances. The duke exhaled slowly, setting his own cup aside. “There are good reasons for her to be wary of attending. You do not know everything.”
Sebastian’s jaw tensed. “I know enough.”
Philip’s expression remained stern. “She was?—”
In his peripheral vision, Sebastian saw Brendan straighten in alarm, as if eager to cut the duke off. Curious. What was Brendan worried about? Richard was fidgeting with his cravat—a tell that he was nervous—before speaking up in a hesitant tone.
“Ah … Philip, I do not think it is fair to discuss?—”
Harriet was not the only one keeping secrets from him, it would seem. His own brother, cousin, and the duke’s brother-in-law all appeared to be privy to some shared mystery.
“If Harriet wishes me to know, she will tell me herself.”
Sebastian’s voice was firm, though inside, he burned to demand answers. But not like this. Not behind her back. Whatever truths she held would be meaningless unless she chose to reveal them herself.
