Page 12

And, for a second, Sebastian froze—much as the subjects depicted in the Marbles—when he was struck with a revelation. He was glad he had left British high society behind!

In Florence, he had found an entirely new life, a fulfilling one in the pursuit of art.

If Philip had helped him formally court Harriet all those years ago, he would never have left on his Grand Tour.

Never have met Lorenzo or Marco and Angelo Scott or any of his friends back in Italy.

Nor built his thriving business with Lorenzo.

It was regrettable that Harriet had not the courage to accompany him, but perhaps his continued anger at his older brother was something to let go.

Perhaps his grievance with Harriet was theirs alone, and it was time to stop blaming the duke for his unwillingness to assist. Sebastian exhaled, releasing much of his pent-up resentments.

Marco had been correct—facing the past would allow him to build a better future.

As he came back to the present, he found Harriet with an eyebrow arched as if she was awaiting a reply.

Running a hand through his mane of hair, Sebastian smiled politely, still shaken by the understanding that he had to leave Britain when he had.

Had to explore the exotic locations that had beckoned.

Had to arrive in Italy. It had all been a vital part of his journey.

“I beg your pardon, what did you say?”

“Shall we go to the Reading Room?” she repeated, her expression curious.

He gave a quick bow in agreement, offering her his arm while Lady Wood returned from where she had been examining the truncated carving of a goddess in motion.

The Reading Room was hushed, winter light shining through tall windows. The scent of old paper and wax filled the air. Harriet trailed her fingers along the spines of leather-bound books, her tone wistful when she eventually spoke.

“Do you remember Avonmead’s library?”

Sebastian followed her. “I do. You always wanted to read everything.”

Harriet smiled faintly. “Because you promised we would see the world.”

Sebastian licked his lips. He did not wish to say it, but it hovered on the tip of his tongue until he could no longer stop himself.

“And yet, you did not come.” The words slipped from him, sharper than intended.

Harriet turned, her countenance clouding with regret and things unsaid. She hesitated, then made a confession he was not expecting to hear her say aloud. “Because I was afraid.”

The silence pressed in.

“Of what?” he asked.

“Of losing everything I thought I wanted.” She exhaled shakily. “I did not understand then what truly mattered.”

Sebastian stepped closer. “And now?”

Their gazes locked, so close, but Lady Wood’s polite cough from the doorway reminded them of the world beyond their moment.

And when he looked back, he knew that moment had passed. Harriet’s shields were back, the enigma of her a puzzle without a solution, and Sebastian knew it was safer for him to step back from the yawning abyss of what could have been if only she had had the courage to trust him so many years ago.

As the museum visit drew to a close, they strolled out to wait for his carriage to be brought around.

Standing in an amicable silence, Sebastian looked about and thought how fortuitous it was that most of polite society had left Town for the holidays.

A chance encounter would have interrupted what had been a very pleasant time, even started tongues wagging.

Sometime in the near future he would leave, and being the subject of gossip would not signify then, but it was better to just savor this rite of passage without distraction.

These two weeks would serve as the farewell he had never had with the girl he had loved. So that when he left these English shores, he would finally leave the past behind, free to explore new avenues.

They drove through London, briefly making plans for their next outing, until reaching her street. Sebastian helped the ladies out and escorted them to the front door. Harriet turned as she reached it, glancing back at him with an expression of gratitude. The first of such that he could recollect.

“Thank you for today. It was … enlightening.”

Sebastian smiled faintly. “Sometimes, the past has lessons for the present.”

Harriet stepped inside, her gaze lingering on him. “And sometimes the present offers a chance to rewrite the past.”

The door closed, leaving Sebastian with her words echoing in his mind.

“If the ton could see me now.”

Harriet surveyed the basement-level dressing room, resisting the urge to groan aloud.

Dimly lit by a single high-set window, the room bore no resemblance to the elegant chambers she commanded abovestairs.

The walls of the hitherto unused closet, once cream, were now faded and blotched, and the air carried a faint scent of damp stone.

A copper tub, recently dragged down from her bedchambers, occupied a corner, its once-bright surface dulled in the muted light.

Against the far wall, a clothing rack sagged under the weight of carefully chosen garments, mostly gowns and petticoats, a far cry from the extensive wardrobe Harriet should be enjoying upstairs.

It was a mere two stories away, but due to the limited space, she had had to select what came belowstairs with careful thought.

Evaline, perched on a narrow bench, lifted a brow. “You look as though you mean to storm the battlefield, not change for an outing.”

“Battlefield, indeed.” Harriet gestured broadly. “Behold, my war room: a tub I cannot fill, a wardrobe I cannot manage, and not a single competent lady’s maid in sight.”

The copper tub, Harriet noted sourly, had become a mockery of her situation.

“Do you know,” she began, waving a hand at the tub, “it took Mrs. Finch and poor Jem nearly an hour to drag this monstrosity down here? All because I have no footmen to haul hot water up two flights of stairs quickly enough before it cools down. A lady of my standing, forced to bathe like a scullery maid!”

Evaline gave her a sympathetic glance. “Well, it is a fine tub. Stately, almost. Like its owner.”

“Ha! Stately? It mocked me daily. Sitting there, empty and gleaming, reminding me that I cannot even summon enough hot water for a proper soak.”

“Perhaps you might consider cold baths?”

“Cold? Have you lost your mind? I would sooner spend time with the Boyles.”

Harriet shook her head in disgust at the mere thought of the silly noble family on the next street.

She had recently been stuck in a dinner seated next to Lord Boyle who liked to woefully whine about trivial matters.

Not that he was as trying as his bacon-brained wife who perpetually spouted vulgar tongue she confused for fashionable colloquialisms—much to the lip-quivering amusement of the other dinner guests.

What was it Lady Boyle had said?

Something about how the Boyles had recently held a dinner with several bachelors, so she supposed they had provided bachelor fare.

Everyone present, other than the Boyles themselves, had experienced a sudden need to dab their mouths with their napkins lest they burst into gales of incredulous laughter.

One had to assume Lady Boyle was unaware of the true meaning of her words because mentioning doxies in polite company was simply not the done thing.

Harriet turned her attention to the clothing rack, which sagged under a small selection of gowns—muted greens, dark blues, and ivory.

Her silks and satins looked dreary in the terrible light.

The bright colors of her former wardrobe had been packed away, cut too low for her current requirements, replaced by more elegant tones better suited for her new life.

“Do you see this?” Harriet pointed at the rack. “Reduced to appropriate clothing. How far I have fallen.”

“It is practical for visiting Miss Cooper.” Evaline’s tone was mild. “And you did say you wished for new beginnings.”

“New beginnings, yes. But must they be so missish?” Harriet lifted a gown of powder-blue muslin. “This has all the excitement of tepid tea.”

“You chose it.”

“Under duress.”

Evaline tilted her head. “I prefer this new you. I think you look lovely, and it puts focus on your personality rather than … than …” Evaline’s fair face turned scarlet as she painted herself into a corner.

Harriet chuckled at her friend’s mortification. “My diddeys?”

Her friend blushed anew, her creamy skin turning to blazing red at Harriet’s crude choice of words.

“Just so.”

They both giggled.

Then Harriet spun on her heel, stalking the two steps needed to cross the room and flopping down onto the bench. She gestured dramatically at the copper tub.

“Bah! I have not had a proper bath in weeks. Weeks! Do you know why?”

“The lack of footmen, I presume?”

“Precisely. How am I expected to maintain the refinement of an important viscountess when I am forced to wash in the basement like a maid?”

“You did decide to move it here so that you could access your hot baths once more,” Evaline said with a pointed look. “And you could hire footmen.”

“Ah, yes. Footmen. I suppose that it is time to reintroduce men into the household, but I think that any of the male persuasion who are hired must be mild-mannered enough not to frighten our delicate staff.”

Evaline huffed in humor. “Given their fragile dispositions, we shall need footmen with the temperament of lambs.”

“And the strength of dockworkers so that I may return to dressing in my own bedchambers.” Harriet sighed. “I shall summon Mr. Benton tomorrow. A lady’s maid and at least one suitably meek footman. I refuse to live like this any longer.”