Page 24
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 cast her eye about 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 low 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, it had been necessary 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 water up two flights of stairs. 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 mocks 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 at 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 just not the done thing.
Harriet turned her attention to the clothing rack, which sagged under a small selection of gowns in 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 to 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 weak 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 considerable assets?”
