It would have been even more reassuring if Harriet had dragged him *in*

Only if it had worked. You wouldn't want a cry of "Stop! I keep thinking about our decomposing seller!" at a vital moment.

I certainly hope they don't have sex on the Friday night. I doubt the House of Lords lavatories are set up for quickies. Though I do wonder how much expectation/obligation/"oh dear, s/he's going to take it as really significant" is playing out in the final chapters.