“Well, I believe we can all now testify to the strength and quality of the wine.” Ivy spoke in a carrying voice, clapping her hands together as she did so. She addressed the staff arranged along the walls. “Can we ensure all our guests have plenty to eat and drink? Miss Ivy’s is for pleasure, after all.”
The staff dispersed toward where the wine was kept, and soon every patron’s glass was filled to the brim, most of them chuckling about the inebriated lord and his attempts to start an argument. A few spoke to one another in low voices, and Sebastian kept his eye on them. He knew full well how quickly public opinion could leap over to another side. He’d seen it often enough, even if he hadn’t been the recipient of it.
But thus far it was just a few murmurs. Something they’d have to be aware of.
Situation defused, Sebastian thought with satisfaction. And he didn’t need to punch anyone. Or have Nash punch anyone. Even though Nash likely regretted that.
“Thank you, Sebastian.” Ivy spoke in a low tone, her eyes constantly assessing the room and the crowd. Did she never stop working?
Oh yes, she did. When she was kissing him. So if he were to kiss her again, he would be doing a service, ensuring she wasn’t always thinking about the club. About her duties, what she perceived as her responsibilities toward her sister.
And he wouldn’t be thinking about anything either.
“I used to take things for granted. As he did,” Sebastian replied. “Until one day the things weren’t there.” He had avoided thinking about his situation by throwing himself completely into his new job. But it crept up, and he couldn’t keep himself from feeling the anger stirring. So much anger, anger he would have to deal with at some point.
“And now you have to—?”
“Take things as I find them. Find things I want to take.”
He wanted to take her. Not only because he seemed to be ludicrously intrigued with her, this intelligent business owner and lively companion, but because taking her would push the anger away in favor of more passionate feelings.
Using sex as avoidance.
When Ivy had ever thought about what a gentleman would have to do to entice her into a romantic situation, she had never thought of “speak in a reasonable and logical manner.” And yet here she was. She’d been unable to look away from him while he was dealing with the truculent lord. His measured tone, his levelheaded demeanor, his consideration—all of that made her insides melt.
She had been concerned he would start a fight, because that is what proud gentlemen did.
But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d spoken to Lord Linehan as though the other gentleman was someone who could be reasoned with, who was intelligent enough to perceive what he was saying.
To put it more bluntly, she wanted to kiss him at this very moment. Even though they were in the main room of the club, with all of her staff around, and her sister—who would likely cheer if she acted on her desires.
Find things I want to take.
She knew what he was referring to, of course. She wasn’t that unaware of her effect on him. She’d felt it, literally.
“What are you thinking about?” His low voice interrupted her thoughts. Although no, they hadn’t—because he’d asked what she was thinking about, and he knew damn well what she was thinking about.
“What do you think?” she replied, slowly lifting her gaze to meet his. He drew in a deep breath, his eyes going to her mouth.
They were standing near one another, not even touching, and it felt as though he had his hands all over her.
He leaned to whisper in her ear. Still not touching her, though his breath tickled her skin. “I think I want this evening to end. I think I want to take what I can find. Perhaps in your bedroom.”
“Oh,” she gasped, the words sliding down her spine like a caress.
Was she thinking about doing that?
Absolutely she was. After all, she had no expectations. This wasn’t going to be a permanent thing anyway. They both knew that.
She was already ruined, at least in the eyes of Society. And she didn’t give a tinker’s damn about anybody’s opinion of her, not anymore.
“Sebastian.” Octavia spoke sharply, making both of them jump. She had something in her hand, which she held out to him. “This came for you just now.”
He glanced briefly at Ivy, then took the item, which appeared to be an envelope. Ivy stepped away to give him privacy, although part of her wanted to stay and read over his shoulder. But what if it was a love letter? What if one of his past ladies wanted to be current? Would she tolerate that? How could she say no if that was the case? They had no hold on one another. For that matter, she could go out and find an additional lover.
Only the thought of that made her chuckle, since the idea of even the one was daunting enough. How would she possibly juggle two?
She’d have to ask his advice: How can I maintain a business while also maintaining romantic interludes with two gentlemen?
“I have to go,” he said, stuffing the letter back in the envelope. Ivy’s heart sank. Another lady, then. “It’s my sister, she needs me.”
Ivy’s relief warred with her concern that something serious had happened to his sister.
“Nothing terrible, I hope,” Octavia said, asking Ivy’s question.
He shook his head. “No, it’s just—it’s just something to do with the family.” His expression was set, determined, and Ivy could see the vestiges of his former ducal self. Not that he hadn’t looked like that in the club, but it was clear now that he had been consciously trying to tamp down his arrogance.
Albeit not always very well.
She had to admit that his arrogant aristocrat look was quite appealing, in a “tell me what scandalous things to do to you” kind of way.
Unfortunately he had to go take that demeanor elsewhere.
“I’ll be back when I can,” he said. He didn’t wait to say anything to her, to acknowledge that there was something more here than employer and employee.
Nor should he, a voice reminded Ivy. Remember? This is a game you two have decided to play. And like a game, it isn’t serious. He doesn’t need to treat you as anything more than what you are—his employer whom he also kisses on occasion.
Men did it all the time, so could she.
“Please send our best to your sister,” Ivy said.
“I’ll take care of Byron and Keats,” Octavia added.
“Thank you,” he replied, speaking to Octavia. Barely looking at Ivy.
Stop noticing that. This is just showing you what you already know to be true.
She and Octavia watched him leave the club, stopping to say something to Samuel, and then to Henry, and then out the door.
“I wonder what that is about,” Octavia mused. “Maybe they’ve discovered it’s all a mistake, and he’s still a duke.”
Ivy held her breath for a moment as Octavia’s words resonated through her. That would be a wonderful thing for him. Although it would foreclose on her short career as a sexual adventuress. Still, a small price to pay for his returning to the life she knew he must love. Who wouldn’t?
Power, prestige, money, lands, parties.
All of it, to a lesser degree, had been within her grasp. Before her father gambled with fate. Hers, specifically.
Did she miss it?
She hadn’t thought too much about that before. She’d assumed she had missed it, but when she considered it, she realized she didn’t. Not in the way that would impel her to try to return.
Which meant that if Octavia was correct, he and Ivy would not meet again, beyond a perfunctory goodbye. There was no place in a duke’s life for the scandalous owner of a gambling club.
And she would be fine with that. She would.
“No,” Sebastian said, waving away the hansom that had slowed near him. He’d get there faster in a cab, but he didn’t want to be cooped up inside. It was odd. Now that he’d been on his own—for what, a week? two?—he treasured his freedom of movement.
A duke was free to do whatever he liked, of course, but there were always people around, trying to help, or asking questions, or requiring assistance of some sort.
Being a regular person, a mere illegitimate son, meant that he was answerable to no one except his employer.
Ana Maria’s note hadn’t said much, just that he should come straight away and that nobody was in danger. So why was she sending him a note this late in the evening?
He had deliberately avoided thinking about her and Thaddeus since he’d come to Miss Ivy’s. Not difficult, since the work was so engrossing. But now that he was allowing himself to, the emotions were roiling within him, making him aware he hadn’t truly dealt with anything yet. Just smothered it under a pile of work and desire.
The duke’s town house wasn’t very far from Miss Ivy’s, and he was there before he truly wanted to be—then again, the trip could have taken years, and he would have thought the same.
The door opened as he walked up the steps, making it obvious they’d been anticipating his arrival.
Fletchfield greeted him at the entrance. “Lady Ana Maria is waiting for you in the library,” he said. He gestured toward it as though Sebastian would have forgotten, and Seb had to suppress his annoyance. He hadn’t been gone that long.
He strode toward the library, flinging the door open and stopping when he saw both Ana Maria and Thaddeus. Both of whom looked guilty.
“What’s going on?” he asked, glancing between the two of them.
Ana Maria rushed forward, her dark eyes glistening. She was always prone to tearing up, but that didn’t explain why Sebastian felt a reciprocal prickle in his eyes.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said, clasping him in a tight hug as she buried her head on his chest. He looked over her head at Thaddeus, who appeared to be his usual impenetrable self, albeit not in uniform, as he usually was.
Of course. He’d had to resign his captaincy to take over as the duke.
He wore clothing that Sebastian might have chosen himself for an evening at home—an elegantly tailored suit, crisp linen, and polished boots.
Sebastian saw the glint of his father’s signet ring on Thaddeus’s finger.
“What’s going on?” he repeated, directing his question at Thad.
Ana Maria released him, dabbing at her eyes and going to sit on the sofa. Thaddeus went and sat behind the desk—previously Sebastian’s desk—and gestured for Sebastian to sit also.
It made sense that it would ache, to be here and not belong, but that didn’t lessen the sting. He didn’t want to sit, he didn’t want to be here at all.
This was why he had stayed away. It was painful to be in a place where he wasn’t who he’d thought he was. That was why reinventing himself at Miss Ivy’s suited him.
Not to mention the lady herself.
“I asked your sister to send the note. So if you want to blame anyone, you can blame me.”
“But I agreed,” Ana Maria rushed to add. “And Thad wanted to wait until tomorrow, but once I heard he wanted to speak to you, I knew I couldn’t wait.”
“You haven’t said what it is.” Sebastian spoke in a curt voice.
“I need your help,” Thaddeus said, in a tone that didn’t sound at all like Thad. Mostly because him asking for help was like Sebastian wanting advice on how to seduce women—it didn’t happen, and what’s more, it wasn’t necessary.
“He does,” Ana Maria echoed. “And I do, too.”
Like Thad, Ana Maria was garbed for an evening at home, albeit in far more lively colors than the monochrome Thaddeus. Her gown was made of blue patterned silk, the fabric shot through with gold thread that created a shimmering effect. He didn’t think she was sweeping floors in that outfit, thank goodness.
“What kind of help?” Sebastian couldn’t contain his skeptical tone. Because it was late at night, and he didn’t think Thaddeus needed the kind of help Sebastian was likely to offer at such an hour.
“It’s your valet and your secretary. They’re arguing over who will prepare me for whatever party they’ve said I have to go to.” Sebastian wanted to laugh at Thaddeus’s clear tone of disgust. And at what an obvious ploy it was. “Both of them believe they are the proper person. But that’s not even the half of it.” Thaddeus ran a hand through his hair in clear frustration. “I don’t know how you do it—did it.” He gesticulated at the desk, which was strewn with papers. “There’s always something to be done.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want to do it.” Thaddeus looked at Sebastian, who was still standing. “For God’s sake, sit down.” He sounded more like his usual self when he was ordering Sebastian to do something.
Sebastian sat, relieved Thaddeus hadn’t changed that much.
He regarded the two of them for a moment as he crossed his legs. “Tell Hodgkins and Melmsford that Ana Maria will be taking care of it from now on. That way, neither man loses face.” He exhaled. “As for the rest of it? You don’t want to do it. How is that my problem?” He paused. “I don’t wish to be cruel, but this isn’t my life anymore.”
He hadn’t needed to hurry over here just to resolve a pride squabble between servants. But he supposed he wouldn’t point that out to either one of them.
“Yes, it is.” Ana Maria spoke in a passionate tone, leaning forward in her seat. “You belong here, Seb. Fixing the issue between the valet and the secretary so quickly proves it. You belong here as much as Thad and I do.”
Sebastian was opening his mouth to reply when Thaddeus spoke.
“It doesn’t matter who has the title. We’re family.”
Sebastian’s words froze in his throat. We’re family. They were, and yet he didn’t know if he could be here. Not just because he was too proud to return to a place where he wasn’t the same person anymore—he wished that weren’t true at all, but he had to admit it was, partially—but because he didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be somewhere where he had a purpose, one that was his alone.
He didn’t want to end up like his mother, desperately clinging to a situation because it was more comfortable than the alternative.
“I’m not as good at this as you are, Sebastian.” Thaddeus shook his head in disgust as he regarded his desk.
“He has been wonderful,” Ana Maria retorted.
Sebastian allowed a half smile to curl onto his lips. “I thought I could never live up to the responsibilities either, at first. Give yourself time, Thad. It took me at least a month before I was comfortable. It’s only been two weeks.”
“Two weeks without you in the house.” Ana Maria kept her gaze locked on him. “We want you back here. We miss you. And you could—”
She hadn’t even finished speaking before Sebastian was shaking his head. “No, you don’t want me back. I know you miss me, but if I return things will be as they were, only not—I’m not the duke. I’m Mr. de Silva, the illegitimate son of the late Duke of Hasford, God rest his malleable soul.” Images of her, of Octavia, of Mac, even of Samuel and Henry, filled his brain. They needed him. Or, more accurately, he needed them.
“I don’t want to be here, Sebastian. I don’t want to take care of all of this.”
“And you said you’d help with my debut,” Ana Maria added.
Sebastian frowned. “All I’d do if I return is drag you down. You deserve to enter Society with as little scandal as possible. It’s already going to be awkward, what with the change in circumstances. But if I’m there, everyone will be talking about me.”
“I’d be fine with that, honestly,” Ana Maria replied. She grinned. “I like talking about you.” She tilted her head back as she continued. “How much trouble you like to get into, that you used to drool in your sleep, your hatred of tea.”
It would be amusing if he weren’t so uncomfortable being here.
“You can’t hide from who you are, Ana Maria.” She straightened in surprise. At his sharp tone? “I am not the duke. Thad is. You are the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Hasford, and you d
eserve the chance to be seen for who you are. And you are wonderful,” he added more softly. “I can’t hide from who I am either. And who I am, at the moment, is the employee of a gambling house.” And I’m pretty good at it, too.
He hadn’t realized just how proud he was of his work until now. He’d been so intent on forgetting everything that came before, concentrating only on the work at hand, that he hadn’t reflected on what he was learning. Who he was becoming.
And that he had goals that extended beyond his time at the club.
“There’s no way I can persuade you to come back?” Thad rose from his chair, clasping his hands behind his back as if he were at military attention. “If there’s anything I can do to make you reconsider, I’ll do it.”
Sebastian took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t know for how long I’ll need to be away.” He shrugged. “Come to me in a few months, perhaps? Maybe with another idea for how this could work?”
Thaddeus leaned back in his chair. “I will do that.” It was a promise. “But you have to give us your word you will give me a fair hearing. When I come to you.”
“And you have to visit at least once a week. I miss you so much, Sebby.”
Ana Maria’s voice trembled, and Sebastian felt his chest tighten in response. He wasn’t certain he deserved Ana Maria’s love—he wasn’t certain anyone did, honestly—but he wouldn’t deny her request.
“I will. Two days from now.” Tomorrow there would be things to discuss about the Masked Evening and planning to be done for the next event.
“I’ll expect you,” she said with a smile.
Sebastian rose, not wanting to be in the house for a moment longer than he had to. Eventually he could do it, but not now—not until he knew who he was, not just who he was not. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “For your care. I wish we could be as we were, but that’s just not possible. But we might end up being better.”
Ana Maria and Thaddeus both looked startled, and he wondered if he had ever said anything this profound before. Not that it was that profound, not compared with people who regularly declaimed very important things, but his previous interactions with them had never touched on anything close to that—it was unspoken, who they were. It was known. And now it wasn’t any longer.
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