“I never suspected I would be.”
They watched each other for several silent beats before she began to worry at her lower lip as he was coming to expect she did when she toyed with a problem.
“Out with it.”
She dropped her arms, her hands going into tight fists. “I still do not see what any of this has to do with loving me.” Her face went red at her declaration, and she closed her eyes, holding up both of her hands. “That came out entirely not how I meant it. I would agree I am an affable person, but I do not expect everyone to love me. I simply struggle with why you’re so adamant about us maintaining separate lives so you can not fall in love with me.”
“I find love does nothing but encourage people to engage in irrational and dangerous behavior. I swore off the notion long ago.”
He’d stepped too close to her, and the scent of orchids toyed with him. He turned away, putting much-needed space between them, tugging at his cuffs as he did so.
She was quiet for longer than he expected, and he peered over his shoulder at her. She studied the carpet, her jaw working, and he knew she pondered what he’d said.
Finally, she faced him. “I can understand how you might draw such a conclusion. I, myself, often wonder why love leaves us open to so much heartache. But why would you commit your life to such emptiness?”
The fire snapped behind him, and the few candles that lit the room served only to create a bubble that contained only them. A feeling of security washed over him. He could say anything now, and she would listen to him. She may not understand, but she would listen. And for the first time in a very long time, he could lay down his burdens at someone else’s feet.
So he told her the truth.
“Because my father killed himself over his lover.”
Chapter 7
She didn’t know Sebastian that well, and yet she knew him better than anyone in the ton, including Dax. Knew his person more so than his past, and his revelation left her searching for words.
“I didn’t know.” The words came out hardly more than a whisper.
“No one does.”
This took her back even further.
“What do you mean, no one knows?”
He turned away from her toward the fire, and she saw he’d been drinking before she entered. An empty glass and decanter of dark liquor sat on a low table by the chair next to the fire. The tableau it conjured in her mind was a sad one: Sebastian at the fireside drinking alone on his wedding night.
Every time she thought she had condemned him to the boar society thought he was, she uncovered another layer of him that left her gasping.
She watched him now as he paced away from her.
“My mother found him after the fact. It was shortly after Christmas, so I was still in London at the time. I remember the red ribbons and bows festooned everywhere, the smell of holly and pine.” He gave a harsh laugh then. “It was a shock to be confronted with such gruesome loss after walking through such cheer.”
He studied the fire instead of facing her. She took a step closer to him, her feet soundless on the carpet.
“Sebastian.” She could speak only his name. The picture he painted was too stark and heavy with sadness. She couldn’t force him to continue if he shouldn’t wish to, but she could let him know she was listening.
“I told my mother to keep the servants from the room while I fetched the doctor. He was a good friend of my father’s, and I knew I could trust him to be discreet.” Finally, he turned only his head to send her a wry smile. “You surely know how malicious society can be when one of their own steps out of bounds.”
His words cut too close to the bone for her as she faced the husband who had been forced to wed her to avoid the same vindictive society. The same husband who had just told her he couldn’t love her.
Had she thought he would love her?
It had never crossed her mind, not consciously anyway. Her intent had been setting on marriage to avoid hurting Jo. But now, in the stillness of the night around them, now that the danger to Jo had passed, Louisa could explore her deeper intentions, and if she were brave enough, she could admit she’d always been attracted to Sebastian.
Love?
Maybe not that exactly, but that ethereal pull that draws a person eventually to love? That was what she had felt for Sebastian. Possibilities. But there were no possibilities now.
It shouldn’t matter. Jo was safe, and that was the most important thing.
“I do,” she finally said, licking her dry lips.
“My father was buried before anyone could ask questions. I carefully placed the idea that he died of apoplexy and that the family wished for privacy. There’s nothing society enjoys more than heartbreak, and a father and husband taken too young from something out of one’s control was just what they wanted.”
“Is that why you withdrew from society?” She wasn’t sure if it was overstepping her bounds to ask such a question. After all, he had not seemed pleased with discussing this in the least, and she should have been satisfied that he had told her what he had.
But she couldn’t stop herself, not when she saw someone hurting, and she itched to fix it.
The thought startled her. It had never occurred to her that Sebastian might need her. That she may be able to make his life…better than before he’d met her. Perhaps she could heal the wounds his mother had inflicted on the young boy, tamper the remorse and anger of his father’s death. Maybe she could bring him back into the light.
As she studied the taut muscles under the shoulders of his jacket, the way his hands clenched into tight fists, it seemed an impossible feat. But didn’t Louisa excel at resolving precisely such problems?
He seemed to consider his answer before he said, “It was the catalyst for the decision I had already made. I had been in society several years by that point, and I found I did not like it in the least. Why expend one’s energy on such frivolity and nonsense?”
She wanted to ask him about that, but she wouldn’t be distracted from the matter at hand. Namely, why her husband couldn’t love her.
Again, not that she wanted him to. It was more about having the possibility of such a thing. There hadn’t been a possibility at all, and now it was over before it had even begun.
And perhaps a few more kisses. One or two caresses wouldn’t be a burden.
She gave herself a mental shake. Now was not the time for that.
“Do you know…” she let the question trail off as she took another tentative step forward.
“Who was my father’s lover?” His voice was hard as he finished the question she couldn’t. He shook his head. “I never bothered to search her out. What would have been the point?”
“It could explain why your father was desperate enough to take his own life. An act such as that is not taken lightly, I imagine. To take one’s own life…there cannot be another choice in the person’s mind, and they choose the most awful one because they think it’s all they have left to them. Your father must have been terrified.”
His jaw relaxed at her words. “I suppose he might have been.”
She had reached the chair by the fire, and she placed her hands along the top of it. “How did he do it?”
“He used one of the dueling pistols his father had given him. Ironic that he should use it to take his own life rather than the life of another.”
“I see nothing ironic about the affair.”
He moved his eyes away from her and studied the fire for several beats.
“No, I suppose there isn’t.” His voice was gravelly when he finally spoke the words.
They fell silent then, and she let the crackle of the fire fill the space mostly because she didn’t know what to say next. How was she to speak to him about love?
“I should have told you,” he said after a while, and she looked up at his words.
He had turned away from the fire now, and his eyes were piercing as they focused on her. A shiver passed down her arms at the int
ensity of his gaze, but she shook it off. Hadn’t he just told her they were to lead separate lives?
The horrid thought struck her then that she would need to seek a lover herself if she would wish for any of…the more delicate things that usually came between husband and wife. She didn’t know precisely what those were, but Sebastian had shown her enough, so she knew there was more to be had.
It just wouldn’t be with Sebastian.
The thought had her chest squeezing, and she stepped back, swallowing.
“It’s no worry,” she said, waving off his concern. “As you said, ours is not a customary marriage, and I am sure there will be much for us to figure out.”
His fingers flexed against his leg, and her eyes caught on the movement. It was safer to look there than to return his dark gaze.
“Can I ask you one more question perhaps?” Her courage was quickly fleeting; if she didn’t ask now she wouldn’t. He gave only a nod, and she continued. “Do you not believe in love because of what happened to your father or do you not wish it for yourself?”
His laugh was harsh and critical. “I have seen the evidence of love and what it does to those who indulge in it.” He stepped closer to her, lowering his head to capture her gaze as his voice grew earnest. “I assure you I want nothing to do with such carelessness. Love makes sound people do stupid things, and I will not fall victim to it.”
The question she most wanted to ask was on the very tip of her tongue. She need only push it out. Her heart raced at the thought, but her tongue remained still, her mouth slightly parted as she stared at the shadows of her husband’s face.
If he didn’t believe in love, then why had he done what he did that night on the terrace? Why had he shown her passion and desire only to rob her of it for the rest of her life?
How could he be so cruel?
But that was just it. He wasn’t being cruel. He was treating her the way she had treated him. She had ruined his life that night in the Lumberton drawing room. He might think he had a choice to not offer marriage, but she knew differently. Sebastian was a man of honor, and she left him no way out. Now she realized what a death sentence for him it was.
She shivered at the realization, rubbed her hands along her arms as if to warm them even as the heat of the fire scorched her face.
“Surely, you’ve seen what good can come from love. Eliza and Dax—”
“Are a rare exception.” His tone was steely, and she shut her mouth on the rest of her words.
Well, that was it then. Her future loomed before her, empty and loveless. Had she really expected anything else? She wasn’t sure. She’d never thought about it. She’d always believed once Jo was happy and wed, she’d worry about it then. But that wasn’t what happened, and she’d never gotten the chance to worry over it.
The silence stretched awkwardly now, and she felt the tendrils of guilt ease into the tension.
She gestured to the connecting door, already backing away. “I do apologize…again…for my outburst earlier. I had thought—” She gave a shrug, embarrassment racing up her neck in a hot flash. “I had thought—” But again the words got stuck. She laughed to ease the moment, but he hadn’t moved in the least from where he hovered across the room. He only watched her retreat, the space between them growing wider, impassable.
She abandoned what she’d been about to say. There was no point in it. Sebastian was determined not to fall in love, and she was rather convinced he couldn’t be dissuaded. Sometimes people had to choose things for themselves if they were ever to change, and Sebastian was clearly a person who did not seem to appreciate change.
Her head suddenly pounded as though all the tension of the day struck her once, and this was the final blow. She raised a weak hand as if to bid him good night, and she turned to open the door behind her. Escape seemed the only desirable thing then. Escape and darkness and sleep.
Except she paused with her hand on the doorknob, unable to move.
She shouldn’t turn around. She should go through the door and give the man some peace. But that was just not in her nature. There was a missing piece to Sebastian’s story, and she knew she wouldn’t rest until she found out the whole truth.
She looked back at him. The room was dark except for the fire and a few stray candles, and she could see very little of his face from here. But she could feel how rigid he was, sense how tightly he was holding himself.
She asked the question anyway.
“How did you know your father killed himself over his lover?”
“My mother told me.”
The words whispered their way across the room to her, and the tick of suspicion she’d held solidified itself in her belly. Maybe she was predisposed to distrusting the woman, but something about that didn’t seem right. Louisa pictured her sister, raw and torn from discovering her husband’s infidelity, and the tickle of suspicion grew stronger.
“Apparently my father had had a lover for years. They had agreed to be discreet about it. You know how those things are in society marriages. But when my father’s lover broke it off, he was devastated, my mother said. She said she’d never seen him that way. It was like he was someone else entirely.”
She nodded to let him know she’d heard, but she was too consumed by her own suspicions to respond. She merely raised a hand in farewell and slipped through the door, closing it softly behind her.
She stared at that door for several long minutes. The panel was thick enough that she didn’t hear Sebastian moving on the other side. She wondered if he’d taken up his drink, resumed his seat in one of those chairs by the fire, ruminated on the grief of his past.
But even while she pictured it, her mind raced with all that he had just told her. In the end, she collapsed on the bed still in her dressing gown, and when sleep came, it was drugging and consumed her whole.
* * *
“You’re distracted today.”
Sebastian stopped rolling the tip of his pen between his fingers even as his eyes remained riveted to it.
“Marriage sitting well with you?” Dax gave a short laugh. “I can only imagine it must be.”
It was only a few days later, and Sebastian found himself sequestered in Dax’s study to go over the agriculture bill. They still needed more voting members on their side, and the vote was only weeks away. Dax had suggested the strategy session to determine who seemed like a good prospect to target in the following weeks to garner support.
Sebastian had welcomed the distraction from his own quagmire, enjoying the muffled sounds of the Ashbourne home with their quiet hints of domesticity. In Dax’s study, his own problems were far away and easily ignored.
So why then was he twirling his pen like a child?
He set down the instrument entirely and scrubbed his face over his hands.
“I find marriage requires a certain bit of…adjustment.” That seemed like the safest word to say just then.
Dax’s laugh was stronger this time. “It does take a certain amount of getting used to. Is Louisa well?”
Louisa was damn well perfect.
Since their wedding night, he’d scarcely seen her. Only at meals and passing in the corridor, and then she’d been unusually silent. It wasn’t that she was gloomy or taciturn. On the contrary, she readily answered his attempts at conversation and bestowed upon him her usual smile whenever the occasion arose. It was more that he felt her misery. She no longer offered up a topic of conversation, never initiated a question.
It was as if she were doing her best to be the perfect duchess.
Just as she had said she would.
She was demure and polite, acquiescent and prepared. She’d seen to the menus and the shopping, instructing Cook on what to prepare and the housekeeper on what was to be stocked. He’d heard some nonsense about draperies and rugs and linens. Louisa had only offered up a topic once, and it was to ask him for the ledgers regarding the house accounts. He’d happily handed them over to her, and she’d thanked him. Politely.
&
nbsp; The entire discourse had taken all of five minutes, and she’d turned away from him again.
He could hardly blame her. He’d given her no choice in the matter. He hadn’t told her it would be a loveless marriage when she’d had time to back out, but then, he knew she hadn’t thought she could escape their marriage. She had to protect her sister no matter the consequence to herself.
He always pictured her as she had been that night, fiery and alive in her virginal white dressing gown, the outlines of her legs visible through the light fabric.
God, he’d wanted her.
He still wanted her.
So he was spending afternoons at Ashbourne House hoping to avoid her entirely.
“Louisa is well.”
Dax set his pen down now. They’d commandeered a table in the study to use for their papers and correspondence, and afternoon light speckled the surface with sunshine. Dax leaned back in his chair, his expression lost to shadow as he moved away from the sun.
“Are you ever going to tell me what really happened? How it is that you find yourself married to my wife’s sister?”
“Louisa agreed to it.” He spoke the words dryly, even as his stomach clenched.
She hadn’t told him her secret that night. That was what haunted him now. He had told her everything about this father, things he’d never spoken of before even to Dax. Yet she had remained close-lipped. He had thought perhaps she would open up to him after that night, tell him why it was she was so affected by those women at their wedding breakfast.
Only she’d closed herself off since then.
He could hardly find fault with that.
Sebastian stood and went to the teacart that had been brought in nearly a half hour earlier by a maid. He found the tea lukewarm, but he didn’t care. He carelessly poured himself a cup and rather than drink, stared into it.
“What do you know of the Darby mother?”
He hadn’t meant to ask the question, but once it was out, he felt some kind of relief as if he’d opened a valve.
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