“I did not wish to spoil your courage,” he said, amusement dancing in his gaze. “Most ladies I know faint at the mere scent of whisky.”
She smiled despite herself. “Then you have not known many ladies worth your time, my lord.”
He took another slow sip, his eyes still on her over the rim of the bottle. “Perhaps not,” he said quietly.
He handed the decanter to her, and this time she took a more careful sip. “It is rather absurd, is it not? For a lady to be seen upon a swing sharing a drink with a gentleman—it would draw such censure, as though fine liquor and pleasant company were acts of moral ruin. Society delights in preaching virtue, yet it is ever eager to condemn the smallest display of joy. I understand the need for propriety at times, but heavens, there are moments when I find its demands utterly laughable.”
“What have you wanted to do that has been denied you?”
She lifted a startled gaze to his. “I… I am uncertain.”
“Why?”
Miss Winton was silent for a few beats, then said, “Should I speak frankly, my lord?”
Sebastian smiled. “I would expect nothing less, Miss Winton.”
“My mother died when I was fourteen. She was the fabric that held our family together. After she was gone, it fell to me to manage the household and care for my sisters. I had some vague notion of marriage—of having a home of my own—but it always felt like a dream too distant to touch. I never dared to picture it clearly, for it seemed a luxury I could ill afford.”
Her lips curved faintly, though her tone softened with wistfulness. “There were times I wished I had been born a man. How enviable it must be to ride through Hyde Park alone without reproach, to drink freely without whispers, to attend lectures at Oxford or travel abroad without a chaperone. A gentleman might climb mountains, build fortunes, even make ruinous mistakes, and yet society always forgives him. But a woman?” She gave a quiet, rueful laugh. “A single misstep, even something as innocent as laughing too loudly or sitting upon a swing after dusk, can stain her name forever.”
Sebastian’s mouth curved faintly. “If it comforts you, Miss Winton, most men squander the freedoms you envy. We drink too much, gamble too often, and ruin our fortunes as easily as our reputations. The difference is that we are always forgiven. You, however—” his voice dropped lower, thoughtful “—you would have built an empire with half the liberties we waste.”
She laughed softly, the sound low and almost shy. “You credit me with far too much intelligence, my lord. I cannot imagine building an empire.”
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “No? I imagine you’d start with a small kingdom—one built on order, good sense, and a rather formidable stare.”
Her lips curved. “Then I daresay you would not last a day within it. You do not seem the sort of man who enjoys rules.”
“On the contrary,” he murmured, his gaze dipping to her mouth, “I obey them… when they are worth obeying.”
CHAPTER 9
It felt like some inexplicable madness had taken hold of Sebastian. Every instinct urged him to draw the woman before him into his arms and vow that she would never again know fear or want—that he would see to her every need, every comfort, for as long as he drew breath. Sebastian almost lurched to his feet and walked away, but he mastered the impulse and only looked aside—from the kissable temptation of her mouth.
“Have you ever feared for your future, my lord?”
The quiet question pulled his gaze back to her.
“No,” he said slowly. “I have always been assured of my duties, my responsibilities, and my place in this world.”
Leaning against the swing’s rope, she tipped her face toward the night sky, a faint frown furrowing her brow.
“You worry for your future,” he observed.
Miss Winton stiffened, then glanced at him. “A part of me does. It has been rather wonderful working for you, for in these weeks the burden I once carried feels lighter. But I cannot trust in it. How long am I to hold this position? Am I to remain a housekeeper for the rest of my life, never daring to want the family I once dreamed of? Will I see Lizzy and Vi again? And ifI do, will they even wish to acknowledge me—when I am so far beneath their notice, a servant?”
Her voice trembled, though her chin lifted stubbornly. “These thoughts have haunted me of late… keeping me from sleep.”
He regarded her in silence for a long moment, his chest tightening with something perilously close to tenderness. “I have not known you long, Maryann,” he said quietly, “but I have never met another woman who leaves such an impression. You are lovely—and more than that, you are possessed of strength, kindness, and fortitude. Should your sisters ever turn from you, it would be their loss, not yours.”
Sebastian watched her from the corner of his eye, her laughter soft and genuine. It wrapped around him like warm silk, and he found himself unwilling to break its spell.
“You are of incredible talent in the art of flattery, my lord,” she said, smiling.
He couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped him. “All part of being a viscount. However, I assure you, all flattery directed to you is entirely sincere.”
The corners of her mouth lifted again, and he stored that smile away like something precious. She had no idea how seldom he encountered sincerity in London—or how refreshing her laughter sounded after years of hollow company.
