That Delilah would never come to him.
That he hadn’t done enough to woo and win her.
Archie took the short flight of steps in two and clapped Sebastian on the back in greeting. “Why the long face, my friend?”
Sebastian willed his usual sardonic smile onto his mouth. That was how to handle Archie. “I’m fairly certain it’s its usual length.”
Archie laughed and gave him another slap on the back, and the night stretched endless before Sebastian. He didn’t have it in him to make jolly with Archie, exchange witticisms with Juliet—who was regarding him even more closely than usual—or even stand beside Ripon and growl his way through the long hours.
Rory stepped forward. “Come on, let’s see if anything of interest is happening in the card room.” He was regarding Sebastian in a particular way. Rory was like that—deceptively perceptive.
Sebastian shrugged in assent. As the men separated from the ladies, he couldn’t help asking. “Won’t your wife want to dance or some such?”
“Oh, you know Juliet,” said Rory. “She’d much prefer to stand against a wall and watch the goings-on. It’s best to leave her to it.”
Inside the card room, Sebastian settled at the first table they came to.Macao.Probably not the ideal card game to involve himself with, as he was in no mood for bluffing. He placed his markers on crimson felt and was dealt in.
Round after round, he lost, annoying Archie no end, who leaned over and murmured, “You know you’re allowed to cheat to win at this one, old chap.”
Sebastian cared not.
A server asked if he would like a brandy. He refused. Spirits and a foul mood made for poor bedfellows.
After only a few more rounds of cards, the server reappeared, silver tray extended. Sebastian was again about to refuse it when a spray of blue caught his eye. Upon the tray lay not a tumbler of brandy, but a flower. A cornflower…
Awildflower.
His head whipped around, and he gave the room a quick scan, half rising to gain a clear view.
No sign of her.
He let his cards fall onto the felt, where they landed face up. A collective groan sounded around the table. He’d ruined the hand. What did he care?
He’d just received a wildflower.
A tentative, fragile feeling took wing inside him.
“All well with you?” asked Rory, clearly annoyed. Even his patience had its limits.
“I, erm,” said Sebastian, “require the bog.”
All eyebrows to a one lifted toward the ceiling.
Well, not Ripon’s. He snorted.
“Thebog?” asked Archie.
Generally speaking, dukes didn’t refer to the necessary room as the bog.
Sebastian supposed summer wasn’t over quite yet—in more ways than one. In for a penny, in for a pound… He shot to his feet. “Immediately,” he tossed over his shoulder, his feet already on the move.
He caught up with the server and snatched the cornflower off the tray. “Who gave this to you?” he asked, trying not to sound too commanding. After all, this man was in his employ.
“A scullery, Your Grace.”
Sebastian stepped outside the room and glanced both ways down the corridor. Though scattered with several lords and ladies—some passing through, others paired off for private conversation—Sebastian immediately saw Delilah wasn’t one of them. But he did spot something on the marble floor ten or so feet away.
A yellow tansy.
