“This is my first time appearing in society assomeone,” she murmured. “I wish my mother was alive to see me now.”
He squeezed her hand. “She would have been proud of you.”
“I know she made some mistakes—being a gentleman’s mistress is not a choice many women make, perhaps. But she was a wonderful, very caring woman. She just fell in love with the wrong gentleman, and we can’t help who we love, can we?”
She’d thought him to be staring at her, but when she glanced up at him, he was looking out the window. Dusk had fallen, the trees blooming from the gloom, fresh with new spring growth.
“Can we not help who we love?” he asked gravely.
“I think when the heart wants something, it takes it. Even if it makes you miserable after.” She thought of her mother. She never once mentioned the man she had fallen in love with, either out of respect or because he had betrayed her on such a grand scale.
Aurelia could never imagine falling in love with someone so deeply that she would risk everything to be with him—not theway her mother had done. If her uncle hadn’t lived in the city, where would her mother have gone, abandoned and alone?
She had chosen the object of her love poorly. But the heart wanted what it wanted.
“Do you think he knows I exist?' she asked abruptly into the darkness. Sebastian looked at her now. “My father. Do you think he knows about me and just... doesn’t care?”
His arms tightened around her. “If he knows and stayed silent, he is a coward and a fool. If he doesn’t know...” His voice went hard. “Your mother protected him. Even after he abandoned her. That’s not love, Aurelia. That’s something else.”
Sebastian felt as though his skin was itching all over when they finally arrived at the small music hall where the recital was to take place. It had been such a long time since he had come to London in order to be seen. The lastofficialtime had been the masquerade, but then he had known no one would recognize him.
He handed Aurelia down from the carriage.
Initially, marrying her had seemed an excellent idea. She needed a home, and he needed an unexacting, grateful wife. But now, some part of him was painfully aware of her low birth. She brought scandal with her, inevitably.
As did he.
In that sense, they were the worst kind of pairing, destined to bring each other down.
She tucked her hand in his arm, and he smiled at the doorman who ushered them inside. The scent of perfume and old wood greeted them. The building was an old one, several hundred years at least, with beams stretching over the ceiling and thick stone walls. Seating had been laid out for the guests, and he guided Aurelia to a chair, nodding at faces as he passed them.
Though it had been some time since he had last been an active member of theton, he still recognized plenty of people. There was the Duchess of Fenwick, staring at them both with her jaw hanging wide.
Of course.
No doubt seeing Aurelia on his arm was a surprise.
When Aurelia saw the duchess, she jerked, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I don’t suppose I ever mentioned…” she began with forced calm, looking at the stage—currently devoid of any musicians. “But the Duchess of Fenwick dismissed me just before your Mr. Arnold found me. Really, it was very providential.”
Sebastian leaned closer, feeling eyes on them. “She dismissed you?”
“She disliked that her nephew attempted to take advantage of me, and I refused his advances.”
The words hit him like a shot.
For a moment, he didn’t move. Couldn’t
Her nephew, theEarl of Redwood. Sebastian had been around him infrequently, but he knew the man was a licentious drunkard, free with his hands and no doubt believing he was entitled to the attention of young, beautiful women so long as they were not of his rank.
Then pure rage surged through him, sudden and white-hot.Redwood. Had that bastard touched her? Tried to take something she hadn’t offered—and blamed her for denying him? If Sebastian could’ve left the room that instant, he would have hunted Redwood down and planted a barrel against his smug face.
How dare he lay a hand on her.
How dare he presume she would ever welcome it.
And worst of all—how dare he make her afraid.
He felt his blood boil.
