‘And have your brother call me out for dishonouring his sister?’ he said.
‘Some would see your current actions as a long-delayed revenge.’
The idea seemed to shock him, as if he had seriously never considered what seemed obvious to her. When he spoke, there was a strange quality to the words, as if he had thrown away all the glib good humour to reveal a different speaker hiding underneath. ‘Is there nothing I can say to you that will make you believe me?’
‘That you are seriously offering marriage?’ She stared back at him, equally pensive. ‘I cannot think of anything.’
They stood together in silence for a moment, and she could not help wishing that she had not spoken. But it had been necessary to be direct, to make him understand the way things were. Perhaps her nursing had given him the wrong impression. She did not want to be part of some game he was playing with Julian, nor was she the sort who could deny all expectations placed upon her and refuse the future her family wanted for her.
She was beginning to worry that she would have to refuse him another time, when his manner changed. Like a man donning a coat to protect against chilly weather, the seriousness she had seen was covered over with suave smiles and the relaxed postureof a man who did not care what anyone thought of him, much less some country girl he’d met on the street. ‘Well then,’ he said on an exhaled breath. ‘If that is the way it is to be, I shall not bother you further.’ He turned away, and then back. ‘Not today, at least.Au revoir, Miss Fisk.’
‘Goodbye, Your Grace,’ she said, as he walked away down the street.
Chapter Seven
As Sebastian walked away, it took all his strength not to turn back. What good would that do, other than to give him one final glimpse of her? He had been refused before and was well acquainted with the process. One licked one’s wounds. Drank too much. Wrote a bit of maudlin poetry. Threw it in the fire. And found another woman.
But he had been so sure this time that there had been something more between them. She had devoted a week of her life to caring for him. She had loved him then in a way he did not understand. It was beyond the physical, two souls in communion. The only thing he could compare it to was the bond he’d had with his grandmother, who had loved him unconditionally.
But it was different than that.
Perhaps he did not know enough about love to find it for himself. But he suspected she did, and he had wanted her to teach him. About love, and perhaps about insects, as well.
He smiled. She had opened herself to him, just for a moment. If he wanted to win her, he needed to do the same.
He was not used to being vulnerable, especially not to a woman. But this one had already seen him at his weakest. Then, she’d shown him nothing but kindness. That, and a hint of the same dry wit she was showing him now. It was delightful, just as it had been a year ago. He wanted her now, just as he had then.
She might want him, but she did not believe in him. She did not trust him. Probably because he’d given her no reason to. He had been so eager to outpace her other suitors that he had charged ahead with his plans for their future and given no thought to what she might want from him or any other man. Seduction was a dance. But so was courtship and the steps were more elaborate and unfamiliar to him.
He must hope that he had not ruined it all by today’s actions. If he could not have her love? Perhaps her friendship would be enough to sustain him. He would not even have that if she was convinced that his every action was an attempt to spite Septon or dishonour her.
A thought occurred to him and he darted into the next shop he passed and scanned the glass cases for only a moment before signaling the shopkeeper and explaining what he needed, sketching a design on a scrap of paper the man produced.
What he wanted was simple, nothing more a token of apology. The man said that because of the unique nature of the piece and his desire for it to be finished quickly, it would be expensive. Sebastian assured him that the money did not matter. He could double the price if it could be done today.
The jeweler was hesitant. But it took only a moment for greed to win out over irritation, and he promised that the job would be ready by evening, and delivered to the Duke’s townhouse, should that be convenient.
It was. Very much so. And it left Sebastian more than enough time to decide how best to present it, that he might wipe away the mess he had made of the morning. Then, perhaps she would allow him to begin again.
Later that evening, Cassie joined Julian and Portia at the dinner table, relieved to have a night without any planned activity.After what had happened on Bond Street, she did not think she could bear to go through the social niceties as if nothing momentous had happened.
‘Did you have a restful day?’ Portia asked as the soup was served.
‘I took a nap, and then went shopping,’ she replied, quickly adding, ‘I took Bessie as a chaperone.’ Then, she waited nervously for someone to announce that she had been spotted speaking with the forbidden Duke of Westbridge.
‘Did you purchase anything interesting?’ Portia said.
‘I was browsing. Nothing more.’ She took a spoonful of lobster bisque. ‘The bookstore had several new titles.’
‘I have an account there,’ Julian said. ‘Feel free to make use of it.’
The conversation turned to popular books with no further comment made about her leaving the house.
When dinner ended, they retired to the sitting room for an equally uneventful evening of patience and needlework. It acted as a balm to her frayed nerves and was one more proof that she had been right to refuse the Duke. She could not imagine him sitting comfortably for an evening in a room where nothing was happening. They were too different in temperament to make a good match.
Not that he had been serious. He was up to something, she was sure. He could not really mean to choose a wife based on one year-old kiss. There must be a hundred woman he knew that well. Why her?
And had she really told him that she fed ants? The fact that he’d proposed after that announcement was one more proof that he was only joking. Or perhaps it was an act of pity, for he must have thought her mad.
