Sebastian tilted his head, just slightly. “You kidnapped Miss Madeleine. Took her to a chapel under false pretenses. Misled her mother. That’s not a misunderstanding. That’s a crime.”
Paisley paled but lifted his chin. “I was doing what was expected.Everyone knew she was meant to marry well.”
“She was never meant for you,” Sebastian said softly. And that made it more brutal.
Paisley’s eyes flicked toward the others, desperate. “You’d destroy a man’s future over a woman?Her?”
Sebastian’s breath slowed. Measured. “Yes.”
“She’s not worth it.”
He should have struck him then.
Every muscle in Sebastian’s body coiled to snap. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his teeth clenched hard enough to ache. He thought of Maddie’s voice, steady despite her underlying fear. Her courage. The way she had leaned into him at the chapel, not broken, but burning.
And this man dared call her unworthy?
“Don’t,” Thomas warned under his breath, stepping forward just enough to anchor him. “He’s not worth your knuckles.”
Paisley saw the moment. Misread it.
He laughed, a thin, manic sound. “You act like she’s worthy to be my duchess. She’s nothing! She-she snuck into your room how many times, Cambridge? Everyone knows it.”
Sebastian’s heart slammed once. The insult didn’t woundhim. But it would woundher.
She’ll hear of this, he thought darkly. That coward will spread it like rot.
“She’s probably ruined already,” Paisley went on, sneering. “A little midnight maid, playing nurse. You really think she’s untouched?”
Sebastian’s jaw flexed.
Then came the crack.
Thomas’s fist landed across Paisley’s jaw with a vicious snap, sending him reeling into the mantel. The sound rang like a bell. Solid. Satisfying.
Paisley clutched his face, eyes wild. “You-you can’tstrike me! I’m a bloody duke!”
Thomas stepped back, calm as ice. “And you’re a disgrace.”
Sebastian’s voice dropped to a blade’s edge. “She brought me tea. And medicine. When I was ill.”
Paisley wheezed. “Like a maid?”
“No.” Sebastian stepped forward, voice like steel. “Like a friend. Like someone decent. Something you wouldn’t recognize if it spat in your face.”
Paisley’s face contorted. “You think you’re better than me?”
Sebastian didn’t blink. “IknowI am.”
Prince Alexander stepped forward at last, his voice a velvet blade. “Your name will carry no weight in Vienna. Nor Budapest. Nor Paris.”
Paisley’s head snapped toward him. “You—you wouldn’t—”
“I already have,” Alex said coolly.
Then Rotheworth stepped in. “And you may look forward to hearing from my mother. She’ll be delighted to speak with yours. It will be the end of your Season. And likely… of your standing.”
Sebastian watched the color drain from Paisley’s face like ink from a blotter.
