“That’s not something to be proud of,” he said quietly, but neither man seemed to hear. Or perhaps they just didn’t care.
They could keep their games. Sebastian had never found pleasure in the “easy”. There was no appeal in taking something not freely offered. It was the depth of a woman’s mind that intrigued him. Her fire. Her defiance.
Like the way Maddie Hunt had stood toe-to-toe with him in the snow, grinning as if she could topple him with a single look.
She probably could.
He lifted his glass and set it back down untouched.
“I don’t want perfection,” he said, this time loud enough to cut through the laughter. His tone was calm, but there was no mistaking the conviction in it. “I want someone who sees the world with clarity.Who wants something real. And who won’t hand herself over for a compliment.”
The room quieted, slightly.
Paisley gave a lazy shrug. “To each his own.”
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, gaze fixed on the fire.
Let them think him stuffy or slow or overly principled. He didn’t mind. He knew what he wanted.
And somehow, despite all his rules and resistance… he had a sinking feeling she wore snow-dusted gloves and smelled faintly of peppermint and lemon balm.
*
My daughter,
I’ve been summoned to Lady Ashley’s wedding and can only speculate why it has been arranged nearly four months earlier than anticipated. Not that the short notice concerned me as much as your new friendship with a certain marquess. When did you decide that a duke was too high to reach?
Do write and explain yourself.
Mother
Viscountess Tisdale
Maddie folded the letter slowly, smoothing its crisp edges with more care than necessary. At least the paper was neat if not her nerves. She placed it beside the untouched cup of chocolate on Ashley’s vanity and took a calming breath.
The wedding was now just a few days away. Not four months, as originally planned. Mere days. And here she was, standing in Ashley’s chambers, staring at the wedding dress her friend held up with delight.
“I had it commissioned when I thought we had more time,” Ashley said with a soft laugh. “Now look—it’snearly too fine for a rushed wedding.”
The pale-blue gown shimmered as it caught the light, the silk delicate as snowflakes and cool as Ashley’s glacier-blue eyes.
“It’s perfect,” Charlene said, reaching out to stroke the hem. “Like something out of a dream.”
Maddie nodded, though a strange tightness clutched at her chest. She should be overjoyed for her friend—truly she was—but still… a part of her ached. “You didn’t tell us,” she said, her voice low, nearly drowned out by the fire’s gentle crackling.
Ashley blinked and lowered the dress as she paled. “Tell you what?”
“That you were with child.”
Ashley’s expression faltered, and the gown slumped in her arms. “I’m sorry. I was afraid to.”
“Afraid?” Maddie asked. “Why?”
Charlene cut in gently. “You know what she means.”
“No,” Maddie said. “I don’t understand. Unless I’m missing some facts. Why would you be afraid to tell us? I mean, I came with you to the Royal Ascot with a stomach potion in my satchel, prepared to take down a peer of the realm for what he did to you.”
Ashley laughed, then quickly sobered. She looked down at the gown. “I know you wish to marry for love, and with all the things with your mother… I felt a little guilty.”
