Maddie watched him, stunned. His jaw didn’t tighten. His voice didn’t sharpen. Instead, something quieter crossed his expression. A strength that needed no proving. He didn’t dignify the bait, didn’t rise to it—not because it didn’t touch him, but because he wouldn’t give Paisley the satisfaction of seeing it.
But it was there, plain to see if one took the time to look.
Maddie admired him more in that moment than any other.
And by it, she meant the envy. He was claiming her.
And oh, how she wanted him to succeed.
Sebastian turned to her with exquisite poise. “Well, it’s cold,” he said, gently. “You should go inside before you catch a chill, Paisley.”
Paisley barked a laugh. “Like you? Hah! Didn’t you just nearly faint with the flu?”
“A cold,” Sebastian corrected, with all the elegant assurance of a man immune to insult. “A bit befallen, yes. But not weak and certainly stronger for having survived it.”
He paused. The gleam in his eye was unmistakable.
“I wouldn’t expect you to risk such a condition, Paisley. You never know. Some colds are known to linger… others to strike a man in his, ah, most delicate faculties.”
Paisley blinked. “What?”
Sebastian shrugged, deadpan. “Oh yes. I’ve heard tell of fevers affecting the… continuation of one’s line. Quite tragic, really.”
He brought one gloved hand to his mouth as if to cough, but Maddie could see it. He was biting back a laugh.
She leaned in toward him, voice solemn. “I’ve been to the apothecary when men came in seeking cures for… you know.”
Paisley’sgaze darted between them.
“There weren’t any,” Maddie finished.
Sebastian let out a sound that might have been a snort—or a suppressed explosion of mirth.
Paisley paled. Truly paled.
“Well,” he said at last, voice wobbling with a flicker of panic, “as a duke, I do rank higher than you, Cambridge. I must take my leave. It’s rather important I ensure… everything is in working order. For the sake of my… ahem… heirs.”
And with that, he turned on his heel and fled.
They watched him disappear through the castle doors, and when the latch clicked behind him, silence followed before Sebastian exhaled.
And then, they laughed.
They broke into it together, sudden and helpless, laughter spilling into the cold morning like a warm wind. Sebastian’s was rich and deep and beautiful. Maddie’s own laughter bubbled up too fast, too full.
Her cheeks hurt. Her ribs ached.
“Oh,” she gasped, trying to breathe, “did you see his face?”
Sebastian nodded, his eyes dancing. “When you said there were no cures, he turned positively green.”
“He truly thought…” she started but couldn’t finish for laughing.
Sebastian leaned forward slightly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m fairly certain he’s galloping to the nearest doctor as we speak.”
Maddie couldn’t look away from him.
His eyes sparkled like black coffee kissed with sunlight, his cheeks pink from the cold, his smile warm and impossibly dear. His laugh wasn’t aristocratic. It wasn’t measured or poised. It was real. Joyful. Full-bodied. It was the sound of a man she was no longer resisting falling in love with.
