Sebastian could barely make Margaret out as she sat in the shadows, unmoving and quiet, almost like a garden statue. A tragic princess.
Tragic? Sebastian stepped closer. She wasn’t frowning, but she was not smiling either. He removed his jacket, placed it around her shoulders, and lowered himself beside her.
She sent him a small smile and he took one of her hands in his, and then the other. They were ice cold, and she seemed more fragile to him than she ever had before. “You’re freezing.”
“I have been thinking.” She sat right beside him but something in her demeanor made him feel as though she was a thousand miles away.
Or perhaps he only imagined it. His conversation with her brother had left him paranoid.
“Have you solved all of the Regent’s problems?” He rubbed her hands between his. They almost glowed in the moonlight. A lady’s hands.
She didn’t answer right away, nor did she laugh.
“I think you ought to leave tomorrow.” Her fingers wrapped around his, halting his motions.
“But there are six days remaining.” But he knew her meaning. She’d changed her mind about him—no, about herself. “Come to London with me.” He could imagine them there, without family nearby and guests around every corner. “Let’s enjoy one another for as long as possible before I sail. I’m not ready to let you go, Maggie.”
And somehow, the moment the words left his mouth, he realized they were the wrong thing to say. But they were the truth.
“I’m no man’s possession to keep or let go, least of all yours.” Her voice came out clipped. “That’s something you would say to your mistress.” And then a harsh laugh. “But I suppose that’s what I am.”
“You are more than that to me and you know it.” What had come over her this evening? She’d seemed perfectly fine throughout the meal. More than fine! She’d captivated him.
Sebastian turned to face her and then touched her chin so that she would meet his eyes.
It was as though she’d sat outside and allowed the cold to freeze her emotions along with the rest of her.
“I’m sorry.” His mouth had gone dry. “I did not mean it that way. That is not all that there is between you and me.You know that.”
She dropped her gaze to their hands and then looked back into his eyes. An odd fear squeezed his heart.I am not done loving her yet.
“What else is there between us, Sebastian? What else can there ever be?”
“I care about you. You are the first person I think of when I wake up and the last one I think of before I fall asleep. It’s good. This is good. You and me. All of it.” He held her tight and tucked her head beneath his chin, inhaling her scent and his own from the jacket wrapped around her. In his next breath, he also noticed the decay of autumn slowly taking over the garden.
She didn’t fight him. Her body was not ready for him to leave, he was certain of that.
“Maggie,” he whispered in her hair. “I don’t want to lose you.”
She drew away from him but not out of his arms entirely. “But you must. Yes, it is good.Youare good.Iam good. Right now, all of it feels so very good. But it will not always be this way and I’d rather we end it before…”
“Before what?”
“Before we’ve run our course. Before this passion burns itself out.” And then she laughed. “I am not being honest with you.” She looked away. “I have been so very foolish. During dinner, you were talking about the book—about William—and in the middle of the meal, for a moment, I nearly convinced myself that you wanted a family and that I could be… It’s embarrassing to say it. Because by the time you finally return from all of your travels and are ready to marry and then set up a nursery, I will be ancient.”
Her words didn’t make sense at first, but as he processed them, he felt rather as though the world tilted. “I do not want to have a family.” The conviction had become a part of him. “I enjoy the book because of the lessons. The rest…” He shrugged. “It’s only a story.”
She laughed again. Mockingly, but he sensed more at herself than at him.
He leaned toward her urgently. “I want you, Margaret. Come back to London with me. I beg of you.”
“Do you love me? Do you wish to make me your wife? Because that is what I want—it’s what Ineed. You and I—we are good. But you and I—we are impossible. I have known this all along, and I still allowed myself to believe…” When he didn’t answer, because he could not give her the answer she desired, she continued, “Please, Sebastian. If you care for me even a little, go.”
She wanted a family. He had known this. Why else would she have engaged herself to George so easily?
For an instant, he wondered what it would be like to marry her. Did he love her? He’d pushed the notion away for so long that the words had no meaning. He’d loved Bethany.
He’d loved his daughter…
