“Certainly not,” Vincent scoffed. “You are far away from this place and not paying any attention to a word I just said.”
“I was thinking of… the waitress.”
“Then why are you looking in the opposite direction that she has just gone?”
Vincent swept his hand broadly toward the back of the room where a small group of servers stood together waiting for the bartender to pour tumblers of amber liquid.
Sebastian harrumphed quietly then lifted his glass to his lips and in one go downed the entirety of his drink. He crimped his eyes closed as the liquor burned the back of his throat and left a streak of heat behind while sliding down his gullet.
Vincent waited for Sebastian to open his eyes before speaking.
“I know you, Talwyn.” He tapped the table between them briskly, motioning to the now empty glassware. “I know you are careful with your drinks. Despite being theton’smost notorious host in secret, you never over imbibe. You only drink in such quantities when?—”
“It was one glass, Ravenwood. Do not get yourself worked up over something so trivial.”
“Yes.” Vincent set his own glass down. “One glass that did not last a minute. You usually enjoy the taste of your liquor and savor it. I cannot recall the last time I saw you drink to forget yourself. It seemed you were aiming to banish your cares instead of enjoying yourself.” He gave Sebastian a look that was full of genuine concern. “Would it not be better to share your burdens with me than drown your sorrows at the bottom of a bottle?”
“When have I ever poured out my sad stories to you, Ravenwood? For that matter, when have you ever shared your deepest, darkest secrets with me?”
Vincent only smiled tightly at this attempt to avoid the pointed comment. Sebastian sighed, refusing to admit what—who—was on his mind.
“Sebastian,” Vincent sighed. “I know your turmoil involves Lady Phoebe. Verity has mentioned you asking about her often, who she is, why she has not been in thetonfor a while, if she has received any invitations for the events, you are also attending.”
His mind strayed back to that conversation about obsession. Sebastian had meant to comfort Lady Phoebe; to draw her out of her shell a little and give her the space she needed to confide in him. Instead, he had been compelled to lose himself in her presence and stroke her hair.
“Talwyn.” Vincent barked a coarse laugh. “What are you doing right now? Where did you go?”
“I was thinking of Lady Phoebe,” Sebastian confessed, “But…”
“But?” Vincent urged.
“I do not care for Lady Phoebe in the way you think,” Sebastian said.
The waitress circled nearer so he raised his hand and gestured for a second drink to be brought round. He lifted the empty tumbler and held it aloft, slowly watching the dregs of liquid swirl around the bottom of the glass.
“Explain,” Vincent said as he made a winding gesture with his hand.
“I worry about the lady,” Sebastian admitted. “Whenever we meet, she often strikes me as being unhappy and that is disconcerting.”
“It is… disconcerting, indeed,” Vincent mused. “But hardly any of your business. And certainly, Lady Phoebe’s unhappiness is no cause for you to take up a drinking habit.”
“But have you not seen her face?” Sebastian argued. “The other night, at the opera, the woman was terrified. That tyrant sitting next to her, Lord Birchwood, gripped her hand so roughly that had I been in their box…”
He allowed his voice to trail off, knowing that he had already said too much.
“What would you have done?” Vincent leaned forward and propped one elbow on the table.
He let his chin drop into his hands and made a face that indicated he found this brief glimpse into Sebastian’s inner thoughts riveting.
“Nothing,” Sebastian hissed. “I did nothing in the moment and would have done nothing had I been granted free rein. Lady Phoebe’s betrothed is a Marquess, and her father is an Earl.”
“And you are a duke,” Vincent reminded him, as if he needed it.
Sebastian offered no response, and he let the silence linger until he had his second drink.
Before he could speak up, Vincent did. “Since you have devoted many hours as of late to nurturing your acquaintance with Lady Phoebe, you must know her background, then.”
“Yes,” Sebastian murmured. “I just recited her circumstances, as well as her parentage.”
