Four
The ballroom of Viscount Slothington’s London townhouse was awash with golden light and the scent of fresh blooms, but Sabrina felt none of its usual enchantment. She moved through the glittering throng with careful composure, her fan and skirts in perfect alignment, though her mind was elsewhere. She had come because it was expected of her, a duty. One her father had reminded her of earlier that morning at breakfast. She was on her third season and still had not found a husband. She did not want one, but that was a discussion she could not have with her father. He would not be pleased with her decision to remain unwed. Besides a husband would be nothing more than a distraction. Something she could not afford. Especially not tonight.
But still distraction found her in the form of a familiar presence.
Leander, the Duke of Lionston, stood across the room, his back straight, shoulders squared, the very picture of aristocratic composure. Sabrina’s pulse betrayed her as she took him in. The war had changed him, sharpened him…hardened him. The boy she had once known—the one who had laughed with her in her mother’s drawing room, the one she had begged not to go to the Continent, the one who had vanished from her life without a word—was gone. In his place stood a man whose expression was enigmatic, impenetrable, and somehow both magnetic and infuriating.
Her thoughts flashed to only a few nights past, to that near miss in one of London’s seedier quarters. She had been thankful he had not seen her, though the memory lingered, sharp and disquieting. Why had he been there? And what did it mean for the man she thought she had once known so well? She knew what her purpose had been, albeit a failed endeavor, but it was not an area anyone with honest intentions usually lingered.
He turned at that moment, as if sensing her gaze, and their eyes met. A spark of recognition, a flicker of the past, danced between them—and then, as quickly, it was gone. The tension tightened, leaving her breath caught in her throat. She hated that it affected her so. She hated that, despite everything, there was still a part of her that remembered fondness for him, that remembered trust and laughter and late-summer evenings in her mother’s gardens.
Her instinct was to retreat, to pull herself from this impossible complication. Yet, as he moved closer across the parqueted floor, he offered a slight, ironic smile—a silent challenge, one she had learned all too well to accept in the past. He thought he could just continue as if years hadn’t passed between them—years during which he had broken her heart by leaving.
“Lady Sabrina,” he said smoothly, his tone a careful mixture of formality and something teasing, something dangerous. “It seems this ball holds more surprises than one might expect.”
Sabrina arched a brow, her lips curving in a sharp, measured line. “Indeed,” she replied, with the faintest bite. “And some surprises are far less welcome than others.”
He chuckled softly, the sound low and deliberate, as though he remembered a hundred unspoken things between them. “Ah, but you cannot tell me that this meeting is entirely unwelcome.”
“I can,” she said, her voice crisp, and took a step back, though she did not avert her gaze. “Some acquaintances,” she added pointedly, “have a troublesome habit of abandoning their promises—and their friends—without so much as a by-your-leave.”
Leander’s eyes darkened slightly, though the flicker of something more—remorse, perhaps—was there. “You speak as though I had no reason,” he said quietly, the edge of emotion barely restrained.
“And yet you left,” Sabrina countered, her voice tight with restrained anger. “And no reason, however noble, absolves one of the consequences of abandoning a friend.”
He inclined his head, acknowledging her words with a gravity that seemed to deepen the air between them. “Perhaps,” he said, low enough for only her to hear. “But some decisions, once made, cannot be undone.” What did he mean by that? What could have prevented him from having a change of heart? Did he even have such a revelation? She doubted it. He had wanted to go, and it didn’t matter one whit what she had wanted. Sabrina had not even been a consideration. What she had felt for him… She shook those thoughts away. Those feelings no longer mattered either.
“I suppose we will never know will we,” she replied sharply. “Because you are right. Some things cannot be undone.” He had destroyed her hopes and dreams. This man had so much power over once, and she supposed in some ways he still did. That did not mean she had to own up to it or accept it.
“I wish I wasn’t right,” he said quietly. “Regardless of the past, Sabella. I am glad to see you.” His lips formed a half, almost charming smile. That smile had stolen her heart years ago. Back then she had willing let it slip away into his keeping. “I missed you.”
“Did you?” She arched a brow. “How would I possibly know that?” She snapped her fingers. “Was it from all the letters you wrote me?”
He stared at her but said no word. What would he have to say to that? There had been no letters. Not one.
“Or perhaps you did something far more creative and sent a message with one of the soldiers to convey back to me.” She tilted her head to the side. “Now I admit that does sound ridiculous but stranger things have happened.”
“Sabella…”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped at him. “It implies I might mean something to you. That there is something infinitely special or endearing that draws us together. But we both know I mean nothing to you. Do not pretend with me. Go find some other lady to charm with your wit and new title. I am not interested.”
“Sabella,” he began again, in a softer almost imperceptible tone. “This is not the place for histrionics. The ton is watching.”
“Do not chastise me, Lee,” she said in a harsh tone. “When have I ever cared what society thinks of me. They can all go to the devil for all I care.” She poked him. “You, I used to care about. But it is a good thing I am good at disregarding those that are no longer important to me. I don’t need you and I certainly do not need your admonishment.”
“Perhaps you do,” he said. “Or you wouldn’t be so openly churlish. I did not leave to slight you.”
“No,” she agreed. “But you certainly didn’t stay to be with me either did you.”
He looked as if she had slapped him. “Sabella…”
“No,” she said as she flipped open her fan. “Don’t go there. What’s done is done. I don’t expect or want anything from you.” She sighed. “As I am no longer that girl…” Sabrina raked her gaze over him. “You are not the man I once knew. I don’t know who you are anymore.”
“Perhaps not,” he sighed. “I am not that man anymore. I doubt I could ever be who you once knew again.” He frowned. “But some things, the things that matter. Those things don’t change.”
Sabrina’s lips pressed into a firm line. She did not reply, for she knew it was true. The man before her would never be the boy she had once adored. Yet… and yet, there was a part of her that longed to reconcile the past with the present, to see whether beneath the hardened exterior, the Duke of Lionston still bore a heart she might recognize. Could there still be pieces of him that called to her? What if what she felt for him was one of those things that hadn’t changed? What would she do then?
She feared, with every careful breath she drew, that she might still care too much.
