"I presume Miss Sinclair was thinking about you and how your situation was more dire than hers."
For the first time, Sebastian looked startled, and younger than he seemed. That alone told her more than anything he'd said.
Nobody had ever cared more for him than for their own selves.
Eleanor's heart ached. This wouldn't be easy for either father or son. This son was scarred so deeply she could only see the surface of it, and he would not give his trust lightly. If only she could do something to help them, but right now, her predicament was worse than either. She was helpless. All Eleanor had was this one conversation to make a difference. "I won't say anything to your mother or to Tremayne, however I cannot say that they won't figure it out."
"I'm to marry Miss Sinclair within the hour. Tremayne wished for her to remain at his estate, but perhaps... I could make my mother see that it would suit her more to have Miss Sinclair here, beneath her nose. Morgana might push the matter."
"If you could do so, then perhaps Miss Sinclair might not be at risk."
"My mother is involved; there is still a chance she might be harmed, but at least here, I can keep an eye on her."
"Can you stop your mother from hurting her?" Eleanor didn't like the idea of giving that woman any chance at the innocent young girl.
"No, I cannot." Sebastian's lips twisted wryly. "And I do not dare. The only chance I have of protecting Miss Sinclair is to ensure that my mother believes she means nothing to me. I am very good at being cruel." He hesitated though, as if the very idea of it seemed to destroy some hope he'd owned. "My mother plans to kill you. She means it."
Eleanor drew back with a gasp.
"If you will not tell them what they want, then she sees no reason to keep her rival alive."
"Rival?"
"You have what she's always wanted."
Eleanor looked down. "Your father's heart."
"His respect, his trust... She cannot even understand how you could have done it."
"The problem is, Morgana always thought that respect and love can be manipulated or bought. She does not realize that love itself means that one cares just as much for the object of your heart as one does for oneself. If not more so."
Sebastian stayed silent for a long moment. "Perhaps you understand her better than I thought. I cannot get you out. I cannot help you."
Eleanor nodded, though the shock of it was twisting through her veins and wreaking havoc on her heart. It was not unexpected, but she couldn't stop thinking of Drake. Of how she'd never see him again... That was the true regret, right there. He'd be devastated, blaming himself for letting her go on this mission in the first place. Tears pricked at Eleanor's eyes, but as Sebastian turned to leave, she knew there was one last gift she could give to the man she loved. "Sebastian?"
"Yes?"
"I know there's no hope for me, but if something ever happens to you, and you have no other chance of escape, then go to your father. I know Drake would risk his own life to rescue you, no matter what the odds against him were."
"He's got you wrapped around his little finger, doesn't he?" That smile was bitter. "Why would I do that? After all, raising a demon would be the least of my sins. There is no saving me, Mrs. Ross. I've known that for a very long time. The only thing I can do is hope to take that bitch with me when my ship starts to sink."
And then Sebastian was gone, with a faintly respectful nod in her direction.
Chapter Twenty
Another fruitless day of searching.
Ianthe was so frustrated she wanted to scream. No luck, no matter where she turned. Now she knew whom she faced, if she could find Morgana...
Then what?
Kill her, whispered a deep, dark instinct. Get my daughter back.
But finding her wasn't as easy as it seemed. Nobody on the dark side of sorcerous society knew anything about Morgana's whereabouts, and Ianthe had spent countless hours casting small location spells. It wasn't her forte, but at least she had Louisa's hair to use as a focus, much good it had done her.
Cursing under her breath, she turned to pace, and that was when she saw the letter propped on her pillow.
Her breath felt like it had been punched out of her. No.
