“That’s enough out of the two of you. Oliver?”
“Apologies, my lady.”
“Thank you, Oliver. Think nothing of it.”
The rest of the meal went more smoothly with Mr. Lynnwood only having to admonish the boys almost minimally for their table etiquette. After dinner, Rebecca and Serena were given a tour of the boys’ schoolroom and sleeping quarters. Later, there was a visit to Duke for Rebecca, who was thrilled to see him. She had a feeling he would be snuck into the house before night’s end. And, lastly, a trip to the stables to meet each of the boys’ ponies, by the names of Dee and Dumb as in Tweedle, at which time, Mr. Lynnwood rejoined the fray.
It was an unforgettable evening, and Rebecca was just glad she’d been the one who’d found the children in London before something catastrophic had occurred. She still shuddered to think what could have happened had she not needed that breath of air and walked out of the Royal Society building—but that didn’t happen—and she strived to put it from her mind. By the time they headed back toward the house, twilight was setting in.
Owen took her hand and led her a short distance away.
Rebecca lowered herself down on a large rock. “Was there something you wanted to say, Owen?”
Nodding, he lowered beside her. Still, he didn’t speak, looking out over a disappearing sun in the horizon.
Rebecca waited, watching him. Her glance flicked to Mr. Lynnwood where Oliver was explaining something animatedly.
Owen cleared his throat. “Did you read my note?”
She took his hand. “The one where you asked me to marry your papa and stay with you forever? Yes, darling, I read it.” She drew in a deep breath. “But I’m afraid life is not that simple for adults, Owen.”
“Why not?”
“Well. A courtship must ensue, contracts negotiated, then there is the wedding, a wedding breakfast, a wedding trip…” Her voice trailed off as her flesh rose in goose bumps, hating the image that floated before her. Ryleigh. In all his arrogant duke-ness. And so highly irritating.
Mr. Lynnwood strolled up. “We should be heading back to the house, my lady. Perhaps you should consider going back tomorrow. You won’t make it back before full dark sets in.”
“My driver is quite capable, Mr. Lynnwood. It’s not a long drive.” Rebecca stood and held out her hand for Owen and look up at the sky. “I fear I must leave right away, Owen. Lady Huntley and I have much to discuss.”
Owen pierced her with the saddest eyes, and she had to remind herself, one didn’t marry a man for his children.Why not? The question nagged her all the way back to Ryleigh Hall.
~~~
Sebastian paced his study, pausing once to pour out a second measure of whiskey and tossed it back. Where the devil was she? It was dark out. Had she already forgotten the last time she struck out on her own? The woman needed a keeper. Someone to take her in hand. It appeared he was the only one who saw the urgency in doing so. She was a detriment to herself.
He stormed out of the study, prepared to saddle his own horse and reached the front door just as it slammed back. Lady Rebecca strode in as proud as you please.
“What the devil is wrong with you?” he demanded. He took her arm and steered her into his study before she managed one of her timely escapes. “You do not have the sense God gave you.”
Rather than jerking away, she pierced him with confused eyes. It took him a moment to realize they shimmered with… certainly it couldn’t be… but he feared it was… tears.
“Are you hurt? Did something happen? What is it, Lady Rebecca? Did my cousin—” But Sebastian couldn’t imagine Thomas assaulting a woman. He was more pompous than Sebastian. Even more surprising would be Rebecca sitting idly by to let some libertine take advantage of her. She was the strongest woman he’d ever known. He turned her to face him and clasped her other arm. “Tell me,” he said gently.
“It’s nothing. I-I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. She blinked and the proof slid down her cheek.
He moved one hand to her jaw and swiped his thumb over it, brushing it away. “Obviously, there’s something. Are you sure you are unhurt?”
“Yes.” Her whisper was like a feather over his skin. “It’s just… Owen. He begged me to stay. And, of course, I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be proper.”
Sebastian’s insides crumbled. “When have you ever been proper, my lady?”
She smiled back, something soft and regretful. “Rarely ever, Your Grace.”
His world shifted on its axis, tilted him off balance, until he angled his head to even things out. Only things didn’t even out. His head was perfectly poised, his lips just inches from hers. He knew he should pull back, but he couldn’t seem to move. He was frozen between parallel worlds—one decorous and respectable, the other wild and reckless. “Don’t you think you can find it in you to call me Sebastian?”
“It’s highly improper… Sebastian,” she said on a whisper that caressed his lips. Her eyes drifted closed and she leaned forward. Her lips were a magnetic force, drawing his own to hers. He feathered lightly, and her lips parted. Her breath mingled with his and he was lost. With his teeth, he took her bottom lip and pulled it into his mouth in a kiss much different than their previous one.
Her small sharp gasp sounded but she didn’t yank back from the shock. His tongue found hers and he managed a small gentle dance, when what he desired was a race. She followed his lead, angling her head to seal her mouth to his. Her fingers crept up his shoulders and tangled with the hair at his collar, tugging him closer.
