Avoiding hisgaze, she nodded.
He led herthrough the passage to her room, avoiding discovery on the shortwalk through the hall that wasn’t covered by thepassage.
“Iwill see you at breakfast,” he said, and again she nodded beforedisappearing into her room.
Chapter Twenty Six
STEPHEN WAS NOT AT breakfast.
Her untouchedtoast growing cold, Sera stared out the window, seeing nothingbeyond the blanket of white. Around her, others enjoyed theirbreakfast, talking and laughing and discussing the wedding andcelebrations of the previous evening, but she could not bringherself to join any of the conversations flowing around her.Instead, she stared out the window and let her toast growcold.
She should behappy. She had spoken with Stephen and, what’s more, he had spokenwith her. He had let her comfort him, and then...then they had madelove. She knew she was supposed to have refused him, was supposedto have guarded her chastity at all costs. But she had wanted him,and it had seemed natural to kiss him and touch him and allow himto touch her, and she could not regret something that had given hersuch pleasure. Waking up to his husky voice, his smile, had beeneven better.
And then he hadtold her he would ‘make arrangements’.
Across the room,the Earl of Ashburton grinned at her. She did not know why. He hadno notion what had happened last night, not unless he had seenStephen this morning and Stephen had told him, but she had no fearof that. Stephen would tell no one—it was not his nature. Moreoften than not, he remained silent and unsmiling, letting otherstalk around him, though she could sometimes steal a smile from him,and even more rarely a laugh.
Something burnedsharp and deep in her chest.
Standing, sheleft her cold toast behind as she left the breakfast room, notknowing her destination but knowing she could no longer be here inthe room Stephen had promised he would attend. Other guests milledin the corridors, and she didn’t want to be amongst them either, soshe found herself returning to her room, lying on her bed with herhand laced over her stomach and staring at the canopyabove.
Was it concernabout gaining permission from his brother? The Earl of Roxwaithemost likely did not hold her in esteem. She had been cruel to hisnew wife, after all, and he from all her observations loved Lydiato the point of madness.
Her throatclosed. What must that be like? To be loved sodesperately?
She hadapologised to Lydia, though, and what’s more, she had meant it.Perhaps at first it would be awkward, but she was SeraphinaWaller-Mitchell. If she wanted a thing, she would find a way to getit, and if she wanted Lydia Torrence—LydiaFarlisle—as herfriend, then it would be so. They were to be sisters-in-law and, assuch, would be in each other’s company often. She wouldmakeit so Lydia liked her. She had made it that the Ton feared andadmired her. This would be no different.
No. That was notwhy she was not happy.
Her handstightened on each other. She hadn’t known what to think when he’dstumbled though his plan to ‘make arrangements’. She hadn’t knownif he wanted her to object, to claim it was unnecessary. She hadn’tknown if he’d wanted her to gush with gratitude, to extol fortunein having an honourable man make an offer of marriage to protecther reputation.
All she couldthink was her mother hadn’t wanted her. Her father had created awhole other family and never told her at all. Stephen, it appeared,was no different—he wanted her, but only because his hand wasforced by their unwise actions. But they hadn’t been unwise to her.She had thought she had been expressing...love.
She’d looked athim looking at her, discomfort and uncertainty in his eyes, and shehad no idea what he wanted her to say. In the end, she could onlyagree. They would have a good marriage. They would make it a goodmarriage, but it would not be what she wanted...what she hadn’tknown she’d wanted, until all possibility of it had been removed:To marry for love, and not just obligation.
Clearly, he didnot feel the same.
She could, quitepolitely, refused him. She could, quite politely, tell him she’drealised they did not suit and he needn’t worry that he hadcompromised her. It was unlikely she was with child after onenight, and even if she was there were ways to deal with an unwantedchild.
She blanched.Never would she call her child unwanted, no matter thecircumstances surrounding their birth. She knew what it was to beunwanted. However, this hypothetical child was just that. There wasno reason to wed. None.
If she refused,though, if she told Stephen they did not suit, then she would nothave him, and she wanted him. With every fibre of her being, shewanted him.
Sera smiled atthe canopy without mirth. It appeared, when all was said and done,she was rather a pathetic sort. Who could have imagined thatSeraphina Waller-Mitchell, the woman who had held the Ton at herfeet, would settle for scraps from the man she loved?
A panel in thewall slid open. For some reason, she was not surprised when Stephenemerged, dusting at his shoulder and with cobwebs in his hair.Pushing herself up, she ran her gaze over him, the lean form sheknew was corded with muscle, the chest she knew lightly dusted withgolden hair. He was so handsome to her, so strong and sure. Sheloved his care for others, the way he wore his solemnity, the wayhe smiled for her. She loved that he let her see the broken piecesinside him, let her comfort him, and she loved that he did the samefor her. She loved that he gave her himself.
But he did notlove her.
He wore a frownas he approached the bed. “You were not in the breakfast room, andno one knew where you were. I’ve had the devil of a time trying toremember which passage led to your room, and almost set myself upfor a supremely embarrassing conversation with Lady Parr. ThankChrist she wasn’t in her room.” Finally, he noticed her lack ofresponse. “Sera?”
Lacing her handsin her lap, she regarded him impassively. “There is a passage to myroom? Why did we not take it this morning?”
“Itdoesn’t connect with the nursery.” His large hand swept over hisforearm, tugged at the sleeve of his jacket.
She rememberedthose hands, and how they had touched her. Her skin prickled, and apressure started low in her belly. She pushed the memory away. “Whyare you here?”
“Icould not find Oliver, and then I remembered he and Lydia were wedyesterday, and they probably have not stopped fu—uh, well, youknow,” he finished lamely, his cheeks ablaze.
