by Reid, Stacy
She wrung her hands, frantic to find a way to break the silence. A thought stormed through her.
What if she revealed her feelings to him?
Would he then be more open? What if he was so withdrawn only because he thought she believed the rumors?
She swallowed and made up her mind. She was not afraid to confess her love. And what could it hurt? She hurried to his study, knocked, and entered before he bid her go away.
He glanced up at her intrusion, and his raw beauty warmed her as always. Garbed in gray trousers with a snow white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, he appeared relaxed and at home. Unfortunately, he seemed so cold and frighteningly unapproachable that he scared her.
“How my I assist you, Jocelyn?”
His polite inquiry was so bland she almost changed her mind. The vulnerability felt terrible. But she took a breath and stated the truth.
“I am in love with you.”
She met his gaze, and leaned against the closed door. Her hands were clasped so tightly around the handle that she knew she’d have welts on her palm.
When he did not respond, only stared at her with his icy blues, she repeated, “I am in love with you, Sebastian. I love you. Your warmth, your generosity with your tenants, your intensity…your passion. Your—”
“Enough, madam!” he bit out.
She could feel his fury pouring over her in waves. What had she said to make his eyes fill with such anger?
“I neither want nor require your love, Jocelyn. Do not speak such things.” His admonishment whipped over her, stinging and flaying.
“You are angry because I love you?” She did not think it possible for his expression to become more closed off, but it did.
“Did you not hear when I just ordered you not to speak to me of such things?” His voice had grown so forbidding she hesitated, her natural boldness squelched under the utter disdain that flowed from him.
“I love you, Sebastian. You not wanting to hear it won’t stop it from being true. I am not asking you to return the sentiment. I will not say it again if that is your desire, but know that every time I look at you, touch you, kiss you, and when you are deep inside me and I am calling out your name, I am saying I love you. That is, if you ever return to our bed.”
She did not wait for a response, or even watch his reaction. She whirled and jerked the door open, and stalked from the room.
She feared he would never come back to her, no matter how hard she tried.
…
Sebastian was rooted to his chair. Her words washed over him and punched into a deep, cold recess in his heart. He felt a crack, and hardened himself at the rush of feelings. It could not have been easy for her to declare herself in the face of his indifference.
“I do not believe Jocelyn was aware that I was in the room.”
At Anthony’s amazed remark, Sebastian swiveled in his chair to face his brother. He had arrived early for the Christmas gathering, and Sebastian had yet to inform her.
“I don’t think I have ever seen you looking quite so at a loss, Sebastian.” Anthony grinned at the scowl that Sebastian sent him.
“Shut up, damn it,” he snapped, and prowled over to the decanter to pour two whiskeys. “How is Phillipa?” he asked as he handed one to his brother.
“Very happy and contented. She will journey down with her sisters and parents in a couple of days.” Anthony took a healthy swallow of his drink. “I thought someone was playing a prank when I read in The Times that you had wed Lady Jocelyn Rathbourne. Then I realized it must be true, because who would dare?”
Sebastian grunted, and stalked to the windows. He opened them a crack, letting in the chill.
“Bloody hell, Sebastian, you and the damn cold!” Anthony rose and joined him, gazing out at the landscape that was blanketed white with snow. “How on earth did it come about that you married Lady Jocelyn?”
Sebastian ground his teeth. “She barged in here with a derringer, claiming you had taken advantage of her and demanding satisfaction.”
“The hell you say!”
Sebastian broke down and chuckled as amusement trickled through him. “She was quite amazing. And I thought that instead of choosing one of the vapid, shallow misses who pepper the ton, a bold and adventurous woman would be preferable. Although I’ve come to realize that my days would be far more peaceful with a more biddable wife.”
He glanced at his brother, and they both roared with laughter. It was the first time he’d cracked a smile in days.
“I don’t think I have ever seen you this surprised, Anthony.”
“Lord. I knew the woman was fearless, but I never thought she would appear on your doorstep with a gun, Sebastian! Good God, man!” Anthony thrust his hands through the blond hair that fell in wild disarray, so different from the severe cut he normally wore.
“I was a bit taken aback myself,” he admitted with a reluctant grin.
Green eyes so different from his own assessed him. “And then you wed her without knowing if I had been with her as she’d claimed?”
Sebastian heard the undisguised shock in his brother’s question. “Whatever you are Anthony, is not the libertine she claimed. I knew something must have happened or she would not have had Mother’s locket in her possession. But I did not believe you capable of betraying Phillipa so completely—not when you had been making such an ass of yourself.” Sebastian sipped his whiskey.
Anthony winced. “Bloody hell.”
Sebastian said nothing, just downed the rest of his whiskey.
His brother jetted out a breath. “I went to Lincolnshire to gain some perspective, and Jocelyn came out of nowhere. I thought I desired her, and kissed her a few times, but nothing beyond that, Sebastian. Her beauty was so different from Phillipa’s, and her character, as well. I became enchanted. And of course there was her pedigree— I believed I was making the right decision.”
“Why did you change your mind?” Sebastian asked, and waited patiently while Anthony poured another whiskey.
“She scared me.”
Sebastian gave a bark of laughter.
“It’s no laughing matter, Sebastian.” Anthony grimaced in chagrin. “She rode her horse astride, her skills with her bow surpassed any I had ever seen. She hunted, Sebastian. And I don’t mean for fox. After a few weeks, I realized how different she was from the women of the ton. She made no effort to be demure, and her energy left me dizzy. It had enticed me to think she would make a bloody awesome bed partner—” He broke off at the glare Sebastian sent him, and shrugged. “I’m just telling you my thoughts at the time. But it was mostly the lure of Phillipa that drew me away.”
“Just take care,” Sebastian said evenly. “Did you propose?”
“No,” Anthony said softly. “But I meant for my actions to be interpreted as such. Phillipa had rejected my offer of marriage and I was reeling. Jocelyn and I became friends and I knew she needed to make her estate solvent. I left the locket with her and returned to London to ensure Phillipa was not with child before I made any concrete decisions in relation to her. You know all that happened after.”
“I see,” Sebastian said.
Anthony jerked his chin at the study door. “What was that all about? Her comment about you being absent from her bed?”
Sebastian related the gist of their fight in a cold, clipped voice.
Anthony lifted a bemused brow. “She has heard the rumors about Marissa? Have you explained?”
“What is there to explain?” Sebastian ground out. “I have no desire to dredge up my past mistakes.”
“Jocelyn is your duchess, Sebastian. Do you think the old rumors won’t surface upon her first foray to London? Don’t be blind, man. Many will flock to her side wanting to be associated with you, and there will always be those who thrive on gossip and innuendo, if not outright lies. And really, it is hardly fair to expect her to obey you about Mother without questioning your reasons.”
Sebastian stared at him intently. “Ar
e you saying Phillipa would gainsay your wishes?”
Anthony gazed out at the falling snow. “No, but, I assure you, their temperaments are very different. Besides, I tell my wife the reasons behind my decisions.”
Sebastian threw back the rest of his whiskey. “I do not speak of our mother.”
“Will you ever forgive her? She longs for you, Sebastian, she—”
“Enough!” Sebastian gritted his teeth and slowly unclenched his hands from his glass, fearing it will crack. “I said I will not discuss our mother. Not even with you, Anthony. I do not give a damn what she longs for,” he snarled, and prowled the study with restless energy. “And when my duchess enters society, I have no fear that she will handle herself brilliantly.”
“She will. Even in the short time we have been acquainted, I know her to be fearless and poised.”
Sebastian grunted in agreement.
“Have you read the remainder of Mother’s journals?”
“You know I have not,” he ground out. “I will not discuss her further, Anthony.”
“I read them in one sitting, Sebastian, and you refuse to hear about its contents from me. I believe if you were to read all twelve volumes you would not feel such disdain for her.”
Sebastian glanced at his brother with blank eyes. “I will not discuss this further, Anthony.”
“Well, then,” Anthony murmured, stuck his hand in his trouser pocket, and bounced on his toes a couple of times. The seconds drew out until he said, “So, I see Jocelyn has been busy decorating for the festive season. The place fairly glows.”
“I noticed,” Sebastian clipped out as he rolled down his sleeves and reached for his riding jacket. “Let’s visit the stables. Further talk of Jocelyn’s avowal and our mother are off limits.”
He ignored his brother’s taunting chuckle as they strode outside into the bracing cold. He hoped the cold would help harden him against the rush of emotions he had been feeling since Jocelyn’s heartfelt declaration.
He had not let himself be open to love for years. Not since Marissa’s perfidy. Sweet words and coyly delivered promises of love sickened him.
As he stalked toward the stables, he thought about how his wife had declared herself. There had been nothing sweet, or shy, or remotely coy about it.
His duchess had been bold and unflinching, true to her temperament.
And he had been a complete bastard.
…
June 19th 1864
Today is Sebastian’s twelfth birthday celebration. I have been ordered to not be there. I deeply wish I could, but I know that Clement will execute his threat to banish me from Sherring Cross if I do not adhere to his demands. There are times I think banishment would be preferable to the cold silence I must endure. I have tried in so many ways to connect with my beautiful boy but he only stares at me with hatred. How I wish I could hug him to me, and tell him how much I love him, and how proud I am of him. My heart shattered as I—
Sebastian closed the journal softly and leaned back in the sofa, his heart squeezing.
After deeply contemplating Anthony’s stance on how Sebastian treated his duchess and their mother, he had approached reading the rest of his mother’s diaries with a calm stoicism he had not expected himself to possess.
Slowly, as he’d read the heart-wrenching words of his young mother, his hatred had tempered and his condemnation thawed. Some semblance of regret had sliced through him, deep and painful. He’d then felt consumed with the need to learn everything about her. Hours passed as he absorbed her words, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the library.
It was through the lines of her diaries, absorbing the passion, the love, the unending need and warmth she derived from her lover, which caused the first pulse of need for more in his life to flare within Sebastian. He had been utterly shocked to realize that he was lonely. He realized how cold and withdrawn he was from everything around him, especially from Jocelyn. He had shuttered himself away from his wife in the same manner his father had done with his mother, and yet, Jocelyn deserved none of his anger.
He was grateful for the small measure of peace he found from the hurt and betrayals of his childhood. He understood some of the pain she’d had to endure being kept away from him. He had always thought she’d chosen to stay away, being too consumed with her lover. But it had been his father’s way of punishing her for her unfaithfulness. Had he known he was punishing Sebastian, as well?
He glanced down at the volume gripped in his hand. She’d written that she loved him wholeheartedly. Her accounts of his many accomplishments and her overwhelming pride in him were unmistakable, even to his biased eyes.
He had six more journals to read. He knew Jocelyn needed to understand his refusal to have his mother at Sherring Cross, and he would explain. But Sebastian still doubted he could have his mother’s presence in his home so soon. He understood her need for her lover, but he still had not forgiven her for it.
His mind shifted to Jocelyn, and his heart became quiet. He thought about the words his duchess had so passionately declared, and an ache settled deep inside him. He could imagine what his silence and coldness must have done to her. He could not escape the knowledge that the past few weeks with her had been the most blissful time of his life.
She loved him. But did he love her? He still doubted he had the capacity to accept and give love. Love was something he had banished from his life years ago out of necessity, but she made him yearn to be loved. That passion his mother wrote about. The need to share, to be comforted, and the joys that are found in laughter. He found it all in Jocelyn. The days of silence had been hell, and he admired the strength it had taken for her to admit that she loved him. The ache in his chest was almost unbearable.
He had the urge to go to her and explain his actions, but he repressed the feelings for now. He himself did not fully understand. He had much to atone for with his duchess, but allowing his mother to visit so soon, Sebastian could not grant her. His wound felt too raw. She would have to allow him to reconcile in his own time. His headstrong duchess would have to concede to his wishes on this, at least.
Chapter Eight
I thank you, Lady Jocelyn, for your warm greetings. Viscount Radcliffe and I are much honored to accept your invitation to Christmas dinner. I am so very thankful that Sebastian is happy to have us in his home, although I confess to being a bit surprised. But most pleasantly so, I assure you. I am looking forward to making your acquaintance.
Yours,
Margaret, Lady Radcliffe
Sebastian’s mother.
Jocelyn had blatantly disobeyed him and invited the woman to the Christmas gathering.
The rage that gripped him unnerved even Sebastian himself.
He read the note for the fifth time, still in disbelief. It had been by pure chance that he had stumbled upon it. He had seen the seal and recognized it as his mother’s lover’s seal. So he had opened it, despite its being addressed to Jocelyn. He could not believe the nerve of the woman.
He realized that he had been too soft on his wife, allowing her far too much latitude. Something had to be done.
He summoned her to his study, and sat down to wait.
She swept into his domain looking glorious as usual, and he girded himself against the desire that flooded through him. Her hair was upswept in the most severe fashion, but the tendrils that curled loosely over her forehead softened the effect. The purple tea gown she wore bared the creamy swell of her breasts and Sebastian itched to pull her into his lap and have his way with them.
“You summoned me, Your Grace?”
He could see the wariness in her eyes. Three days had passed since her declaration of love and he had ignored her completely, not even dining with her. He had needed the distance so he could think clearly. So he could come to peace with all he’d learned about his mother, and unravel why Jocelyn’s words would affect him so. And then this.
She did not understand the full extent of the trouble she was in.
<
br /> He smiled, but not pleasantly. “Do you have something to tell me, Jocelyn?” He kept his voice deliberately bland, lest he bellow his rage.
“I do not, Sebastian.”
He surged to his feet and stalked around his desk to lean against it. “I detest liars. Have I not made myself clear on that regard?”
Puzzlement shadowed her face as she took two halting steps forward. “I have not lied to you, Sebastian.”
“Then how would you explain this, madam?” He pushed the note forward, and it fluttered to the ground.
She stooped to pick it up. “Oh!” She gasped as she read the contents. Sebastian blinked in disbelief when she had the nerve to smile broadly at him. “I was not sure if she would respond.”
He wondered if she was daft. “How is it that you fail to understand your precarious position…” he murmured softly. Then roared, “You defied me!”
Her body jumped, startled at his anger. “You gave me no choice,” she snapped. “I had no way of reaching you, Sebastian. There has been tension between us for ten bloody days. I have tried in so many ways to mend my thoughtless remark, to explain my feelings, but you have shut me out completely.”
“So you sought to manipulate me by inviting my mother after I have forbidden it?” he asked incredulously. “You have not comprehended your folly, madam. As you so indelicately pointed out, the last woman that tried to manipulate me is dead.”
“I did not try to manipulate you!” She clutched her hands and glared at him. “I wanted to provoke a reaction from you. And I succeeded. Your anger is better by far than the icy detachment you have thus far treated me to.”
“Do you believe so, madam?” he said with chilling softness. “You will retract your invitation, Jocelyn, and you will do so immediately.”
She glared at him mutinously. “I will not. If you will but hear me out—”
“There is nothing to hear, Jocelyn. Retract the invitation immediately.”
“I will not!”
He clenched his teeth, debating how to deal with this…this…flagrant insubordination. It wasn’t so much the invitation that infuriated him as her blatant, willful defiance of his orders. “Where have you been living, Jocelyn?”
