by Lisa Campell
Before Eliza could reassure her friend again that she had suffered no permanent harm, Sebastian stood up from his chair.
“Come now, Judith. There’s a way to handle these things with grace and diplomacy,” Sebastian said, then offered Eliza his arm. “Her Grace is free to express herself in any way she sees fit, and we are free to prove her wrong. Come with me, Eliza.”
Bemused, Eliza did as he asked. She almost didn’t realize at first that he was bringing her to the dance floor, among dozens of other happy couples. The quadrille had long since ended, and the band was striking up a waltz. Eliza felt herself blushing. Sebastian had hardly ever been so close to her in the privacy of their own home, much less in public. The thrill of being held in his arms was practically obscene.
“Are you mortified?” he asked, his features eased by a roguish grin. “If you’re not, I’m certain Her Grace will be.” He took a quick glance around. “Tell me where she is.”
“Across the room.” Eliza stifled a giggle. “On a velvet chaise, surrounded by her entourage.”
It took Sebastian no time at all to figure out where the Duchess of Hampshire sat. He began to move in that direction, taking Eliza with him, his arm secure around her. She gazed up into his bright blue eyes. The stresses of the night, the fear of judgement realized, the lingering shame and self-doubt, all melted away while he held her, guiding her seamlessly through the steps of the dance.
The number of dancers had thinned out with the advent of the waltz. Many couples were too shy, or too conscious of their social standing to embrace the dance in all its comparative intimacy. Eliza was aware that she and Sebastian stood out on the floor, and she wondered what the elder members of the ton must be thinking.
Nevertheless, to be dancing so closely with her husband was a freedom she grasped with both hands. The music floated in one ear and out the other; her steps were guided only by Sebastian’s. His hands, one still holding hers and the other on her waist, were warm and strong. Their faces hovered nearly close enough to kiss.
Then he swept her around so that she could see the portion of the ballroom that had formerly been behind her, and Eliza had the joy of beholding the faintly scandalized faces of the Duchess of Hampshire and her followers, most of whom stared in awe at Sebastian’s lithe, handsome form. He paid them no mind at all until the end of the waltz, focusing entirely on his wife.
Eliza was enthralled to be the center of Sebastian’s attention. For weeks, she had dreamed of a moment like this, to be the only lady present in his eyes. To be wanted and needed as fiercely by him as he was by her. To be his equal in anything at all, even a dance at a ball.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Her eyes shimmered. He smiled tenderly.
“No tears, darling. This is a happy night for you and I. There is no one who can stop a gentleman from waltzing with his wife.” As the last strains of the music faded, Sebastian kissed her on the forehead, turned, and walked toward Her Grace amid a dainty smattering of applause. He bowed his head to the duchess. “I trust you’re having a pleasant evening, Your Grace?”
She sniffed, giving him the same critical once-over she had to Eliza. “A fine young gentleman should think twice about engaging in such disgraceful displays,” she told him curtly. “Modesty should be a pillar of any marriage.”
“Well…” Sebastian looked at Eliza. “I suppose my love for her shouldn’t have had any bearing, then.”
The young lady who had insulted Eliza before let out a gasp and quickly covered her mouth. Still smiling, Sebastian kissed the back of Eliza’s hand. “Let’s be off, my love. I wouldn’t want our happiness to threaten the Duchess of Hampshire’s good time.” As they strolled off hand in hand, he murmured, “Don’t look back. Just imagine the expressions on their faces.”
Eliza had to laugh. Her heart had grown wings and lifted in her chest. She exalted in the simple fact that Sebastian, her Sebastian, had admitted his love at long last! Perhaps he had done so for petty revenge, but she delighted in hearing the words come from his mouth, no matter the circumstance.
“You,” she responded, “are incorrigible.”
Sebastian grinned, clearly pleased with himself.
Chapter Fourteen
Somehow, Sebastian had managed to save the night, pulling it back from the edge of total destruction. He would have been lying if he did not admit that a part of him enjoyed playing the role of Eliza’s savior, her hero. Not that he was glad for the sacrifice of her dignity and her social status. He was a proud gentleman, but no monster.
The only thing that mattered was her smile as they left Colchester Manor, stepping out into the cool night air. It was dark, and the velvet black sky spread out high above them, dotted with stars dropped from an artist’s cosmic brush. Eliza turned her face up to the silver moon. Its light pooled in her emerald irises.
“Did you mean it?” she asked, without looking at Sebastian. “What you said to the Duchess of Hampshire?”
He had known the question was coming, sooner or later. The moment his confession had left his lips, it was only a matter of time before she probed him. That much was inevitable. Sebastian had never once, up until that moment in their marriage, hinted at love. Instead, he had described the myriad ways in which their love could never be.
Now, he saw that it was a losing battle. No matter how ardent his denials, the truth had become inescapable. His fear of the unknown, and of his tainted family heirloom, remained. But he loved Eliza from the utmost depths of his heart. He loved her.
“Yes.” He watched her as he spoke the word, as the single syllable touched her ears. Her expression changed from peaceful calm to disbelief. She stared at him. He said it again. “Yes, Eliza. I meant it.”
“Oh, Sebastian!” Halfway to their waiting carriage, she threw her arms around him. Taken aback by the force of her affection, he let out a laugh and wrapped her up in an embrace. The eyes of the ton did not matter a bit in that moment. All he knew was the feel of her silk dress beneath his fingers, the the hard bone of her hip, the softness of her breasts, leaning into his body. “I never knew you were secretly such a romantic,” she whispered in his ear.
The carriage ride home started out quiet and close. Eliza cuddled up against him in the back seat of the carriage, resting her head on his shoulder. She was flushed with good wine, and her long eyelashes dusted the tops of her cheekbones as she blinked slowly. Soon, she would be drifting toward sleep, and perhaps he’d have to carry her inside.
He wouldn’t have minded, but there was something he wanted to get off his chest first. He nudged her gently. Those thick lashes fluttered. She looked up at him. “Seb?”
“Can I talk to you?” He reached over and grasped her hand gently.
She nodded and sat up straighter. “What’s the matter?” The tone in the carriage had shifted from sleepy intimacy to solemn listening. She was ready to hear whatever he had to offer. Sebastian looked down at their hands, clasped on the seat and took a deep breath.
“I want to talk about my family,” he began hesitantly. “Perhaps it will help you to understand why I have chosen to live my life a certain way. As my wife, I feel it’s your right to know the full story.”
“Know that I am here for you, and I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured gently.
“I know. And I’m grateful for your presence every day, whether I show it or not.” It felt so liberating to finally be able to speak some level of his emotional truth. He sighed and ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair. “We have the title, the money, and the land, but mine has never been a happy family the way yours was when we were children.”
Eliza frowned. “Never?”
“Do you remember how often I stayed at your estate? For days, sometimes. Once, for weeks. The neighbors used to gossip that I was a third, illegitimate Trent child.” He chuckled wryly. “They couldn’t decide if it was your mother or father who had committed the sin.”
“No!” She gasped. “That can’t be true, Seb. I don�
��t recall hearing any such nonsense!”
“You were well shielded,” he answered. “Your mother especially did not want you exposed to gossip like that. I think she worried about having me in her house so often, though of course she never voiced her concerns where I might hear. She was a saint, the late Lady Colchester. I loved her as if she had raised me herself. In a way, I suppose she did.”
“But why?” Eliza laid her cheek against Sebastian’s upper arm. “Surely your parents weren’t simply allowing their son to run wild as he pleased.”
“They didn’t mean to, but I think they felt there was little choice. They had enough to deal with at home, without another child look after.” He let out his breath. “You see, I have a sister. Her name is Teresa, and she is…” He trailed off. After all of the buildup, the knowledge that the truth was coming, he still found it exceedingly difficult to voice her condition.
“Take your time,” Eliza murmured soothingly. She entwined her fingers tenderly in his. “I’ll listen for as long as you need.”
Sebastian glanced down at the top of her head and thought for a few moments about how richly he did not deserve a lady like her. Then he spoke again. “The doctor always said she was touched, and that her mind would never be right. She’d often lapse into all-consuming delusions, or fall into spasms. I witnessed many of her fits before Mother and Father sought to keep me barred from Teresa’s room. But I kept sneaking away to see her when no one was around.”
“You speak of her as if she lives only in the past,” Eliza remarked.
“She may as well.” Sebastian’s mouth tightened into a flat grimace. “The ton believes her dead, as might be expected. She was never able to debut, after all. What gentleman would choose to marry a bride who could do nothing but suffer in her bed?” The bitterness in his voice was so strong it was almost palpable. “None of the doctors Father recruited ever gave her a chance. I don’t know how many times my parents were told their daughter wouldn’t live a normal life, if she survived to be an adult.”
“I can’t imagine.” Eliza sat very still, holding his hand. She did not stir or cry as he talked; she merely listened.
“Mother remained steadfast, but I think after a while, my father couldn’t bear it any longer. And that’s not to say he didn’t love Teresa. The reality of her life hurt him so much because he loved her. He longed to see her laughing, riding horses through the fields, running free. But she was an invalid. Her legs were always so thin, I don’t know that she could walk.” He paused, trying to remember if he had ever seen Teresa walk at all. The dim memory of a few shaky steps crossed his mind’s eye and was gone.
“What happened to her?” Eliza’s words were almost inaudible over the sound of the carriage wheels on the dirt road. She sounded fearful, as though she didn’t really want to know the answer. Sebastian understood the sentiment, and the morbid curiosity. He, too, had been fearful, especially as Teresa failed to improve over the years. His father’s confidence in her health waned fast under the growing shadow of his resignation.
“She was placed in a rest home,” Sebastian said slowly. “For other invalids. The doctors originally wanted to send her to one of the big sanitariums, but Mother refused to allow it. She had heard horror stories about the way those patients suffered, though she had a brother who had lived without incident in a smaller home. So that was what she wanted for her daughter as well.”
“She survived!” The word carried a spark of hope, for which Sebastian thought he loved Eliza all the more. He had been so fearful that she would react in the same way as his father, with coldness and a carefully guarded heart. He was, however, happily mistaken. “How wonderful!” she gasped. “But how sad, too, for your poor mother. It must have been a horrendous decision to make.”
Sebastian agreed. “She was never the same afterward, despite being able to go and see Teresa whenever she wanted. I think that having her in any sort of institution made the whole thing too real for her. She didn’t imagine her children could share the same fate as her brother.” He stopped to gather his thoughts. “The doctor struggled to find a cause of death when my mother passed away. I believe her heart was broken.”
“I’m so sorry, Seb.” Eliza’s fingers tightened around his.
“It was no one’s fault,” he continued, following a beat of heavy silence. “Teresa’s least of all. We chose to deal with it—or not—in our own, uniformly unhealthy ways. My mother allowed her grief to consume her. My father became locked in his own personal prison. And I…I feared someday I would be the one to pass on our family’s curse. The thought of my own child enduring an existence like hers is unbearable to me.”
Eliza remained silent. She nuzzled his shoulder. Her eyes were open, staring contemplatively into the shadows.
Sebastian went on. “Years ago, I had an affair with a woman, an actress. She ended up with child, and when I discovered the pregnancy…” Once more he trailed off. The recounting of that dark period, which he had never done before, left a sour taste in his mouth. But he pressed on, for his sake and for Eliza’s. He was much too far in to be able to turn back now.
“When I found out, I was cruel to her. I told her how I didn’t want a child, without telling her why. I agonized over the future and over what we would do. I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with the baby. I had no idea how she’d interpret my tirade. She took it upon herself to make the problem go away, and it cost her everything.”
“Her life?” Eliza asked.
“Her life.” Sebastian’s free hand clenched into a fist. “I had no right to speak to her the way I did, nor to project my fears so strongly upon her. Since the day she died, I’ve borne the weight of her death upon my soul. And I’ve never taken such a risk since.” He smiled bitterly. “Contrary to popular belief.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Eliza spoke honestly. She did not let go of his hand. “But you didn’t kill her, Seb. Perhaps you were cruel, and perhaps you were wrong for being so, but her actions were her own. There are plenty of women who weather the scorn of society and raise children alone.”
Sebastian turned to her. “I have never told anyone that story before. I have never been told that I don’t bear every single ounce of responsibility for the outcome. Thank you.”
She shrugged delicately. “I love you, Sebastian. I don’t care who you’ve been or what you’ve done. You could have told me that your title is fake, that Matthew found you wandering one night as a street urchin and took pity on your circumstance. All I want is to be with you now, in the present. We can heal the wounds of the past together.”
Sebastian stared at her for a long moment, speechless. Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her until they both had to come up for air. In the face of her fierce devotion, his past convictions, once so strong, began to crumble.
He had never wanted anything or anyone more than he wanted Eliza.
Chapter Fifteen
Eliza gasped for breath, struggling to stifle her moans. She had never dreamed of the sort of unbridled passion Sebastian showed her that night. By the time they had been in her bed chamber five minutes, her clothes were a distant memory, heaped in a luxurious pile on the floor. She could think of nothing but the sensation of his mouth on her lips, her neck, her breasts, between her legs.
If she had thought Sebastian had given her pleasure before, their previous encounters were nothing like the first time he made love to her. She experienced his body, as well as her own, in new, thrilling ways. No one had told her about this most sensual side of romance; it was a secret she’d had to discover for herself. And who better than her own husband to help her?
She clung to his lean, strong shoulders, her fingertips pressing into his back. He moved gently at first, watching her carefully. Then, as she melted into waves of pleasure, he became more ardent, kissing her deeply as they moved together, pressing desperately into her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and arched her back, yearning for what she knew was coming. She felt it mo
unting from deep within her center.
“Sebastian!” The voice hardly registered as hers, so full of eager need. “Sebastian, please!” One of her hands flew from his back in the throes of ecstasy and landed clenched among the blankets. She heard herself make sounds that would have embarrassed her if she had it in her power to care. Sebastian responded with a last burst of passion that sent him over the edge.
He growled her name. Every muscle in his body tensed and relaxed. He leaned forward, kissed her, pressed his forehead against hers. Eliza gazed into his eyes, and though her vision swam with the aftereffects of climax, she saw, like always, that they were stunningly beautiful.
“Now it seems ridiculous to have waited so long,” Sebastian remarked a minute later. He had disentangled them and lay on his back beside her, one arm wrapped warmly around her waist. “We could have been doing that every night.”
Eliza laughed sleepily. “I don’t know that I could handle every night.” She kissed his chest, stroked his taut stomach with her fingertips. “I must say, Lord Dain, your reputation is well deserved.”
