Oblivious to the entire exchange, Charlotte poured him a cup of tea. “You’re just in time for a game of loo. I’ve decided it the perfect game for a rainy afternoon.”
He reached for the offered tea. “I mean no offense, but I’m not much of a loo player.”
Crestfallen, she pleaded with Drake in a single glance.
Drake wrapped his arm about her shoulders and said, “I’m anxious to have an audience with Hazel regarding the upcoming dinner party. Why don’t you entertain us at the pianoforte, dear wife?” He purred. “You have such extraordinary skill.”
Glad for a hot liquid after the sharp rain, Sebastian savored his tea while Charlotte and Drake argued with furtive glances. He hoped Charlotte would take Drake’s suggestion, for while he wouldn’t find a more intimate setting than a room full of onlookers, at least he could speak with Lizbeth without being overheard.
Lizbeth appeared as anxious as he felt. She fidgeted with the embroidery on her dress, circling the embossed thread with one finger then the next. They exchanged glances.
Time slowed. He could hear the tick of the mantel clock.
Another sip of tea. Then another.
With a huff, Charlotte marched to the pianoforte at the opposite end of the room. Drake missed not a beat, pulling his chair next to the baroness and launching into discussion without acknowledging either Lizbeth or Sebastian. Subtlety was never one of Drake’s assets. Matchmaking cad.
Lizbeth cast him a knowing look before retreating to one of the far windows.
He was about to follow when the sway of her hips gave him pause. The dress clung enticingly to her curves, snug around the hips, loose down to the ankles, sending a renewed wave of warmth through his body.
He remained seated, feeling conspicuous, though no one paid him any mind. Through the last dregs of his tea, he willed himself into submission. Did she have to look so damned alluring? So damned kissable? Stunning came to mind as an apt description of her.
The dress color showcased the auburn of her hair, and he knew without having to see that it would enhance the color of her eyes. Green suited her. His stomach knotted; his muscles tensed; his loins burned.
He continued to sit, teacup in hand, as he steadied his nerves and tried to think about politics instead of kissing her. The last time he had spoken to her, she had been in his arms, her lips reddened by his.
Ah! This would not do. An entire summer spent thinking of nothing but her had left him depraved. He refocused his mind, imagining the House of Lords and white wigs. Political thoughts doused him in metaphorical cold water. Don’t think about her lips. Don’t think about her hips. White wigs. White wigs. White wigs.
Confident he had himself under control, he returned his cup and saucer to the tray and approached her.
She stared at the gray backdrop outside. The sky had turned even blacker than when he arrived.
“I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon,” he said in way of greeting. “I presume you’ll stay until November?”
“We’re planning to stay for only a month, actually,” she admitted.
Her words sank in. One month. Did he have only one month in which to act?
“Only one month? But the journey roundtrip takes as long as that.”
One month wouldn’t possibly be enough time. It would take three weeks to have the banns read, assuming she said yes, of course, leaving only one week, this week, in which to woo her, and he was already down one day because of Drake’s delayed message.
One week wouldn’t work at all. He had to make amends for London, build her trust, proceed with an official courtship, and finally propose, all before the three weeks of banns. In a pinch, he could get a special license, but even that would take several days since it would involve riding all the way to London and back.
He didn’t even know if she would reconsider her plan to remain a spinster, much less accept him as a suitor. He needed time. At least two months, maybe three.
Devil take it.
“The trip here is long and the visit short, but it’s worth it for someone I love,” she said, her meaning cryptic.
His breath hitched.
Don’t be foolish, he scolded himself. She meant her sister, of course, not him.
“Ah, yes, I understand,” he responded, feeling dim-witted.
“Do you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
He raised his eyebrows in return. Attempting to sound articulate and focused, he clarified, “I know you share a close relationship with your sister. Why not stay longer?”
God, she was beautiful. Had she been this stunning in London, or had the summer in Cornwall brightened her beauty?
“Charlotte asked me to visit so that I might help her with a project. She is busy with her fetes and socials, so we shan’t overstay our welcome. But she needed me, and so here I am. I have to confess I think my aunt has been of more service than I have been.” She laughed. “It might seem silly to come all this way for only one month, but loved ones are the most important people in my life. I will always place their happiness before my own, because, in a way, their happiness is my happiness. Don’t you agree?”
His chest tightened. Her words, regardless of how poetic, left an acrid taste in his mouth, for their meaning unearthed his loneliness, his bitterness about his life. If only she meant those words for him. No one had ever felt that way about him.
His voice strained, he replied, “I would like to think that I, too, would do anything, but I have no experience on which to base an answer.”
A crease formed between her eyebrows. “You’ve never known love, not even from family?” she inquired, her tone both sorrowful and curious.
He shook his head. This was not the conversation he had anticipated. All his plans to talk of traveling, poetry, and politics, and she wanted to talk about love and family. Part of him wanted to take this opportunity to turn the tide in his favor in preparation for courtship, but her words of a loving family resonated too close to his demons, striking the deepest chords of his soul.
When he spoke, his voice was throaty, guttural. “My life has been tumultuous, my family built on obedience and status. I admire that you would do so much for your sister’s happiness. I am envious.”
After studying him, she turned back to the window, deep in thought. The rain lessened its beating against the glass to a patter, the sound competing against the sonata on the pianoforte.
He wondered what it would be like to be loved by such a woman, to have her console him when he suffered the nightmares, to stand by him when he slipped into the depressions. Would he even suffer from terror or sorrow with her by his side, filling his world with the pure light of happiness?
With a mischievous grin, she looked back to him, her eyes no longer shadowed, but twinkling with silent laughter. “Come to think of it, aren’t we officially family now? What would we be, cousins-in-law?” she said, her cheeks tinted pink.
Relieved by the redirection of the conversation, he returned her grin. “I’d be an extended family member, at best. A distant and extended cousin-in-law of no actual relation.”
She laughed. “Oh, Sebastian. You’re such a dear friend. I want you to know I would do just as much for you as I would do for my sister. All you need is to ask.”
Rain be damned, he was glad he had come. Hope soared, and his heart pounded. Was this his cue? Should he mention courtship now? No, not yet. He wanted to go about it properly by asking her father permission, or in the absence of Mr. Trethow, by asking Hazel.
He stood in spellbound silence, admiring her, memorizing her. Outside, the rain continued to soften, the black clouds moving swiftly west.
“I hope you didn’t have long to travel in this storm,” he said, clearing his throat. “When I received notice this morning of your arrival, the storm was well underway. No carriage is safe in muddy conditions or with limit
ed visibility.”
“Much safer riding through the storm on horseback, then?” She teased.
He flashed her a provocative smile, “I felt it worth the risk.”
He ached to kiss her and be done with the pretense. Knowing they would be forced to marry if he kissed her now in front of all, he was sorely tempted, especially considering his shortened timeframe. Trapping her would be the worse way to win his suit, though. He couldn’t do that to her. This had to be her choice, her decision to set aside dreams of independence to shackle herself to him.
What if, after all, she didn’t want to marry him? What if she only wanted to flirt without commitment, as he had once wanted to do? What if she wanted to initiate a physical relationship without marriage, as he had once wanted? He needed to test the waters before he asked permission to court her.
“I’m not happy you risked your safety, but I am glad to see you.” Lizbeth peeked at him askance. “Our letters don’t do our conversations justice. Incidentally, though, we arrived yesterday morning, not today.”
“That sly rat,” Sebastian grumbled.
“Oh, dear. Who?” she asked.
“Drake. He promised to send notice when you were due to arrive.” Sebastian bit his tongue for saying that aloud and seeming overly eager.
He leaned, unrefined, against the blue wallpaper next to the window. The coat stretched uncomfortably against his shoulder.
“That man is most vexing.” She visibly bristled.
“Agreed, but I assume he had his reasons for waiting.”
“It’s not only that.” Lizbeth’s spine straightened, upright and rigid. “I’ll have you know, he announced to all the world yesterday of our correspondences. Never mind that it is true. He had no business saying it to a room full of my family, especially given what it implies.” Liz pursed her lips and glared in Drake’s direction.
“He means well, however vexing. I apologize on his behalf if he embarrassed you.”
“He gave everyone the impression we’ve come to an understanding. You know as well as I do it’s inappropriate for people not betrothed to correspond, and then I was called on the rug for doing just that. The very idea,” she scoffed. “I suppose no one has heard of the word friends.”
“Yes, I can see why you’d be embarrassed. It would be the height of embarrassment for others to think us secretly betrothed.” He winked, making light of it.
“That’s not at all what I’m saying, and you know it. Don’t be a tease. We are friends, nothing more, and that man could have put us in a sticky wicket.”
Sebastian frowned. This was not the answer for which he’d been waiting. Friends, nothing more. Her words relayed only one message.
She didn’t want him.
In that moment, his world crumbled. How had he misread the signals so abysmally? Her flirtation belied her attraction, but she must not want marriage, not even to him. Friends, nothing more. Why flirt with him, then? All his elation of her arrival drained. He felt empty. A cold shell. She didn’t want him.
“I pity Charlotte for being married to such a louse,” she continued, oblivious to his turmoil.
Until he had time to think, Sebastian didn’t want to continue their conversation, much less talk about his cousin or her sister, but what else could he do? “Charlotte doesn’t seem all that poor from my vantage point.”
The lady in question ended the sonata she’d been playing.
Liz waited for Charlotte to resume playing before continuing. “He doesn’t love her. He makes that clear enough. I’ve only been here one day, and I can already see there is no love in this house.”
“What has love to do with an aristocratic marriage? Marriages of their kind are political, nothing more than a career move. Since when do you place romanticism on a marriage of convenience?”
A marriage between them wouldn’t be like that—convenient and loveless. If only she’d give him a chance. If only he could convince her to take the leap. But he couldn’t make her love him. Nothing he could do or say would make her return his affection or accept his proposal, see him as more than a friend.
“Just because my sister is a duchess doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve love,” she insisted. “He’s trapped her in a miserable marriage.”
“Slow down.” Sebastian held up his hands. “Where do you see misery? I don’t approve of all Drake’s decisions, but he’s not the enemy. Drake is a better man than you imagine. He has a way of seeing the world and seeing people for who they are and speaking truths no one wants to hear. I value his candor, even if he does tend to put his foot in his mouth.”
“None of those characteristics give him the right to abuse my sister.”
“I’ve never known him to be abusive, verbally or otherwise. He puts on airs, but he is a deeply emotional person. If I had to describe him in a word, aside from insufferable, I would say he’s a lover. Has your sister given him any indication his love would be welcome?” Sebastian couldn’t believe he was defending the cad.
“He is nothing more than a shallow, vain oaf. All at the sake of my sister.” She stiffened, her feathers ruffled.
“I believe you mistake his vanity. He acts spoiled, which comes from both his title and his mother, but he is a passionate man who wants love as much as you claim your sister does. He wouldn’t assume she’d accept his love, though. His upbringing has not seen marriage synonymous with love, only convenience, so from his perspective, both he and Charlotte got exactly what they wanted. Charlotte wanted a title, and he wanted a wife. Their dreams have come true. Where does love enter into this if neither made that clear during courtship? How would he know he could have the love he wants from his own wife if she hasn’t told him?”
“She shouldn’t have to tell her own husband the obvious,” Liz defended. “A wife shouldn’t have to beg for her husband’s affection or his attention. I’ve seen this time and again with friends. They marry and then get tossed in a cupboard, another possession. Drake is no different than every other husband. He is ignoring her and carrying on with his—his affairs. He hasn’t given her an opportunity or reason to express her love.”
“Not to lessen your sister’s pain, but has she given him any indication she wants his love? How would he know she wants more than the title? If he believes she’s happy with the title, then offering her unwanted affection could tip the scales, causing an uncomfortable marriage. You forget that aristocratic marriages consist of women who are raised only to be dutiful to their position and their husband, avoiding intimacy of any kind. Your sister might be surprised to discover he too wants love but assumes he would never find it from his wife, and thus will never tip the scales without provocation.”
In a fashion, he spoke of his own desire to love Lizbeth and be loved by her, if only she would give him some encouragement that such was possible, but he doubted she would read between his words. She was angry on behalf of her sister, angry at Drake for embarrassing her, and angry at the whole institute of marriage. None of this would help his cause.
He searched her eyes for clues to her thoughts, any indication that she may be receptive to him. Surely, they weren’t just speaking of his cad of a cousin and her priss of a sister.
The crease between her eyebrows softened, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I didn’t mean to snap at you, Sebastian. I’ve been so looking forward to seeing you, yet look how dreadfully I behave.” She gifted him a half-smile. “I’ve been so afraid of being trapped in a loveless marriage all I see in Drake is my worst fears realized.”
Sebastian scratched his chin. “But you would never marry someone like Drake.”
“It’s not so much the choice of man that’s the problem, but that any man could reduce me to a possession and tuck me away for his convenience. I look at the life my sister is living and see my fear realized through her. I could only ever be with a man who includes
me in all aspects of his life, who talks to me and never shuts me out, someone who trusts me enough to share himself even if he worries it would tip the scales, as you say. And thus, I’m prejudiced regarding my sister’s situation.”
He stood in stunned silence. He couldn’t be sure if she still spoke only of her sister or if she knowingly spoke of a potential union with him, but her words struck his heart like a sharpened dart.
In some small way, her words should fill him with renewed hope. She wasn’t opposed to marriage, then, not entirely, just a marriage wherein there was distance and inequality. Her words should renew all hope he’d lost moments ago. Alas, they deepened his sorrow.
How could he ever offer her happiness? He could claim as the day was long that what he offered was uninterrupted, unconditional love, but how many times had he already shut her out, and how many times would he do so again? Not even he could promise it wouldn’t happen again. It would take far more than a week to earn her trust, and it would take a lifetime to strategize a way to keep her happy while maintaining a lengthy distance between her and his past.
He was waging a losing war to win her love.
“Don’t look so forlorn, Sebastian. You look as though you’ve been thrown under the carriage wheels. I didn’t mean to insult your cousin, merely his lack of communication with my sister.” She brushed a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.
“You haven’t offended me,” he reassured, feigning a smile. “I’ve simply been reminded of something I had pushed to the back of my mind.”
He folded his arms across his chest.
Dawning gradually lit her eyes before she cast him a devilish smile. “Oh. Oh, I see. Now, don’t be coy. You were recalling the masquerade dinner, weren’t you? The ‘misunderstanding’ we had about coincidences and legends, yes?”
He furrowed his brows. “Something like that.”
“Don’t be terribly upset about that. We sorted the confusion, and look at us now, friends to the end. And it’s not as though you’re considering me as anything more than a friend, so don’t take my words to heart.”
The Earl and The Enchantress (An Enchantress Novel Book 1) Page 16
