Hope of Romance

by Ellie St. Clair

  Sebastian reached for her, but she pushed him away, shaking her head. Her eyes filled with tears and, and even though he called out to her, she wouldn’t listen. Apparently his rejection had been too severe. Without another word, she ran from the room, leaving him standing entirely alone.

  23

  Polly was angry as she stormed around her room, ripping clothing out of her wardrobe and throwing it onto the bed for Lucy to help her pack. She did somewhat regret her reaction to Sebastian’s dismissal. It had only proven to him the childishness he had already indirectly accused her of. It had been foolish to hurry out of the room away from him, especially when there had been so much more to say. When he had taken her in his arms, when he had seared her skin with his touch, what she had felt growing within her had both terrified and excited her.

  She yearned for more of Sebastian — of his thoughts, his words, his touch, his love – and yet, he would not give it to her.

  Deep inside, on reflection, she realized that she ought to appreciate that he had been so careful with her, that he had not given in to the passion she had seen growing in his eyes. Instead, he had wanted to keep her safe, had wanted to treat her honorably and with the respect she deserved.

  How strange it was to be so desperate to throw such kindness and loyalty to the wind, to be so frantic for more of him so as to push it all to one side. Now she knew the difference in what she felt for him and had for Lord Yardley. For she had pushed away a passionate kiss from the rotter, while with Sebastian she would have given him anything he wanted.

  Her suggestion that they marry had not been one made in haste, for she could think of no better solution to her current situation than that. It would mean that she would not have to return to London, although it might confirm what had been suggested about her and Sebastian by Lord Yardley. That, at least, gave her pause. She did not want to bring any kind of disgrace to the family name. Her mother’s letter had been frantic with worry, devastated that the one man they had trusted to care for Polly was, in fact, the man who had treated her ill. Her mother had mentioned that Polly’s father had dismissed the rumors at once, which Polly had been glad to hear, and she had responded almost immediately. Polly had made sure to let her mother know that Lord Taylor had been nothing but respectable, promising her that all was well and that she had not been ruined in the least.

  And, right at the bottom, she had told her mother that she would be returning to London by the beginning of next week, alongside Lord Taylor.

  Only a moment ago, she had rung for the butler and handed him the letter. The moment he left with her correspondence, she began to regret writing of her return, for now she had no choice. She had considered whether she ought to chase after the butler and retrieve it.

  “No, I will not,” she murmured to herself, lifting her chin and watching the steam from the teapot rise into the air. “I will trust Sebastian and go to London. Lord Yardley must see that I am not to be intimidated.”

  “Speaking to yourself again?”

  Violet’s head peeked around the door of the drawing room and, seeing Polly’s surprised expression, she laughed and came into the room.

  “Are you quite all right, sister? I saw that you had given a letter to the butler.”

  Polly nodded, her shoulders set. “Yes, I have. I have written to Mama to inform her that I will be returning to London with Sebastian at the beginning of next week.”

  The smile slid from Violet’s face. “Oh?”

  “Sebastian says he has a plan,” Polly replied, with a slight shrug. “And, given that I cannot hide here any longer, I have decided that I must trust him.”

  “But to go into the fray with the man who has been accused of ruining you is quite something,” Violet exclaimed, just as the door opened behind her. “What is it that Taylor intends to do?”

  “What is this?” Greville asked, coming into the room and sitting down by his wife, reaching to ring the bell for another tea tray. “What has Taylor done now?”

  “Nothing,” Polly replied, with a small smile, only she knowing the absolute truth to her words. He had done nothing at all. “He intends to take me back to London next week, and I have agreed to go. I wrote to my mother only just now to inform her of my return.”

  Greville nodded slowly, his expression grave. “Going to meet the rumors head-on, are you? Good for you. I hate the gossip mongers, it must be said. What is it Taylor intends to do about the rumors? After all, they now encompass you both.”

  Polly opened her mouth only to snap it closed, shaking her head. “I am not quite sure,” she replied truthfully. “He has asked me to trust him, and so I will.”

  “Something I am very grateful for,” came Sebastian’s reply as he entered the room just behind the maid carrying another tea tray. He gave Polly a long, searching look. “You have decided to come with me, then?”

  Polly found that she could not meet his gaze, aware that they had not spoken since their encounter only yesterday. “I think I must,” she replied, not sure where to look. “I have realized that what you said was reasonable, Sebastian. Remaining here would mean that gossip and rumor would be spread about me all through London, not to mention blackening your own name in the process.”

  “Not that I care much about that,” Sebastian replied, gently. “I have always intended to return to my country seat regardless of what occurs in London.”

  The ache in her heart grew as she thought of being in London – or anywhere – without him. “Regardless, I must think of what would be best for everyone, and that even includes my own mother and father. My father may be a duke, but to have such rumors attached to him is more than I could bear. I will not allow Lord Yardley to bring shame to my family simply because he did not win his ridiculous bet. And I will not allow Yardley to ruin another. ” Fire ignited in her belly as she lifted her chin, looking directly into Sebastian’s eyes. “I will come back to London with you, Sebastian. Whatever it is you have planned, I will go along with it.”

  “I am heartily glad to hear it,” he replied, coming to sit down opposite her. “And I must thank you for putting your trust in me, Polly. I swear I will not let you down.”

  “I should have trusted what you told me weeks ago,” she said. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  The silence lengthened as they stared at one another, until finally Lord Greville cleared his throat, looking over at Violet. “We shall come with you both, of course.”

  Polly nodded, trying to smile as she attempted to push away the anxiety she felt about returning to London. “That is not necessary.”

  “I insist. I don’t think Violet could stand being here, not knowing what was occurring in London.”

  “He is quite right,” Violet added. “I would much prefer to be there for you, Polly, and London isn’t that far.”

  “Thank you, Greville, Violet,” Polly responded. “I am sure Mama especially will appreciate your presence and support. She has always trusted you, Violet.”

  Violet laughed, her eyes twinkling. “I suppose she will, though she and I have never exactly seen things in the same light, as I was never one to accede to her wishes. I suppose she realized, in the end, that whatever I thought was best, I would do it regardless. In a way, she had very little choice but to trust me.”

  “I am sure she will be delighted to see you again,” Polly smiled, as Violet got up to pour tea for them all. “So, when do we leave?”

  “In three days’ time,” Sebastian replied, with a forced smile. “All should be in order by then. Have no fear, Polly. Yardley will not be allowed to stand much longer.”

  Unfortunately for Polly, Sebastian’s assurances did not allow her to get much sleep. She tossed and turned, her eyes refusing to remain closed as she pondered what was to happen in her future.

  She would be glad to have her name brought out of disrepute of course, but the thought of returning to London and to society at large brought her no pleasure. She did not want to go to balls and be courted by vario
us gentlemen, for she knew that none of them would stand up to Sebastian. She hated that he would not accept that from her, that he thought she might find another in place of him.

  Sitting upright, Polly was suddenly caught with the thought of what would happen were he not to stay or return to London. She would not be able to prove to him the truth of her feelings. She could not exactly go to visit him alone, which meant she would have to wait for him to either return to London the following year or hope that he might visit her at her father’s country estate. But what if he did not?

  Shaking her head, Polly struggled to think of a way forward, a deep agonizing pain aching in her gut at the thought of not seeing Sebastian again. She had to think of a way to get him to trust her, to believe that what she felt was true.

  “I love him,” she murmured to herself, swinging her legs out of bed and going in search of her wrapper. “Why will he not see it?”

  Lighting a candle or two, she sat by the fireplace, appreciating the warm coals in the grate. Tormented by thoughts of Sebastian leaving her forever, she bit her lip in frustration. She might only have one night, but she had to convince him that there would never be another for her.

  Violet had told her to wait until they got to London to persuade him of how she felt. She might only have one night, but she would do it. He had to accept that there was no other gentleman for her. She would make sure of it.

  24

  “Are you ready?”

  Sebastian tried to put on an encouraging expression as Polly drew in a deep breath, one hand pressed against her midsection.

  “Yes, I think so,” she murmured, looking up at the manor house in front of them through the dark of night. “Sebastian, what have you planned?”

  He smiled, wishing he could hold her close. “Lord Yardley will be revealed for the scoundrel he is,” he replied, as the Duke and Duchess came to stand beside them. “All will be well, I assure you.”

  The Duke cleared his throat, reaching to take Polly’s arm. “Lord Taylor seems to know what he is doing,” he said, gruffly. “Come now. We do not want to keep Lady Whitethorn waiting.”

  Sebastian smiled as the family walked in ahead of him, with Greville and Violet following the Duke, the Duchess, and Polly. He remained behind, aware that to walk in together would start a great many more whispers.

  He stood as he watched her climb the steps, the smooth satin of her pale blue dress fluttering around her, with her blonde curls intricately pinned up. She held her head high despite all that was being whispered about her, and he was ever so proud of her. His gaze caught on her, his heart tripped, and he realized that the affection he had for her was so much more than that. It was admiration, yes, but it was … it was love. Bloody hell, he loved her. He had vowed never to give his heart to another, and yet she had taken it with her light and laughter, the goodness inside her that spilled out to everyone around her.

  A jostle from behind knocked him forward a step, and he realized he had been rooted on the spot as the thoughts jumbled round his mind. He shook his head and began to mount the stairs himself. Just get through this evening, he told himself. Do this one thing for her.

  They had arrived in London earlier that day and, within the hour, Polly had explained all that had occurred between herself and Lord Yardley to her parents. Sebastian had appreciated that she had asked him to remain in the room as she spoke, glad that she was so willing to show her parents that she trusted him. The Duke had, of course, been furious and determined to call Yardley out at once, and the Duchess had dissolved into tears, calling herself a failure for not better protecting her daughter.

  Sebastian had been able to address both of their concerns, coming to stand next to Polly and assuring the Duke that Yardley would publicly be shown to be a scoundrel that very evening, at Lady Whitethorn’s ball. The Duke had pressed him for more details, but Sebastian, knowing that there was too much to explain, had simply asked him to remain at Polly’s side and to come forward when the time arrived. He was grateful for the Duke’s trust in him. The man had even asked him to stay at their London manor for the night, as it meant he would not have to re-open his own home but could return to the countryside in the morning.

  His work had gone well. Those he had relied on to aid him had done more than their fair share, helping him to find his way forward to bring this terrible situation to a close.

  At the same time, Sebastian felt his heart sink with disappointment, knowing that he would return home once things had been brought to an end. There would be no more use for him here. This would be the conclusion of his current case as well as his personal attachment and promise to the Harrington family.

  Polly would remain with her parents in London, and he would go back to his estate to continue his life as usual. She would have a wonderful Season, albeit shorter than she had initially planned, and, in time, he would hear of her engagement, if not her marriage. He knew this love he had for her would never diminish, but what she felt for him might, in time, fade away. He was rather old, rather staid, for such a young, bright thing as she. There would be some suffering and pain for them both, but only for a short time. She would find herself caught up in the attentions of many, many gentlemen, he was sure.

  And still, he could not stop the memory of how she had felt in his arms from surfacing once more, his blood heating as she turned her head to glance at him.

  “Get a hold of yourself, Sebastian,” he muttered aloud, before striding in after them.

  The ballroom was crowded and the orchestra in full swing. He greeted Lady Whitethorn warmly, her wide smile telling him that everything was ready for him.

  “The orchestra knows to expect you,” she murmured, as he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “He is here, by the way.”

  “Good, good,” Sebastian replied, with a quick smile. “And thank you, Lady Whitethorn. This could not have happened without you.”

  The older lady’s smile faded slightly. “If it’s one thing I hate – and I know my husband would have agreed – it’s a gentleman who tries to ruin young ladies simply for his own good pleasure. When I heard my own niece suffered at his hands, I vowed to do all I could. You are doing all of us a favor, Lord Taylor. Thank you for asking me to support you in this.”

  Sebastian nodded, giving her hand a light squeeze before stepping away, grateful that Lady Whitethorn had been so open to the idea. Of course, it helped that he had aided in the return of some priceless jewels a little over a year ago, for she knew he was trustworthy.

  Walking along the balcony, Sebastian chose to remain where he was instead of descending into the ballroom. He saw Polly surrounded by a few ladies who appeared to all be talking at once, including her redheaded friend, Lady Caroline. At least not all had deserted her. Unfortunately, he also saw a great many people whispering behind their hands, pointing boldly in her direction. Rumors had not yet dissipated, it seemed, and yet she seemed determined to ignore them.

  A harsh laugh caught his attention, and his hands tightened on the rail as he saw none other than Lord Yardley standing in the corner, with two other gentlemen by his side. Another hurried over toward him, gesturing wildly. Sebastian watched as Yardley’s smile faded, his expression growing rather astonished. Sebastian would move at once if it seemed Yardley intended to make his way toward Polly but, much to his relief, Yardley shook his head and remained where he was. It was just as Sebastian had hoped. With the Duke standing right next to his daughter, Lord Yardley would not dare approach. After all, he was nothing but a coward.

  The music continued for a good hour or so and, thankfully, Polly did not spend the entire evening standing alone. She danced three times and, at the end of each dance, was returned to her father. However, Sebastian could tell that she was struggling with Lord Yardley’s presence, as well as the fact that whispers were still following her wherever she went. There had been around eight dances thus far, and her rather empty dance card certainly signaled that society as a whole had their doubts about her.
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  It did not matter. All would be revealed soon.

  He began to descend the stairs, turning to the side so that a woman coming up could move past him. He hardly looked at her, his eyes on the people in the ballroom below, but when he felt a hand on his sleeve he stopped.

  “Sebastian, is that you?”

  His head whipped around at the voice. It had been a long while now, and yet he could remember it rather well.

  “Patricia?”

  The years had been kind to the woman, who was still as beautiful as she had ever been. Her dark hair was artfully pulled back, her face carefully made up. He was surprised at the quality of her dress, knowing the man she had married was rather beneath her station.

  “How are you?” he asked, moving back up the stairs with her and out of the path of others.

  “Oh, I am rather well,” she said, looking up at him through her long eyelashes. She placed a hand on his sleeve and moved closer to him.

  “And your husband?” he asked, still in shock at seeing the woman who he once thought he had loved. He had heard she moved out to the country, away from London and all of society.

  “Oh, you have not heard?” she asked, waving a fan in front of her face. “My husband passed last year. Rather unfortunate, to be sure. I have since remarried.”

  He was taken aback by her words. He had thought her to be in love with her husband, yet she spoke of his death as if it was hardly an issue.

  “I am very sorry,” he said, softly.

  “Not at all,” she said with a shrug. “As it turned out, I was not as much in love with him as I thought.” She gave a bit of a laugh. “I thought it was so romantic, running off to Gretna Green to marry a man my parents disapproved of. And, it seemed they were right. I much preferred the comforts that could be provided by a man of means, and I learned my lesson. Marrying without a dowry was rather stupid. Not only could my husband not provide for me in life, but neither in death.”