Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
S ebastian cradled his wife in the dull glow of dawn and tried to imagine what had brought his life to this point. In truth, he had abandoned his plan of forcing her to annul the marriage a long time ago—it had merely taken him until that moment to come to terms with what it meant.
Forever. The golden band on her finger bound to him, and now he had given in and consummated the marriage, there could be no changing that. If she drew away from him now, it would not be to leave the marriage and start afresh.
The thought brought relief with it, so potent he could taste it, and he brushed her hair back from her slumbering face. The future was not at all guaranteed, of course, but now he had acknowledged that something lay between them, he did not have to force himself to let her go.
It was a foolish plan to begin with. Now they had come this far, he could admit that much to himself. Imagining she would be prepared to annul the marriage when, he now saw, she had done everything in her power to bring them closer together.
That had worked far better than his plan ever had.
He chuckled to himself. The fear of loss that never left him had not gone entirely, but it had faded. She could not leave now. Not without a divorce, and he knew she would not attempt something so difficult and scandalous.
His. He relished the thought.
She stirred a little, eyes opening in the dim light and fixing on him.
“Sebastian. You stayed.” Her lips curved up. “I didn’t know if you would.”
“From now on, you will join me in my bed at nights,” he said, and her smile widened. “I have had my fill of sleeping alone.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I gave up fighting a battle lost long ago.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. “I do not know how to be a good husband, but I will try.”
“You need nothing more than this. Be with me. Stay with me. Wake with me in the mornings and fall asleep at night.”
A simple task.
“You told me once that we would find a way of healing one another,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder. “And you asked me to open my heart to you.”
“Alone, together,” she whispered.
“I am not an expert at this. It’s been a long time since I last attempted openness, but…” He hesitated, unsure how much of himself to give. “I’m tired of being alone.”
“You don’t have to be.” She smiled up at him, naked and lovely, and his chest cracked with how much he adored her. She had crept into his heart so silently, he hadn’t known she had made inroads, and now he did not think he could easily dig her out. “You have me. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Although he had known that, hearing the words relaxed something inside him, and he leaned over her to kiss her again. “Then neither am I, wife,” he said against her mouth. “Tell me, how do you feel?”
“Happy. And sore.” Her eyes sparkled up at him. “Though not too sore to try again, if you were of that mind.”
“Are you not tired?”
“I can sleep when I’m dead.”
He laughed, loud and surprised, and rolled her onto her back. “Well then, wife,” he said, smiling down at her face. He had not felt like this in years—light, a hot air balloon filled to its brim and rising into the air.
I’m happy , he realized with a start. And to think, all he had needed to do was sleep with his wife.
No, it was more than that. All he had needed to do was accept that she was a permanent fixture in his life. Once he had come to terms with it, everything else had followed.
“You are insatiable,” he cooed, nuzzling her cheek. He bit her lower lip, swallowing her gasp, then spread her legs. “I love it.”
Eleanor had not known it was possible to be this happy.
Sebastian walked beside her in the gardens, plucking an early rose and handing it to her with a bow and a flourish.
“If you had ever been of an inclination to flirt, you would have been a dreadful one,” she said with a laugh, accepting it.
“I was always of an inclination to flirt. Do you not remember the first time we met?”
She flushed. She had given altogether too much thought to the time they had first met. The way he had approached her, the dare she had uttered, and the way he had matched it effortlessly. His charm.
“I thought you were a different person when we first married,” she admitted. “I wanted to know how to find that man again.”
“The flirt?” He arched a brow.
“Does not every wife desire to be flirted with?”
“I know not. I only have the one.” He looked down at her and trailed a finger along her rosy cheeks. “Tell me, did you think of that kiss as often as I did?”
“You thought of it?”
“I tried not to.” His expression turned grave. “For a long time… you must know that I did not marry out of a wish to.”
“ Yes ,” she said dryly, a slight morsel of hurt stabbing through her.
He caught her expression and drew her closer, a possessive hand on her waist. A bee hummed nearby, coming to investigate the rose she still held. “I did not want to marry anyone ,” he emphasized. “And you know why. My luck has not been… good. So I thought that if I didn’t care for you, things would be easier.”
Her heart, which had fallen into her boots, now rose and fluttered. “But you do care?”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “What do you think?”
“I think I would like to hear you say it.”
“Very well.” He hesitated, and she could see the way the words weighed on him. But then he looked down at her, a small smile on his face. “I do care. While I resisted your charms, I did my best not to think of that kiss, but I ended up thinking of nothing more.” He bent his head to her neck, and Eleanor prayed there were no gardeners to see them. “I thought about the way you smelled. The way you tasted. The sounds you made.” His lips brushed up the column of her throat to her jaw. “And it made me want nothing more than to do it again.”
Oh Lord. Her knees felt weak. She had now lain with her husband and she knew how it felt to have all of him—but he was right. She was insatiable.
She was happy .
“There,” she murmured in response. “This was the husband I hoped I’d receive.”
“Then brace yourself.” He nipped at her lower lip. “There is a great deal more of it to come.”
Eleanor stared at the letter in her hands, fingers trembling as she read the words written across it in a neat script. She’d forgotten all about writing to Lady Lydia—forgotten, that was, until the butler placed this letter before her.
Dear Duchess, it ran.
I thank you for your letter, and I confess that reading it nearly brought me to tears. That period of my life is one I reflect on with great shame, and I would be delighted if I could meet with dear Sebastian to resolve our past misunderstandings. I do not want him to go through life thinking that I never cared for him, because that would both grieve me deeply and be grossly incorrect. There are many things I have to say. Would you be so good as to facilitate the meeting? I know my behavior then did not reflect well on me, and no doubt led Sebastian to believe things about himself that are untrue.
Thank you, my dear Duchess, and may I congratulate you on your husband. He is a man well won.
Lady Lydia
Eleanor stared at the letter blankly for long moments. This missive, unlike the notes Sebastian had kept, was not perfumed, but she could imagine the scent, anyway.
Of course Lady Lydia was still in love with Sebastian. That fact seemed as obvious as the nose on her face. No doubt a simple misunderstanding had brought about their separation, and both parties spent a few long years regretting it.
She glanced across the table at Sebastian, who now breakfasted with her as a matter of course, having risen from her bed a mere hour or so previously. At her attention, he lowered his newspaper and raised his brows.
“Anything interesting, my dear?”
Things had changed between them, and for the good. He had finally seemed as though he began to trust she would be around as long as he wanted her to.
But Lady Lydia… When Eleanor had written, she had not felt the surge of jealousy that she felt now. She had not been so certain then that Lady Lydia loved Sebastian, or even that she ought to worry if Sebastian loved her. Yet he had kept her letters, and though he had been kind to Eleanor now, treated her body as though he worshiped it, she could not help but be reminded of the fact that he had not told her he loved her.
She doubted he did love her.
She could not say the same about Lady Lydia.
If he knew Lady Lydia regretted the way they ended things and perhaps even wanted to rekindle their romance, would he say no? Eleanor couldn’t be certain. Her hand quivered around the letter. After everything she had done to win him over, she could not risk losing him now.
“Nothing interesting,” she said lightly. “Merely a letter from one of my half-sisters.”
“I will not have them in the house.”
“Then I shall remind her of that fact.” Eleanor folded the letter up very small and put it in the tiny pocket sewn into her dress. She would consign it to the fire later. Perhaps there was unfinished business between Sebastian and Lady Lydia, but as far as Eleanor was concerned, it would have to remain unfinished. The fear of being cast aside after learning to care for her husband so deeply was, though selfish, too terrifying a thought for her to ponder presently.
“Have you any other plans two days’ hence?” he asked suddenly.
“Two days? No. I don’t think we have any prior engagements.”
“And you are not intending to see your friend?”
“Miss Ashby? No.” Eleanor frowned at Sebastian, her heart thudding in her chest from the letter and the feeling of dread that had come with it. “Why? Are you trying to get me out of the house?”
“Not in the slightest.” He smiled, and Eleanor was suddenly, forcibly, reminded of the man who had first spoken to her at the masquerade, all teasing good fun and charm. “I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise ?” Eleanor expelled a breath in delight, the feeling of dread lessening a touch. If he still cared for Lady Lydia, would he go out of his way to provide surprises for her? “What is it?”
“You’ll see.” He grinned. “But I think you will enjoy it.”
It transpired that Sebastian’s surprise lay at the Tower of London, something that Eleanor had never taken time out to see, although she had read about it briefly in her history books.
“Why are we here?” she asked, her arm tucked in Sebastian’s. “So we may see where former kings and queens were beheaded?”
“A gory thought. No.” He steered her to the right of the three towers by the principal entrance. “We are here to see the royal menagerie. This is the lions’ tower, and inside are all manner of animals.”
Eleanor gasped. “Is it true there are lions here?”
“Not just lions.” He waved a hand at a keeper, who came forward to accept his two shillings. “I believe there are also leopardesses, and tigers, and a spotty raccoon.”
“A raccoon?” She laughed, delighted despite herself. Her love of animals extended to the exotic, but she had never thought to come here, and she would never have asked. In fact, if Sebastian had not proposed and organized the trip, she might have thought it beneath him. Yet, as they moved through the lions’ tower, taking in the different animals, she could not help but notice the look of intense interest on his face as they listened to the keeper’s explanations of the different creatures and where they had arrived from. Miss Fanny was a lioness so ferocious that the keepers had to be careful not to lose an arm, and there was also Miss Peggy, a black leopardess, with dark fur and spots of deeper darkness. Eleanor thought she was the most beautiful animal she had ever seen.
They were not the only visitors. The king’s menagerie was evidently a place that many people visited out of curiosity or wonder, although many of these visitors were foreigners to the city or the middle class, enjoying a day out in style.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said, looking up into his face as they moved on from the large, unsettling wolf, its intelligent eyes following them from the room. “How did you know I would like it?”
“I had a sneaking suspicion.” He grinned down at her, and she marveled—not for the first time—how disarmingly handsome he was when he smiled at her like that. “Have you had enough?”
“Yes, thank you.” She slipped her arm through his and they emerged back into the sunlight at the end of the tour. Her heart soared, and for a moment she thought nothing could be more wonderful than this day with her husband.
A lady emerged from the wall as they left the Tower’s walls. She wore a dress of flowered muslin caught high above her waist, and the prettiest bonnet Eleanor had ever seen. She was, beyond all doubt, the most beautiful lady she had laid eyes on.
Lady Lydia.
The other lady’s blond curls bobbed around her face as she started forward, delight evident on her face as she beheld Sebastian. Eleanor’s stomach felt as though it dropped out from underneath her.
She had never given Sebastian Lady Lydia’s note. And she most definitely hadn’t given the other woman their location and permission to come and approach them.
Not that Lady Lydia needed permission, it seemed.
“Sebastian, dearest!” she chimed, coming up to them both and not so much as sparing Eleanor a glance. Any thoughts Eleanor might have had about this being a good thing, resolving old trauma, vanished almost immediately. “It has been too long. A veritable age.” She rested her hand on Sebastian’s arm, and although Eleanor wished he’d shake it off, he just stared at her, stunned.
“Lydia.” He appeared to gather himself and turned, dropping her arm as he looked at Eleanor. “This is my wife, Eleanor. Eleanor, meet…” He cleared his throat. “Lady Lydia.”
“Wife!” Lady Lydia’s laugh tinkled. “Someone said you had married but I couldn’t believe it was true.”
“It is. I’m a married man now.” He patted Eleanor’s hand, but she wasn’t sure if it was a gesture of affection or a silent request for her to remain silent. “It is a recent affair.”
“I saw the announcement in the paper. Quite a sudden thing, too.” She smiled and took Sebastian’s other arm. “But I have to say, I am delighted to have met you again after all this time.”
“It is a long time,” he said neutrally.
“Have you been to see the animals? I couldn’t do it.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “Although I’m sure you must have had a good time.” A note in her voice indicated that she did not, in fact, think such a thing. “Are you staying in town? Please say you’ll have tea with us. Both of you, of course.” For the first time, she looked directly at Eleanor. “I am so sure we can be good friends.”
Eleanor did her best to suppress the worm of jealousy that wiggled its way up her throat at the idea of spending more time with this woman. She liked to think of herself as level-headed, but there was nothing she liked less than the prospect of watching another lady flirt with her husband.
A lady whom he used to love.
But Sebastian seemed oblivious to her thoughts or her disinclination to go.
“We have no other plans,” he said. “We’d be delighted to.”
“Oh, wonderful! My house is not far from here, as it happens. We could walk.”
He inclined his head a little. “Of course. I’ll inform my coachman. You ladies set off without me.”
Eleanor watched him stride back to the coachman—a new one who seemed reasonably competent, at least—and her heart pinched a little.
“Thank you so much for writing to me,” Lady Lydia whispered, slipping her arm through Eleanor’s. “I confess, it was such a relief to hear from you. I was quite worried for him, you know. I thought a fit of madness might have overcome him.” She laughed, tipping her head back as though she had said something terribly funny. “I don’t mean to be rude, forgive me.”
“Why would you think madness had overcome him?” Eleanor asked stiffly.
“Well, he has never been one to rush into things, and I know that his proposal to you was not one made after courtship. I would have known, you see.” She said the words carelessly, but Eleanor knew what lay behind them.
She would have known, because she had been keeping a close watch on the Duke.
“I was a foo l, when I was younger I mean to say,” Lady Lydia said with a sigh. “I loved him, but he was hurting in ways that I could not quite entertain, and I ended things with him. He was quite distraught over it all.”
Eleanor thought about the letters she had found. The coldness in the latter few, and the lingering perfume.
The fact he had kept those letters despite everything.
“We were young, yes, but we were very much in love. That was another reason I was startled by your sudden marriage. Not only had he not courted you, but I am intimately familiar with his tastes, and while I am certain many gentlemen prefer darker hair, Sebastian has always complimented me on my fair hair.” She sighed wistfully. “It surprised me, that was all, that he would choose you when you are not his ordinary style.”
Another rush of uncertainty flooded Eleanor, swelling in her throat until she had to take a breath past the obstruction. Sebastian had certainly appeared satisfied with her of late, but he had never said anything about marrying her for her beauty.
And who could compare to Lady Lydia? No woman could.
“But you are very pretty,” Lady Lydia said in a rallying tone. “And I have no doubt that now he has come around to dusky curls like yours. I would not wish to do anything to stand in your way—all I want to do is speak to him about our past and clear the air. He must know how much I regret behaving the way I did, and that it was entirely my fault and not any fault of his. You see why that would be a good thing for him to hear, don’t you?” She blinked big, blue eyes at Eleanor, who swallowed back the acidic words brewing in her chest.
Of course she understood. Of course she knew the importance of having someone who abandoned Sebastian explain the reasons why, and how it did not pertain to him not being enough.
She just wished— oh how she wished —that person was not Lady Lydia.