His Temporary Duchess (Dukes Ever After #5)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

S ebastian followed Lydia into the drawing room he had once been invited to almost daily. That had been a long time ago, so distant in his past that he could barely remember it. The pain of losing her at the time had felt as though it might swallow him whole, but he supposed that time truly did ease all hurt.

Or perhaps it was newfound happiness that did that. Once, he had brooded over losing Lady Lydia near-nightly, wondering which of his faults had finally driven her away. Wondering, in truth, if he was unlovable.

Now he knew that not to be the case.

Still, when they had such a shared past, it seemed foolish not to give into it at least a little.

“Here,” she said, pouring him and Eleanor some tea. “You see, not so much has changed since you were last here.”

So much had changed, but he looked around and noted that the room still kept its pleasing aesthetic, and sipped his tea.

“Do you play the pianoforte?” Lydia asked Eleanor. “My mother makes me practice daily, but I’m afraid I have no affinity for the instrument.” She smiled. “You look as though you have musicality running through your bones.”

Eleanor glanced at Sebastian, who nodded. He’d heard Eleanor playing often enough, and it was an excellent opportunity to show off her skills.

“Why don’t you play for us?” he suggested, pleased he had a wife whom he could brag about. And especially pleased that before Lydia of all people, she had this advantage. “It would be lovely to hear you.”

Her face curiously set, Eleanor rose and made her way to the instrument. She exhaled as she looked down at the keys, then began to play, melody flowing from her fingers like water.

“She is a lovely player,” Lydia said, looking across the room. “I thought she would be. But that was not why I asked her to go. I wanted to speak with you privately, Sebastian. To talk about the past.”

“There is nothing to say.”

“I hurt you. Deeply. And I’m sorry for it.”

He looked across at her, all pale beauty, ethereal like the moon, with sharp hazel eyes and the birthmark on her temple she usually had her curls cover. There could be no doubting her attractiveness, or even her desirability as a woman. He was surprised no other gentleman had snapped her up.

But although he could acknowledge her beauty, he no longer felt that pang of attraction. Not when Eleanor lived in his mind, all dark hair and gray eyes, not ethereal but grounded in his life. All other ladies paled in comparison—even ones he had once thought were the pinnacle of beauty. Eleanor was real, and she was his.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he put in. “We were young and foolish, and aren’t everyone foolish when they’re young?”

She raised a brow. “You are remarkably sanguine about it.”

“I’ve had time to come to terms with it all.”

Her eyes narrowed, then she allowed her gaze to wander back across to Eleanor, who seemed to have lost herself to the music. He felt a pang of something in his chest that felt remarkably like a combination of fondness and concern. Sometimes, he felt as though the thing they had cultivated between them had no chance of failing; they were, after all, married.

Other times, he felt as though their connection was like the fragile stem of a flower, liable of snapping at any moment. After all, he had believed in his love for Lydia, and she had changed her mind about wanting him.

How did he know if and when he would be enough for any woman?

“She is lovely, if not your usual style,” Lydia said, sipping her tea. “Your marriage came as a surprise to me. She never struck me as a lady who particularly desired for an advantageous marriage.”

“We had a rocky beginning,” he admitted. “But I believe we are headed for smoother waters.”

“Of course,” Lydia murmured. “And is she satisfied? Poor girl. Imagine taking her to the menagerie, Sebastian. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” She laughed and she slapped his arm. “Truthfully, I think she was eager for the two of us to rekindle things. She reached out to me, you know. She heard that we were once courting.”

He frowned, unease slicing through him. “She did?”

“Yes. Did you not know? Oh, but maybe that was her gift to you. Most ladies, you know, prefer to keep their husbands at a distance. And if she was brought into this marriage unwillingly, I expect she’s hoping you will allow her to foster her own interests.” The delicate weight she placed on interests made it plain she was not merely regarding embroidery or painting.

“Eleanor is not that type of lady.”

“Of course not,” Lydia soothed. “All I’m saying is you shouldn’t be surprised if she is . But you know her better than I do, of course.”

“Of course.” He shifted in his seat. They had spoken about many things, especially of late, but what did he truly know about her? So much, and yet so little.

Lydia placed a hand on his arm. “No matter,” she whispered. “A man does not have to change all things merely because he has a wife.”

He shook her free, turning his attention back to Eleanor. He thought she’d enjoyed the menagerie, but had she, or had it been too coarse an entertainment for a lady? He rather suspected it had been.

He should have known better.

“You are in the best days of your marriage,” Lydia said under her breath as the piece came to an end. “Enjoy it while it lasts.” She smiled sweetly at Eleanor as she returned to their party, and Sebastian was forced to let the subject drop.

The ride back to their house was silent. Eleanor plucked at a loose thread in her gloves, wishing Sebastian would say something to her. All her enjoyment of the day had been sucked out by the way Sebastian had entertained Lady Lydia’s advances, content to send her off to accompany their private conversation.

How humiliating.

“Did you enjoy the menagerie?” Sebastian asked suddenly.

“Of course.” She summoned a smile for him. “It was the best time of my day.”

“You did not think it was too common an outing?”

Was that what Lady Lydia had insinuated? No doubt the other lady would have preferred something more refined, more gentile. Did Sebastian also think that Eleanor ought to have preferred something else?

Her shoulders stiffened. “It was not,” she said, and he frowned.

“I see.”

“We have a ball in three days’ time. I was hoping to attend with Olivia. Would you accompany us? If not, I can ask Luke.”

Sebastian’s expression tightened. “You would ask him?”

“Only if you had preferred not to go,” she snapped.

“I would much rather attend with you than leave you in his hands.”

“For heaven’s sake, Sebastian. I thought you were finally friends again.”

“I would be more likely to contemplate friendship so long as he did not make advances on my wife.” Sebastian’s eyes flashed, and Eleanor wasn’t sure whether to laugh or drop her head in her hands.

“We both know Luke’s interest is in Olivia rather than me. Come, are you truly going to fight with me?” She reached out her hands to him pleadingly, and he immediately took them in both of his.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, we shouldn’t fight when things are finally so good between us.” He lifted her fingers to his mouth and kissed them tenderly. “It would be my honor to attend the ball with you. But I do have a question for you. Why did you write to Lydia?”

Eleanor’s heart dropped. “A mistake,” she managed.

Sebastian shook his head, but although he smiled at her, she wondered if he had resolved whatever thoughts lay behind his eyes. Still, he brought her face to his for a kiss, despite the rocking of the carriage, and she allowed herself to relax. This distance between them was a temporary thing, and who could blame him for being a little distant from her after meeting with the woman who broke his heart? She had been the one to write to her, after all. He had not sought her out.

But Lady Lydia was not his wife, and she would not—could not—be allowed to break them apart when they had only just come together.