His Temporary Duchess (Dukes Ever After #5)

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

O ver the course of the next few days, Eleanor was able to forget about Lady Lydia. Although Sebastian did not entirely thaw toward her again, he had gone as far as asking her how she would feel about not changing the staff when his two weeks were up.

Nothing about his demeanor to her suggested that he was thinking of another, even if sometimes he did descend into his own thoughts. But when she brought him back into the present, he always looked at her with a smile as though delighted to see her still there.

Thus, when they traveled into London together to attend another ball, Eleanor looked forward to the evening with an air of enjoyment.

First, they went to Olivia’s house to collect her, and her mother—worn and tired from the extravagances of a London Season—handed Olivia into the carriage with an air of relief.

“Mama is very grateful,” Olivia said as she settled beside Eleanor. “She thinks I will have a better chance of making a match if I am with you.”

“Well, so it’s true,” Sebastian said. “Do you have any gentlemen in mind?”

Olivia blushed, and unusually for her, kept her peace.

“Enough,” Eleanor said, nudging her husband. “Did you write to Luke as I requested?”

“I did, although I doubt he would have missed this opportunity for the world.” Sebastian leveled a significant look at Olivia before lapsing back into silence.

Olivia glanced between them and grinned. Did it work? she mouthed.

Smiling, Eleanor ducked her head in acknowledgment. Olivia had perhaps not the most experience in the world, but her tips had certainly worked. She had gotten under Sebastian’s skin enough that he contemplated her as a wife, and now they were here.

When they arrived at the ball, Sebastian handed both ladies down, and they entered the house on each other’s arms, giggling and laughing together. Sebastian accompanied them in, and they followed the footmen through to the ballroom.

Eleanor was, by now, accustomed to the gazes that followed her through the room, and she no longer wanted to hide. Instead, she smiled graciously at them all. Having Sebastian at her back, his fingers grazing her spine, was enough to make any woman feel as though she could conquer the world.

“Ah, Lord Greycliff!” Eleanor waved her fan at his now-familiar figure. “Please, join us.”

Luke turned and smiled, his grin broadening when he saw Olivia standing with them. “My friends,” he said as he approached. “What a delight to see you here tonight.”

Sebastian’s hold on Eleanor’s arm tightened, pulling her possessively into his side. “You say that as though you were unaware we would be attending. I wrote to inform you.”

“A delight,” Luke repeated firmly, and although Sebastian’s hand rested on her hip now, she caught the corner of Sebastian’s smile as he glanced away. Perhaps he could not quite close off his mind to his darker thoughts, but he still loved his friend.

The first dance was announced, and Sebastian held his arm out to Eleanor. “Wife.”

“Husband,” she offered, eyes twinkling as she accepted his arm and allowed him to lead them out amongst the other couples. Behind them, Luke asked Olivia to dance, and Eleanor reflected on the first time she had seen her friend, forced to dance with numerous gentlemen who made her feel either uncomfortable or bored.

Now, finally, both of them looked as though they might have their happy endings.

“Who would have thought we could have come here,” she said, looking up into Sebastian’s face.

He grinned. “Some might say it was inevitable.”

“Don’t say so. That implies it was inevitable that you would have been this way with anyone you were close with.”

He considered her for a moment, eyes turning somber. “I can say with certainty that this would not have been the case with almost any other lady.”

Eleanor glanced away, wondering whether he was thinking of Lady Lydia then.

His fingers touched her chin. “Eleanor?”

She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Let’s not speak of things that never came to be.”

“Very well. What would you like to speak of?”

Eleanor hesitated, looking down at her hands, clasped in his. She disliked thinking of unpleasant things, but thinking of other ladies made her feel unsettled. Unsteady.

He had chosen her, but not for the right reasons.

She almost asked him if he regretted marrying her, and his failure in pushing her away, but forced the words back. Instead, she started a light conversation about the ball and the number of couples in attendance. They talked of idle matters until the very end of the dance, when he glanced behind her and froze. Confused, Eleanor looked from his face, suddenly blank, to that of Lady Lydia in the corner of the room. For an unmarried lady, her dress was remarkably daring: a red bolder than that of most, if it held just enough pink to keep it from being wholly improper. And a neckline that plunged almost daringly low.

And Sebastian looked at her as though he had never seen a woman before. Confused and transfixed, and… could he want her?

Surely not. Surely.

The thought was poison in her mind.

“Sebastian?” she asked, and his gaze snapped to her. The dance ended.

“Forgive me, my darling. I know you’re too generous to do anything, but excuse me.” He bowed over her hand, bringing it to his lips, and strode off through the crowd. To Lady Lydia’s side. Eleanor stood in the middle of the floor, alone, feeling as though she had been shunted abruptly aside by the man she thought cared for her.

Perhaps he merely wants to exchange pleasantries with her .

She had to believe it. If not, she risked her entire world crashing down around her.

Sebastian scowled down at Lady Lydia. Six years he’d gone without seeing her, now twice in the span of a week?

Of course, part of this could be attributed to the fact that he had not taken part in Society for a long time. But that part did not explain the way she had waved at him from across the ballroom, beckoning him across as though she were in command of him.

He had been tempted to ignore her, but he had no faith that if he did, she would not do something more outrageous to attract his attention.

Enough of the ton knew of their courtship that any public interaction would be scrutinized. And so he had capitulated, but she needed to know that things would have to change going forward.

“I am not your dog,” he growled when he approached. “That you can call to heel.”

“No?” She looked up at him through hooded eyes and gave a slow, wicked smile. “And yet you came. Did the dance with your wife displease you so much?”

“No,” he said shortly.

“Oh? I could not help but think she seemed a little bored. You must entertain your wife, dearest, or she will grow tired of your company.”

He recalled the distraction in her manner when he had spoken of how she was the only lady who could possibly have brought him to care for her. Could it be that she regretted it?

No, he couldn’t believe it.

The reluctance in her expression ate away at him. Did she regret fighting so hard for him? He had been cruel to her at the beginning. Was she thinking of that?

He snapped his attention back to Lydia. “Is that what happened between us? You grew tired of my company?”

“Oh no, darling. Not in the slightest. I was just young and foolish, and you were always so afraid that people would leave. I found it exhausting, I confess. But we are past that now, aren’t we? You are much older, and so am I. We are different people.”

His stomach lurched. Different people . Yes, they were—and yet at the same time, they were not. He had never quite conquered his fear of people leaving. Even now, it occupied his thoughts, along with the lady he left behind on the dance floor. Had he burdened her with his worries that she would leave? He certainly hadn’t believed her the numerous times she’d told him, and even now he struggled to fully believe it, searching for reasons she was either lying or mistaken.

Would she grow tired of it as Lydia had?

Had she already grown tired of it?

“It is not your place to speak of these things with me,” he said finally. “My relationship is none of your concern.”

Both her brows raised. “I would never dream of overstepping.”

“See that you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t go looking for your wife. She is currently dancing with Luke.” Lydia held out her hand. “Had you missed that little detail?”

Anger boiled in his stomach. Luke—he ought to have known his friend would snap up his wife the moment he turned his back.

Deep down, he knew the thought was unjust, but he despised the thought that another man had the joy of dancing with her. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see her smiling up at Luke, her hand in his.

The dark possessiveness in him rose at the sight. This was wrong. She was his .

He had to get closer.

“Dance with me,” he snapped at Lydia, taking her arm and dragging her out to the newly forming lines, as close to Eleanor as he could get. She ought to have known better than to dance with Luke—

Guilt speared through him, dispelling a little of his anger. What right had he to dictate whom she danced with? In truth, he knew Luke did not want her, and she had shown no signs of wanting him, either.

Yet at the sight of her smiling at his friend, something twisted inside him. If she tired of Sebastian and chose someone else—

Enough was enough. He did not need to follow his wife around like a lost puppy, demanding she return to his side. He trusted her.

He did. He must .

Lydia fluttered her lashes at him. “Face me, Your Grace, or people will see you staring after your wife like a lost puppy.”

He looked back at Lydia, feeling as though he had awoken. This had been a mistake. But already, the damage was done—dowagers were already gossiping about him and Lydia. He could not leave the dance now.

“Let us get one thing straight,” he said as he looked down into her beautiful face. The sight of it did nothing for him now. “I am not interested in rekindling things, and nor will I ever be? Understand?”

The corner of her mouth curled up, but her eyes remained oddly cold. “We shall see.”

Eleanor did not know how such a perfect night could have gone awry so quickly. And it was all to do with Lydia.

“He’s dancing with her,” she whispered to Luke, who had seen her standing alone after Sebastian had left her so abruptly and had been kind enough to ask her to dance. “People will talk.”

Luke glanced around them, where people were indeed looking and talking about this new chain of events. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he said as calmly as he could, but Eleanor knew he was lying. “You don’t know what he was doing.”

“She crooked her finger to him and he came running.” Eleanor’s nostrils flared. “And now he is dancing with her.”

“Perhaps out of irritation that we’re dancing,” Luke said wryly. “He always did have a jealous streak.”

“If it is jealousy, he is not executing it well.”

“No one ever claimed men were the wisest of creatures.” Luke sighed, meeting her burning gaze with his steady one. “It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking without being privy to his thoughts. Your best course of action is to ask him. And, meanwhile, don’t look at him. Don’t pay him any attention. People will talk more. When this is over, you must go and greet him as though nothing is wrong. If you wish to confront him, do so at home.”

Eleanor’s head throbbed. How had she thought coming here would be a good idea when she ought to have known Lady Lydia would be present too?

She’d been so determined to put the lady out of her mind that she hadn’t fully allowed herself to consider the possibility that Sebastian had never gotten over her. After all, he had never told Eleanor that he loved her. They had come close, and their intimacy hinted at it, but he had never outright said the words.

Perhaps because he could not.

Perhaps because if he did, it would be a bald, bare-faced lie.

Perhaps because he was still in love with Lady Lydia. All these years, he had kept her notes. Instead of merely keeping them, perhaps he had taken them out and looked at them, smoothing his fingers over the words and remembering.

Now that Lady Lydia had changed her mind, did that mean Sebastian would want her back?

“You are thinking too much,” Luke murmured. “Don’t let the thoughts get to you.”

The thoughts sent hurt fracturing through her. Her breath trembled. She didn’t know if she wanted to rush to Sebastian, demanding that he tell her the truth of what lay in his heart, or ignore him until he volunteered the truth of his own volition. If he saw her pain, would he be more or less likely to speak?

“Smile,” Luke offered. “Let no one else know what you’re thinking, Your Grace. You are a Duchess.”

His formal address stirred her out of her melancholy, and she straightened her spine. If Sebastian did love another woman, that was not her responsibility to repair. He must choose for himself, and until then, she would have to keep her distance from him.

“That’s it,” Luke said supportively. “I’ll invite him to dine with me at White’s tomorrow. We’ll speak and I’ll bid him to be honest with me. Whatever he may pretend to feel about me and our friendship now, I know he still cares.”

“His problem has never been a lack of care,” Eleanor sighed. “It has been that he cares too much, and does not know how to regulate his emotions, and so he denies their existence altogether.”

“Foolish and short-sighted, yet understandable.” Luke cleared his throat. “Give him as much grace as you can, Eleanor, and I will speak with him. Then, everything will go back to how it was.”