Chapter Six
Sebastian did not think that bravado was a particularly attractive trait. Despite this, he spent the day leading up to the musicale feeling, for all the world, like the cat who had eaten the canary.
There had been so few causes of joy in his life since his father’s passing. Indeed, nearly all the news had been bad. Some of it had even been devastating. He had carried it alone, ensuring that no word of it ever reached his mother or Georgiana.
But pursuing Augusta? Despite his tawdry reasons for doing it, Sebastian found himself thoroughly enjoying the chase.
His visit with her yesterday had been illuminating into her countenance and character, most important being the fact that she absolutely did not want him to be anywhere near her person. She could not have looked more desperately at Browning to put an end to the exchange in the drawing room.
Browning had not. Rather, he’d shared an approving look later as he’d accompanied Sebastian to the door.
“Perhaps I misjudged your compatibility with certain young ladies of the ton,” his friend had said quietly. “If you were to come again, you might even get a smile out of her one day.”
A smile. Apparently that was what Sebastian was fighting for now.
To his mind, this had said several things about Augusta Browning.
Namely, that she was neither a title chaser nor a dim woman, for she had so quickly seen Sebastian’s intentions.
There had come a moment yesterday wherein Sebastian had realized that Augusta was deeply resistant, and his determination had only grown stronger for it.
He did not need her love or admiration. Marriages in the ton often had neither. He found himself wanting her as a willing bride, if not a loving one. But he was starting to suspect that without love, she would not be willing.
While he would have to offer for her soon in order to accomplish his timely goals, he’d decided that a few days of enjoying the hunt would not greatly set him back. Rather, it could be the key to securing his future happiness in marriage.
Now, shuffling on his coat, he couldn’t help but smile. Tonight, the tide would turn in his favor. Nothing put a woman more at ease than good music and wine.
*****
The music room of Lord and Lady Townsend was moderate in size, which made for close seating arrangements around the instruments.
Sebastian took full advantage of this, seating himself in the same row as the Browning siblings as soon as he found their forms in the crowd.
While Browning had smiled and clapped him on the back, his sister had demured and sat quietly, awaiting the start of the performance.
It rained terribly all throughout the performances, so that a constant background noise of pitter patter against the windows accompanied each melody. Sebastian did not mind so much. He’d always found the rain to be romantic, in a way.
Throughout, his gaze wandered frequently to Miss Browning.
Each time, he found her looking at the players with a kind of open curiosity, both assessing and taking in, discerning and receiving, as though making a thoroughly academic study of the whole thing.
She did not appear to lose herself in it the way that Sebastian so often liked to lose himself in music.
So she’d been truthful then; music was not her strength. Perhaps she lost herself in those books she’d spoken of instead. The feeling was bound to be the same, with only a different mode of arrival.
Maybe they could find common things to lose themselves in. Bookstores. Theaters. Operas. Museums. London was a playground of such things, and marriage would allow an entire lifetime in which to accomplish the feat.
Now, if only she would speak to him without trying to escape.
With his mind affixed to finding an opportunity to speak with her, the moment in which the players plucked their final strings could not come soon enough. By the time it did, he found himself eager to stand and be in her company once more.
It did not take long, after the performances ended, to see that there would be no dancing on the agenda. People instead milled about, some taking turns about the music room, others disappearing into other parts of the house to engage in more intimate conversations.
His surprise and disappointment were of equal measure when he turned to find that Miss Browning had slipped into the fray, leaving Browning to himself in their row.
“Looking for my sister?” his friend asked in a teasing tone.
“I…yes.” Not as eloquent as he’d hoped, but it was a start. “I am, actually.”
“Hm. Are we to have another conversation in my study soon, then?”
He would have a day to decide how to approach this, then. “Yes, of course, that would likely be for the best.”
Browning gave a curt nod. “In that case, I should tell you that my sister has likely made her way to the library, where I am sure she is alone, and therefore it would be highly improper for you to go and find her.”
“I see.” And indeed, he did; beneath Browning’s warning was just the smallest smile, a look of dare in his eyes that told Sebastian far more than his words did. “I suppose I shall find my way to some other place, then, that is not the library.”
“See to it that you do, chap.”
The door to the library was located down a long hallway with few other rooms, and no stragglers nearby. Only small gas lamps cast long shadows across the space, lending to it an eerie, abandoned quality.
He paused outside of the library doors. It occurred to him for the first time that he had never wooed a woman with the intention of marriage before.
Thus far, it had not proved much different than his other experiences, but it did feel far more significant.
His debts would pass, but this tryst was forever.
His solution to his father’s sins would bear his children and determine his happiness for the rest of his life.
In the end, he told himself that all things involved risk, and perhaps this was a gamble of his own. Apparently, he was his father’s son.
Slowly, he pushed the oak door open and slipped into the darkened room.
He did not spot her right away, as the light was so low that everything appeared as shadow. Rain pounded against the windows, creating a cacophony of sounds that threw him off-balance. Finally, as his eyes adjusted, he found her at such a window looking out at the storm.
She had not, it seemed, heard his intrusion, and so he had the good fortune of seeing her unguarded as she watched the violence raging outside.
Though her expression was not visible to him, he could tell by the way her head cocked to the left that she was entranced.
He recalled what she’d said yesterday, about loving gothics and tales of great romance.
He did suppose that a library in a rainstorm would play into that.
Much the better for him, if she were of the mind to be fanciful tonight.
“I see we share a love of the rain.”
Miss Browning might have leapt out of her skin for all that she startled. She twisted, a hand curled into a fist over her chest.
“My lord, I did not hear you come in.”
“It’s quite alright, I assumed the library would be empty,” he lied. “When I saw you in here, I realized we must both have an admiration for dreariness.”
Miss Browning glanced back at the window and the rain before turning to him once more, as though she had forgotten that they had been the objects of her attention only moments before.
“Yes. Well. I apologize, I shall take my leave and let you have the place.” She gave a quick curtsy and began to walk toward the door.
“Wait.”
She halted, turning back to him with a question in her eyes.
“Stay.”
She glanced about the empty, darkened library. “I cannot, my lord. I’m sure you understand.”
“I do, but I want you to anyway.”
She stammered at that for a moment. Her mouth opened to say something, then she shut it again. After a long while, she sighed. Her shoulders sagged, and she dropped her placid expression. The proper lady was gone in an instant, replaced with a thoroughly frustrated woman.
“What are you doing?” she asked defeatedly, throwing her arms up in the air before dropping them with a thwap at her sides.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what I asked: What are you doing? A week ago, you would not have looked my way if my hair was on fire. Now, with no prompting from myself, you have asked me to waltz twice, you have called on me out of the blue, and now you are asking me to remain in a dark room alone with you. What game are you playing at, Lord Brightwater?”
Playing at. The same words her brother had used. Such a strange way to phrase it.
He took a step toward her. This earned him a step back from her.
“I think you know what all those things mean. You are an intelligent woman.”
“I am not asking to be flattered.”
“You’re not asking me to stop, either, I’ve noticed.”
“You will stop,” she said resolutely, even harshly. “I am unsure how it got into your mind that I would be a worthwhile pursuit, but I think it would benefit both of us greatly if you rid yourself of such nonsense. Permanently.”
As she spoke, her dark eyes pleading a case that he could not hear, he took another step forward without conscious effort. This time, she remained in place.
His eyes landed on her lips. In his haste to find out if she was wretched or not, he had not taken the time to take stock of her looks.
Of course she was fine-looking as a whole, but now, up close, he saw all of it in such clear detail.
Even in the dark, her milky skin was clear of redness, her lashes thick and full, her lips a lovely Cupid’s bow that made his tongue run lightly against his upper lip.
Her full breasts rose and fell with each breath.
“Have you ever been pursued, Miss Browning?” He did not know where the question came from, but he was wildly curious for the answer.
She furrowed her brow. “I don’t believe that is any of your business.” Her words came out quiet, almost vulnerable.
“It is not, but I’d like to know. And I believe if I asked your brother, he would tell me, so you may as well say it in your own words.”
She scoffed and looked away, thinking. For a moment he thought she might simply turn around and leave. Then, she spoke.
“Twice.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And why did it end?”
“I…” she hesitated. Her hands fiddled with one another, and she looked down at them briefly before squaring up with him again, eye-to-eye. “The first one found fault in me and pursued some other girl, whom he married. More’s the better, I believe. He was not right for me.”
“And the second?”
“I let him call a few times, but then I told him to leave me alone. He was… pushy. Always trying to get me alone.” She cast Sebastian a pointed look. “I felt that he was only trying to compromise me. I did not believe he liked my company.”
“I see.” Sebastian took a step back and held his hands behind his back. Self-control was not his worst vice, but neither was it his greatest virtue. “You probably believe that I am doing much the same.”
“Not to such an obviously heinous degree, I concede, but the effects would be the same altogether if we were found in here right now.”
All of it was proper, and true, and so very pragmatic. He got the feeling that Miss Browning would never do a thing that was out of line, even if her life depended upon it.
It was excellent information to have. If having an embarrassing wife had seemed the worst thing to Sebastian, then Miss Browning was likely his best option.
Other than the ugly nickname that had been bestowed upon her, she would never remove the notches in his steadfast reputation in the way that his other prospects might.
This was no small matter. Sebastian believed that his reputation was largely all he had at this point. A reputation which had been so hard-earned after his father’s many sins.
“Fine. Disappointed as I am, I applaud your discretion. However, I do ask one favor of you before you go.”
Miss Browning merely looked at him expectantly.
“Show me a title here that you enjoy. I should like to read it myself.”
He did not know what she’d expected him to say, but clearly this was not it. Her brows shot up in surprise and her lips parted slightly, losing herself again. She was prettier for it.
“I am sorry?”
“I am merely asking for a book recommendation.”
The woman glanced over her shoulder at the door, as though afraid that someone might step through at any moment. Then, turning back around, she eyed the shelves behind Sebastian cautiously.
“Alright, then, if that is what it takes. Give me a moment to look.”
Giving him a wide berth, she swept around to one of the shelves and disappeared behind it. For the briefest second, he caught sight of her sucking at her teeth in annoyance. It was so… discomposed of her, so clearly meant to not be for his eyes. It made him want her to do it again.
It was this urge which led him onward into the same aisle in which she now stood, looking over the spines of books. He wondered how she could read their titles in the darkness, but it appeared that she could, for she reached up and plucked one off of the shelf with confidence.
“Here,” she said stiffly, passing it to him.
He held the book up close, reading its title.
Of The Mind by one Leonard Braithwaite.
“What is this?”
“It’s a book on psychotherapy. Some great findings have been discovered these past years. Perhaps it will be most illuminating to you. Now, may I please take my leave, Lord Brightwater?”
He stared down at the book for a while, trying to understand why she might have chosen it. He’d expected a gothic or a romance. Not a medical book.
After a long silence, he looked up to see her expectant expression.
“Yes, of course,” he said quickly. “But please…will you let me call on you again tomorrow? Chaperone and all?”
She hesitated, glancing once more toward the door as though she wished desperately to escape through it. “Alright, if you insist. But please, Lord Brightwater, banish any notions you might have of pursuing me. You will only find yourself happier for it, I promise.”
She did not know how untrue that was. Hopefully, she would never know.
“I do not plan on banishing anything at this moment. However, I promise you that all of my pursuits will remain proper henceforth. Is that enough for you?”
Augusta glanced back at the door again. “For now.” Voices sounded, distant, but growing closer. “I must leave.”
She disappeared, shutting the door softly with a snick. Sebastian stood in the dark library a while longer, smiling to himself, feeling strongly that the tide had indeed turned.