Chapter Eight
Many of the things that Sebastian had done to court Miss Browning had, thus far, made him feel only a little bit like a snake in the grass.
What he decided to do after receiving Georgiana’s letter? That was full-out villainy, and he knew it.
After a quick trip to Gurnsey and Co, a bookshop near Bond Street, then a trip to the chocolate shop, he took his carriage to the Browning home and knocked on the door. The day was overcast, but it had not begun to rain yet, which made him feel that their walk in Hyde Park would not be cut short.
The butler showed him to the drawing room before going to fetch Miss Browning. Sebastian stood near the window, watching passersby on the street below as he thought about the rest of the day, and all he planned to do. All of it, of course, dependent upon Miss Browning herself.
Should she arrive in a sour mood, the stack of books and small box of chocolates in his hands would be sure to please. It had been Browning who had put him up to the idea, initially.
“My sister does not enjoy bouquets,” he’d quietly told Sebastian the evening before, on his way out of the visit in their drawing room. “She does, however, greatly admire sweet treats as gifts. She is fond of truffles.”
He’d left Sebastian to figure out the rest.
Of course, he’d known right away that he would take the bait. Time was running out. His family may not know how in need they were of him yet, but if he did not attend to pursuing Miss Browning with complete singularity, then they would all be harmed by his carelessness.
So there he stood, running a thumb along one of the books in his hands as he kept his foot from tapping.
After what felt to be a terribly long time, the drawing room door opened. In stepped Miss Browning with her lady’s maid at her heels.
“Good afternoon, Lord Brightwater,” she said with deferent nod. “Still hoping for a walk, then?”
Her dress was fine, a deep blue jacket top with bustled skirts that swished as she crossed over to him. A pity, he thought; he had come to enjoy the low necklines of her evening wear.
The thought made him stand up straighter.
“Yes, although I have a few things for you, first.” He handed her the box of chocolates.
After shooting him a look of suspicion, her long, delicate fingers undid the ribbon around the box. She took the lid off and peeked inside, then halted. The tiniest tug at the corner of her mouth was all that he received as a smile, and yet it felt to him a great victory all the same.
“I see my brother has shared his favorite method of bribery.” Her words were scathing in their own fashion, but her tone conveyed only amusement. Amusement which Sebastian, until that moment, had never heard from her.
“He may have advised me on your fondness of chocolate, but of course I chose the flavors myself. So if I may claim some of the credit, I shall gladly do so.”
“I shall allow some credit to be given. And as recompense, I shall even share some of these with you. At the park, of course.” With that, she replaced the lid and looked up at Sebastian, her dark brown eyes alight with a kind of spark that made him inhale a bit too sharply.
Clearing his throat, he then held out the small stack of books to her, sans the bottom one, which he kept for himself. To these she gave a more serious look, confused. Glancing up at him once more, she took the books and opened the cover of the top one.
“Are these…are all of these by Leonard Braithwaite?”
“Yes. I purchased all of his works this morning, just in case you did not possess one. I even grabbed myself a copy of the one you recommended.” He held up the book he’d retained.
“Since you stated that you would spend today’s walk reading and ignoring me, I thought it best to come prepared with some material of my own. ”
That lovely gaze dropped away from him and a blush crept up her cheeks. “I believe I was a bit unfair yesterday when I made that statement. I am sure I will not spend the entire walk ignoring you.”
“Only part of it, then?”
“Well, with these new books you have given me, I am sure you understand my dilemma.”
“Ah, so I am to understand that I will never be able to compete with this Braithwaite gentleman?”
It was bold, almost as bold as he had been in the library. This time, however, Miss Browning did not blanch against it. She merely stiffened a bit, then brought the books to her chest, where she cradled them lovingly.
“I believe I am capable of giving my attention to both you and Mr. Braithwaite today.”
It was a simple statement, likely meant to be cheeky, but Sebastian could have sworn that there was deeper meaning behind it. Perhaps it was the way that Miss Browning said it, quietly and with that slight husk in her voice. His eyes caught on the hollow of her neck as she swallowed.
“Well then,” Sebastian said, suddenly distracted. “Let us venture forth.”
They did as much, with the silent lady’s maid lingering a respectable distance behind.
The sidewalks were not busy, though Sebastian knew that it did not take many eyes at all to spark a rumor.
He did not mind it so much; rumors of a courtship would only serve his purposes, as it would keep matrimony at the forefront of Miss Browning’s mind.
She would hate it. But she would be thinking of it. That was a victory.
Along the way, the pair spoke only of immaterial things. The weather. Horses. The Haversham ball, which would soon end the season. Miss Browning was pleasant through each topic, no hint of the humor she had shown him in the drawing room.
Sebastian could not help but notice how she glanced about as they entered the park, as though looking out for anyone who might see them together.
She did not appear shamed by their association, only self-conscious.
He could sympathize, and one’s standing in society was always so fickle, and it often gave him concern when he paused to think of it.
Still, he aimed to take her mind from it.
“I have found many good quiet areas over here,” he said, taking her arm lightly and leading her over to a small semicircle of rose bushes.
“Oh,” she said. “This is quite lovely, actually. I had Milly bring a blanket.” Turning back to her lady’s maid, she called out, “Milly? Could I procure the blanket from you? Lord Brightwater and I would like to picnic.”
The maid, Milly, rushed to follow Miss Browning’s request. As she laid the blanket out in the grass, she said only, “I am sorry to have not packed food for you, Miss.”
Miss Browning waved her concern away. “Oh, that is quite alright, we have our chocolates and books, that is all we need. Thank you Milly.”
With a polite nod, the maid walked away some distance, busying herself with examining a nearby pond and some of the ducks which splashed in it.
“You treat your maid quite finely,” Sebastian said, settling himself down onto the blanket.
In the most demure, ladylike fashion, Miss Browning slowly brought herself down to the blanket as well, keeping several feet between herself and Sebastian as she sat. “She has been invaluable to me. I have no idea where I would be without that woman. She deserves the absolute best.”
“Hm,” was all Sebastian said, though he catalogued her response in the way he had with so many other of her responses.
Before he could gain further ground in the conversation, Miss Browning seized his silence and made good on her threat; picking up one of the Braithwaite books, she flipped to the first page and began to read.
He took the hint, and decided to open his own book, which earned him a quick, curious glance from Miss Browning before she returned to her own reading.
The pair spent the afternoon that way - reading, sneaking glances at one another, and only occasionally shifting into more comfortable positions without actually touching one another.
Sebastian read the book by every technical meaning of the word, but he absorbed little of its meaning.
Much of the text regarded patient cases in asylums and what information could be gained from them.
There was much jargon, and he struggled to understand most of it.
It made him wonder if Miss Browning had chosen the book simply to throw him off. He could not imagine the woman who enjoyed her gothics and romances to be the same woman who would enjoy this kind of material.
Then again, she sat across from him at that very moment, positively engrossed by the Leonard Braithwaite book in her hands.
Therefore, Sebastian supposed that his future wife was merely more dynamic than he had presumed.
It was good, in a way; conversation would never be lacking.
At least, not once she decided that she would speak to him at all.
Upon struggling through a particularly dense page, Sebastian decided that it was high time to end their standoff.
“Chocolate?” he asked, setting the book aside and grabbing the small box of truffles.
It took a moment for her to remove herself from her book, denoted by several slow blinks as she brought her eyes to Sebastian’s.
“I am sorry, my lord?”
He gestured toward the box. “Your chocolates? Would you like one?”
“Oh, yes, thank you.”
He slid the lid off, displaying the contents to her. “Which one would you like?”
She eyed the box before returning her gaze to him. “Pick one for me. I chose your reading material, therefore you may choose my chocolate.”
She spoke of it in the pragmatic way that one might speak of a business deal. And yet, as Sebastian looked upon each of the chocolates in search of the one he might give her, there was something deeply intimate about it.
He plucked one out and held it out to her.
Again, those long, delicate fingers made an appearance, brushing against his hand as she took the chocolate and brought it up to her lips.
His eyes followed the movement. As she bit into the chocolate, her tongue slipping out briefly to capture the bits of the morsel that had fallen upon her lips, Sebastian swallowed.
What was she like, beneath all of those layers?
Not merely her clothes, but the other layers she had surrounded herself with, as well - the frowning, the politeness.
He wondered what she might be like with him between her legs.
If her eyes would close in pleasure. If she would struggle to stay guarded.
“Is there something on my face?”
Her words broke the spell. Sebastian returned to the moment to find her staring at him in confusion.
“Oh, yes, actually.” It was true; on her bottom lip, a small smear of chocolate had been left behind.
She reached up to her lips to dab, but missed it entirely.
He knew he ought not to. But this was a seduction, and he did not intend to play fair. Besides, the opportunity had simply dropped into his lap, “Let me…”
Before either of them could stop his hand, he reached up and brushed the bit of chocolate from her lip. How soft it was beneath his thumb, how positively inviting. How he wished to press his own lips to hers, to know what lovely, discomposed sounds she might make.
He did not have to wonder for too long. At his touch, she inhaled sharply, her eyes widening in surprise and her body tensing.
A beat, then two, and she pulled away, blinking and looking around as if worried that someone might have seen them.
“I am worried it might rain,” she said stiffly, not offering up a single glance to the clear blue sky above. “We ought to return.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, finding it difficult to hide his disappointment. But, despite how much he wanted to, he could not ravish her here in Hyde Park. “May I call on you again tomorrow?”
This time, she hesitated before nodding. Instead of reticence, however, he saw a kind of longing in her eyes when she finally said, “Yes. If you insist.”