Chapter Twenty
“You look lovely.”
Augusta did not believe that she would ever tire of hearing her husband say those words. As she walked down the stairs of their townhome that Friday evening, her hair freshly coiled and the silk of her new dress shining under lamplight, she felt positively radiant under Sebastian’s gaze.
“Is it too much for tonight?” she asked as she reached the base of the stairs. “I am unsure what one is supposed to wear to dinner with the Tories.”
Sebastian smiled at her with such warmth and good humor that she wondered if she had accidentally said something funny. “You need not think of it as dinner with the Tories. Simply think of it as dinner with friends. And for that, you look perfect.”
He, as always, appeared nearly too good to look at.
He had always been handsome, but having become intimate with the lazy curl of his blond hair, with the half-smile that he gave when he found her amusing, Augusta sometimes found herself having to look away.
She did exactly that now, clearing her throat as she pretended to straighten her skirts.
“Yes, well, I am ready whenever you wish to depart, dear.”
They made easy conversation in the carriage.
That was how their conversation always was now - easy.
Even when Sebastian was going on and on about orchestral arrangements at the latest musicale and Augusta nodded along, uncertain exactly what he meant by some of his jargon, she was simply happy to be in his presence.
Though, underneath it, she wished that she, too, could go on and on regarding her own jargon.
That she could be the one to fill the carriage air with the latest information from Braithwaite, or the latest findings from institutions, or her studies with Dr. Pinkton.
That Sebastian might ask her questions, which she could answer, and in that way he would finally know her fully.
Soon, she told herself. Soon, she would tell him. And then…
Well, that was the rub, was it not? She did not know what happened after that. It was the not knowing which kept her nodding along to his voice as they approached the townhome of Lord Bancroft.
She sat up straighter when they approached, and did not lose an inch of rigidity in her spine as they came to a stop.
This was, she had ascertained, an important dinner for Sebastian, though he did not elaborate much upon it.
From what he’d said, it was a dinner with political leanings, though he had assured her that he was not planning on becoming a political figure.
The idea of her husband in politics as a public figure, with so many eyes upon them, filled Augusta with several emotions. Pride. Guilt. Absolute dread.
She truly would tell him soon. When the time was right.
Despite her worries about embarrassing her husband, Augusta found the foyer to be much like every other dinner party she had ever attended. Servants took their belongings and guided them to the dining room, wherein several of the attendees already milled about with drinks in hand.
Augusta relaxed further when she realized that she recognized everyone in the room.
The men and their wives were largely members of the ton, and though she did not know all of their names, she knew all of their faces.
That was enough for her to drop her shoulders, breathe deeply, and allow for the possibility that tonight may actually be enjoyable.
“Lady Brightwater,” came a high, trilling voice from behind her.
She turned to see Lady Wallingford approach. The woman, whose countenance had been so bleak upon Augusta and Dr. Pinkton’s first visit, had improved greatly in the time since. Now, she nearly glowed - though some of that, Augusta knew, was for the benefit of the other company in the room.
“Lady Wallingford,” she replied, a hint of surprise in her voice. “I did not realize that your husband was involved in politics.”
“He isn’t,” Lady Wallingford said sheepishly.
“Actually, his brother is. We are only here tonight because of his goodwill. Or bad will, depending on how the food is.” She looked Augusta up and down.
“You look radiant tonight. Quite rude of you to have locked this beauty away all these weeks, Lord Brightwater.”
“I do apologize for that,” Sebastian said good-naturedly. “I am afraid I have been rather greedy. But alas, she has debuted once more, has she not? So I suppose all is well.”
Lady Wallingford smiled at Augusta with the kind of knowing that only they could share, though her expression never gave away their bond.
“Nevertheless, I shall have to host a dinner with you all soon. Now that the season is finished, I find myself growing bored at home with nothing to do.”
“Of course we shall attend,” Sebastian said. “It has been far too long since we have seen one another. I don’t believe I have spoken to Lord Wallingford in months.”
Another shared look between Augusta and Lady Wallingford. This time, Augusta felt that stab of guilt again.
Soon. The word reverberated in her mind all throughout dinner. Every time her dear husband made her smile, or complimented her, it would echo. Soon. No other word could make her blood run cold such as that one did.
Dinner went by without any great fanfare or embarrassment.
Occasionally, Augusta heard one of the men make an old-fashioned remark, something about a woman’s place that was terribly out of date, and cringed inwardly.
But she bit her tongue, and managed to get through the night with nary a comment, thanks to her self-control, and the wine that gave her better humor.
When dinner ended, many of the couples departed into the chilled winter night.
“I do believe it is about to snow,” Lord Wallingford said, one hand on his wife’s lower back as he ushered her toward their waiting carriage.
Augusta had expected Sebastian to usher her out as well, as the sky did seem heavy with clouds, and snow would indeed not be so far off. Yet, just as she prepared to grab her winter coat, Sebastian appeared at her side.
“Bancroft has invited all of us into his library for a short nightcap. Are you alright with staying a bit longer?”
“Of course,” Augusta assured him. She knew that, since their wedding, it had been more difficult for her husband to spend time with the gentlemen he’d grown up with. Even Reginald had been scarce these past weeks. “Lead the way, dear.”
He did, leading Augusta down a hallway to Bancroft’s library. It was a stuffy, musty space, likely unused by the man for some time. Or perhaps that was Augusta’s own poor estimation; she had never liked Lord Bancroft, and she did not like him a lick more simply now that she’d married his friend.
Several seats were set up around the fireplace, the only source of light in the room. Leave it to Lord Bancroft to creep around in dark corners.
Speaking of the Devil, he was already seated in one of the tall-backed chairs, pouring a drink for Lord Greeling.
Augusta tried not to make a face. Lord Greeling had been one of the cads at dinner who had made several caustic comments about women. Now she would have to suffer his company for at least another hour before she got to escape to her home.
Lord Bancroft nodded for them to join him and Greeling by the fire. Augusta followed behind Sebastian, telling herself that she could be a good, obedient wife for another little while. Although, she was starting to feel the strain in her composure. Perhaps she’d gone overboard on the wine.
She and Sebastian sat opposite the two men. Augusta had the sensation of being on a battlefield.
“So, Brightwater,” Greeling said, tossing back his whiskey and sighing, “How is married life treating you?”
The man spoke only to Sebastian, as though Augusta were not in the room with them. She ignored this fact, and looked to her husband for his response.
Sebastian smiled, glancing at Augusta with a bashful expression. “I cannot complain.”
Augusta barely withheld a blush, though she did find her gaze slipping away from him in order to accomplish such a task.
“Not yet, anyhow,” Greeling said, before giving a booming, self-satisfied laugh. Lord Bancroft followed suit, offering a hollow chuckle that was placating, at best.
Augusta froze, instantly incensed. Next to her, Sebastian did not make any sound aside from softly clearing his throat. When he did speak, it was stiff.
“I fully anticipate remaining happy, actually.”
Greeling’s laugh died down before he waved away Sebastian’s statement. “Yes, well, we shall see about all that. I have heard from Bancroft here that you will be a part of our campaign efforts.”
Augusta furrowed her brow; in all their many hours of talking, Sebastian had said nothing about political leanings. He might have been quite a traditional man in some ways, but she had not taken him for a Tory.
When she looked over at Sebastian, she was surprised to find understanding in his expression. Then, he nodded.
“Yes, Bancroft was very…” he glanced at his friend. “...persuasive.”
Something in his tone told Augusta that there was a great deal more to the story. So, why had he not told her such a tale? They had spoken so much thus far - of their families, their lives. This seemed to be something quite important. At least, it was being spoken of with very serious voices.
Lord Bancroft gave a wolfish grin. “I often am.”
Augusta had spent a great deal of her life being on the outside of things. She ought to be comfortable here. But for some reason, in this instance, she could not shake the feeling that a web was being woven in front of her.
“I did not know that you were inclined toward politics,” she said, working hard to make her voice cheery and light, when its natural timbre was so much lower.
Sebastian looked down at his hands. “I am not, usually. This was an exception.”
Hm. She would have to ask him about it later, when they were alone. For now, she would continue to smile and play along.