Chapter Twenty-Five
Sebastian wondered how many times he would have to stand outside of his own chamber door, afraid of the woman within.
Evidently, at least one more time.
There he stood, having heard from the servants that she had returned from her outing. The outing which he was positive had not been to see Miss Greene. Now he would have to apologize for yet another sin against his wife, which she was sure to dismiss.
He hadn’t meant to speak cruelly to her this morning. But he had wanted her to see what she had risked by playing out her scheme. He’d wanted to know for himself, beyond a doubt, that his wife understood what she was doing.
He’d walked away believing that she did understand it, and largely did not care. This had surprised him beyond measure. The Augusta he had married weeks ago was so in line with the crowd. To hear her speak of being tossed from the ton so casually had made him wonder if he’d known her at all.
How had he gotten here?
Completely by his own hand, that was how. And now, he would have to get out by his own hand as well.
He knocked on the door before he could convince himself to turn around and walk away.
The silence this time was shorter than the last. As ridiculous as it seemed, this gave Sebastian a sick hope.
“Come in,” came her voice, more confident than it had been the last time he’d stood here.
He opened the door slowly, as if that could somehow soften his wife’s understandable anger. As soon as he saw her expression, he saw that this approach had not worked one bit.
She sat at her writing desk again, having only turned slightly in her chair to acknowledge his presence. Everything about her was guarded - her back pin-straight and tense, her face stony as though waiting for the next blow. The hand that rested upon her desk tapped away anxiously as he approached.
Lord, please let his contrition be clear upon his face, and let his wife feel merciful.
He held his hands behind his back and sighed. “I came to apologize for my behavior at breakfast this morning.”
She blinked slowly at him, likely assessing how serious he was. Finally, she sat back in her chair and folded her hands over her lap. “Alright, then. You are forgiven.”
He had to pause before he spoke, trying to keep the words he’d practiced from tumbling out of him at lightning speed.
Never had he been more nervous to speak something aloud.
“There is a lecture at the British Museum tomorrow. Something about that Edison fellow. I thought perhaps you might want to attend it with me.”
The seconds seemed to tick by slowly as Augusta’s icy stare refused to melt. “I am not interested in electricity.”
“Neither am I. I merely thought it would be more stimulating to you than spending an evening at home.”
“Thank you for taking the time to consider my boredom,” she said. “But I am perfectly content with stimulating my own mind.”
God, she was making this difficult.
“I would like for you to attend something with me.”
She pursed her lips and gave him a tired look, as though his very presence drained her. “What event?”
Anything. Everything.
“I shall get us tickets to the theatre for tomorrow evening,” he said, thinking quickly of something that would force them to be in close quarters for some time without the expectation of speaking to one another, as speaking seemed to lead to fighting now.
“If you insist, I shall go,” she said, sounding like someone who had just been told that they would be sent to the stables to shovel horse shit.
“Good,” he said, though he found that he did not feel good at all. He felt nervous. “I would also like for you to dine with me tonight.”
He’d expected her to bristle at this. Instead, she did something much worse; with a sigh, she conceded.
“Yes, my lord, whatever pleases you,” she said plainly, quietly, without a hint of life.
That, he thought, was his cue to leave her be. There was only one bit of business left to do.
“Augusta?”
She looked up at him expectantly, awaiting his next demand.
Mustering up his courage, he said the words that he knew she would not repeat to him.
“I love you.”
He might as well have stabbed her, if the way the light died in her eyes was any indication. With a cold expression, she turned around in her seat and returned to her writing, as clear a dismissal as he’d ever seen.
*****
At dinner, she sat across the table from him, thus putting as much space as possible between the two of them. He made a mental note to tell the servants to set up only the seats next to one another next time.
She did not look at him. Instead, she focused on cutting up her food into miniscule pieces, though she hardly ate a bit of it.
“Do you dislike your dinner?” Sebastian asked. He had asked for roasted game hen and potatoes with sauce, as he knew she adored it.
“It is perfectly fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You are not eating much of it.”
Her frown deepened, and a flash of anger crossed her features. “I would hate to eat like a Piglet in front of you, my lord.”
Sebastian nearly choked on his own bite. “I…I never thought that you looked like a piglet. That is not where the name came from-”
“I know where the name came from, my lord. I am not a fool.”
No, the name had come from one of the many instances of bullying that she had been subjected to. In hindsight, he saw that it had never really been her that had been the issue; it had always been the cruelty of himself and the other boys.
As he looked across the table at her then, he saw a bit of that girl from Derbyshire. Beaten down. Made the fool. It made his skin crawl, so much so that he had to look down at his own plate to outrun the shame that filled him.
“I never should have called you that,” he said, forcing out each word. “I am sorry.”
“Thank you for your apology, my lord.”
He hated that everything she said had such an air of finality to it now.
Another long silence followed, during which time Sebastian wondered if he knew any words at all. Surely there was some combination of them which would end this torment.
“There is a garden exhibit next week. I thought we could-”
“I am not interested in botany.”
So she wasn’t.
It did not matter what he offered up to her - she was not interested in it unless it was some damned alienist event. If he took her to a lecture on that topic, he may as well fan the flames of scandal for her. It would only encourage her to sneak around and lie some more.
“I see,” was all he said in return. “Perhaps another time.”
That was largely how the rest of the meal went - with Sebastian occasionally attempting conversation, and Augusta quickly shutting it down before it could blossom.
Each time he grew more frustrated. Not only with her, but with himself for failing to make any headway.
Wooing her with a lie had been so easy. Now, with all truths spoken between them, it felt like wooing a brick wall.
As they stood to depart the dining room later, the air thick with words left unsaid, Sebastian cleared his throat. Only then did Augusta look at him with anything resembling interest.
“I love you,” he said. The words were pulled from him this time, knowing the pain that would follow when the inevitable occurred.
And indeed, it did occur. Augusta narrowed her eyes, her expression heavy with disgust as she turned on her heel and strode from the room.