Chapter 12 #2
Sarah giggled as the kitten pawed at a crumb of bread, and Maryann reached over to save the morsel, shaking her head fondly.
“She is happy,” he said quietly.
“Yes.” Maryann’s voice softened. “She cried so much that first night without Lizzy and Vi. I know you think her to be my child,” she added, her tone steady, though her eyes shimmered with faint amusement.
“You told me once that she was not.”
“I did,” she said, smiling faintly. “Many people in Dorset thought the same. There was even a young man who appeared to court me for a time but once gossip reached him, he withdrew his attentions. Though the evidence was plain that I could not have been her mother, his pride could not endure the whispers. I was fortunate that my heart had not yet become engaged, else it might have broken me.”
Sebastian’s brows drew together. “Who is her mother?”
“A widow,” Maryann said softly, her gaze drifting across the lake.
“My father… turned to her for comfort after my mother’s death.
She bore him a daughter, but only a few weeks after giving birth, she left Sarah at our doorstep.
My father refused to marry her. He said only mama could ever be his wife.
It was a sentiment of loyalty, perhaps even love, but one that left the poor widow vulnerable to scorn.
His refusal, though noble in intention, cast its shadow upon all of us.
The neighbors whispered. Some pitied us; others mocked.
And through it all, I was determined that no cruelty should ever touch Sarah again. ”
She drew a deep breath. “I have made up my mind that, as she grows, no one must ever know the truth. The world can be merciless. It would see her branded before she’s even had a chance to live.
In time, she will have her own place in society, untainted by the sins of others.
And I will save every penny I earn to give her a dowry worthy of her.
She will have choices, a future. I will make certain of it. ”
Her words struck something deep within him—something that stirred respect, admiration, and a fierce, unbidden tenderness.
Sebastian stared at her. “You would sacrifice everything for her.”
Maryann smiled faintly, her eyes glimmering. “I would.” She looked away for a moment, took a bite of her fish and said, “This is too wonderful, my lord; you have finally revealed your secret talent. You are wasted as a viscount. You were clearly born to roast fish.”
Sebastian smiled. “Ah, then I shall have the cook dismissed, and you two shall dine on my efforts alone.”
“An agreeable arrangement,” she said, a teasing lilt in her tone. “We must do this again. It feels… wonderful.”
Something in her voice, soft and wistful, seemed to reach inside him and settle there.
The firelight brushed against her features, gilding her skin in gold.
A few rebellious tendrils had slipped free from her chignon, curling along her neck and caressing her flushed cheeks.
The color rising in her cheeks held him captive.
She had an enchantingly pretty face and a mouth far too lush and tempting to ignore.
She looked both serenely composed and impossibly lovely.
“How did you learn to roast fish—or even build a fire pit like this? I never imagined such things fell under the purview of young lords.”
He passed her another skewer and reached for the sherry. “My father often took me hunting and fishing when I was a boy. We’d roast our catch just like this. Sometimes my mother joined us, though she always complained of the smoke.”
Her gaze softened. “You were an only child?”
He nodded, tearing a piece of bread in half and handing her one. “I was and quite thoroughly showered with their love and attention.”
“So you were spoiled,” she teased, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Dreadfully so,” he drawled, the corner of his mouth lifting. “My mother wished for another child, but it was not to be.”
“I cannot imagine life without siblings,” Maryann said, her smile fading into something gentler. “It is chaotic, there are quarrels and laughter and mischief, but it is… home.”
For a moment, her eyes glimmered with the ache of memory, and he knew precisely where her thoughts had gone. Her sisters.
“I saw them yesterday,” he said quietly.
Her head snapped up. “You saw Lizzy and Vi? How?”
“I went to my mother’s garden party. They were there, happy, well cared for. Your sister Elizabeth is already admired. My mother says a young baron has expressed interest in courting her.”
Her eyes brightened with tears she tried to blink away. “Truly? And they are well?”
“They are,” he said softly. “They looked radiant. The countess treats them kindly.”
Maryann’s lips trembled into a smile. “Thank you. For telling me. I’ve worried so much.”
She leaned toward him before he could rise or think and pressed her lips to his cheek.
The kiss was light as air, gone before he could breathe her in, yet it seared through him with startling force.
Sebastian turned his head slightly, and for an instant, their faces were so close he could see the faint shimmer of firelight reflected in her eyes.
She smelled like lavender and something sweetly feminine that made him ache.
“Maryann,” he said, his voice low, roughened by restraint.
She blinked, startled, and sat back quickly, her cheeks aflame. “Forgive me. It was foolish. I only meant—”
“That you were grateful,” he said quietly, cutting her off before she could apologize further. “I understand.”
But he did not understand, because a small peck on the cheek should not feel like this. Like a spark that could set him ablaze. Sarah laughed again, chasing the kitten across the grass, and the spell between them broke.
Sebastian looked away toward the lake, the fire crackling softly beside them. Yet he could still feel the ghost of her lips on his skin, warm, lingering.
Maryann delicately cleared her throat. “Was the garden party lovely?”
“It served the purpose my mother intended,” he replied, his voice faintly amused.
“Permit me to ask the purpose, my lord.”
Sebastian’s lips curved. “I think we are beyond such formalities, Maryann. Call me Sebastian.”
She glanced at him, startled. The faintest flush touched her cheeks as she tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “Very well… Sebastian.”
A surprising warmth bloomed in his chest at hearing his name spoken in her soft, hesitant voice. “Hmm,” he said lightly, “my mother wished for me to meet several of the eligible ladies she had so carefully chosen—those she deemed suitable to become my bride.”
Maryann’s eyes widened, her composure faltering for a moment. “Oh. I see. Then… you are to marry soon?”
He shrugged, breaking a piece of bread with casual ease. “I am eight-and-twenty, and there is little reason to keep waiting. By next Season, at the latest, I shall have chosen a bride.”
Her voice came quiet, almost tentative. “From your mother’s list?”
“Yes,” he said. “It is the sensible course.”
Maryann’s brows drew together. “Is that not rather cold?”
He looked up. “Cold? In what regard?”
“I should think marriage ought to be founded upon love or at least affection,” she said, her tone thoughtful but edged with quiet challenge.
Sebastian gave a low, rich laugh. “You sound like a poet. Marriages among our rank are seldom born of sentiment. They are arrangements and alliances meant to strengthen holdings and unite families of consequence.”
She frowned, her gaze fixed on the lake’s glimmering surface. “And do you not wish for love, my lord? To marry a woman who stirs your heart?”
“Why would I?” he asked lightly, though there was a flicker of something darker in his tone. “Love changes nothing of a man’s duty. It complicates what should be simple. No, better sense and compatibility than passion. I do not need love to live contentedly.”
Maryann’s lashes lowered, veiling the expression in her eyes. “That sounds… very lonely, Sebastian.”
He smiled faintly but did not answer. For the first time, her words pierced something he had long believed immovable. Was it indeed lonely?
“There was a woman once… or at least, I thought she was one worth feeling something for. I was eighteen—reckless, full of romantic drivel, and fancied myself a man of grand emotions. She was a courtesan, clever enough to make me believe I was the one she wanted, when all she truly sought was access to my father. I defied him for her. I defied everything. And in the end, she laughed for her trouble and moved on to her next conquest. That was the day I learned what love really was—an illusion dressed up as virtue. A convenient madness people cling to, so they can justify their folly. It makes fools of men, weakens judgment, and ruins fortunes. Since then, I’ve regarded love as a contagion best avoided as it makes fools of the best of us. ”
“Does that mean you would never allow yourself to fall in love?” she asked wistfully, then took another bite of her fish, sighing at the taste.
“I do not think I am foolish enough to,” he said dryly. “Somehow I thought you would hold similar sentiments.”
She laughed, the sound rich and warm in the evening air. “I am an incurable romantic, my lord. I adore the gothic romances in your library.”
“Good God,” he mock-shuddered. “Never say I own such sentimental drivel.”
She laughed harder, her eyes bright. “You do indeed. I found The Mysteries of Udolpho tucked behind a rather dusty volume on agriculture.”
He groaned. “That book is a menace to sensible minds everywhere.”
Her smile softened, her laughter subsiding into something quiet and tender.
“You have a beautiful laugh, Maryann.”
A soft sound left her, and he stilled, meeting her gaze across the fading light. The warmth between them deepened. Slowly, he smiled. One corner of his mouth tilted upward.
You, he silently thought, have the dangerous talent of making me forget why I ever vowed to be sensible.