Chapter 21 #2
“If you do not agree to my outrageous demand,” she said, the slightest curve touching her mouth, “you must not blame me if I take another lover.”
Sebastian’s gut tightened. The reaction was immediate and wholly unreasonable.
Everything in him recoiled at the thought of another man touching her, learning the secrets of her body, hearing those soft sounds she made when pleasure overcame her.
The very notion awakened something dark and possessive within him that had no business existing in an affair they had already acknowledged must end.
“So you know your demand is outrageous.”
“Entirely,” she said with a low, sensual chuckle before kissing his chin and then his mouth.
Sebastian caught her there, holding her close for another lingering kiss before murmuring against her lips, “Then we shall be outrageous together. While you are mine, Red, I am yours. There will be no one else.”
Her eyes widened, as though she had not expected his agreement. “Truly?”
“Yes.” Sebastian smiled. “I shall not cease being my charming, flirtatious self. I fear the shock of such a transformation might prove too much for my heart.”
“Libertine,” she murmured with such tenderness that the word sounded almost like an endearment.
Then her mouth curved, and whatever remained of Sebastian’s restraint vanished.
He caught Red against him and tumbled with her onto the bed, kissing her with a fierce, consuming passion as he tucked his already hardened cock against her softness.
She slipped her arms around his neck and lifted her hips in instinctive want, pressing herself closer.
He drove his cock deep in one smooth glide, a groan tearing from him at the impossibly tight fit of pussy around him.
The night of loving was far from over. Sebastian wanted to imprint every detail of her upon his senses, to learn every response and commit it to memory: the taste of her mouth, the scent of her skin, the sounds she made when pleasure stripped away her restraint, the feel of her body yielding beneath his.
For whatever ending awaited them, he wanted the memory of Red seared so deeply into him that time could never diminish it.
She was not a woman he ever wanted to forget.
Several hours later, Sebastian stared at the printed words, the scandal sheet held loosely in his hand, as a cold weight settled in his chest. He had been damned careless.
Dearest readers, the elusive Earl of R, whom many ambitious mothers have long wished to see allied with their families, has, for several seasons, been celebrated as a rake with no inclination toward matrimony.
It seems, however, that our earl has at last been caught, and by a lady entirely unknown to the ton.
A Mrs. D. W., whose origins remain as mysterious as her sudden rise into notice.
Your devoted author has observed that His Lordship danced no fewer than four times with the lady at a recent ball, a display already bordering on the scandalous, and has since been seen in her company at Vauxhall Gardens and in Kensington Gardens.
Such attentions cannot be dismissed as mere coincidence.
Does this mean our elusive earl is finally caught?
Is it a love match, or an arrangement of another sort?
Rest assured, dear readers, this author shall endeavor to uncover the truth and will provide an update most promptly.
“Bloody hell.”
The words fell from Sebastian in a low mutter as he lowered the sheet, his jaw tightening.
It had been more than a week since the midnight ball, and while he’d called upon Darcy and his sisters for several outings, he’d believed those attentions had gone largely unnoticed by those who made a profession of prying into the affairs of others.
Darcy and his sisters possessed neither the rank nor social standing that ordinarily invited such scrutiny.
He had been wrong.
Gossip, once given life, was rarely content to remain harmless speculation.
It would spread and sharpen, each retelling adding some new insinuation, until whatever truth had begun it scarcely mattered at all.
By nightfall, half the ton might believe itself intimately acquainted with “Mrs.” Darcy Whitley and his intentions toward her.
Sebastian raked a hand through his hair, a quiet regret settling beneath his irritation.
He should have anticipated this. Ordinarily, he did.
Practicality governed him almost without thought; he weighed consequences, considered every possible outcome, and rarely acted without knowing precisely what his actions might cost.
Yet with Darcy, he had set those instincts aside.
He had seen the happiness in Darcy’s eyes and wanted to please her.
He had watched her sisters marvel at experiences he had always taken for granted and found himself wanting to give them another, and then another.
Each excursion seemed only to lead naturally to the next, for he had become drawn to their unguarded wonder, to the way they embraced every new experience with an enthusiasm that stirred a faint, persistent ache within him.
What had their lives been before this?
They had been tucked away in the country, far removed from the ease and opportunities Sebastian’s wealth and position had afforded him since birth.
What had their father truly given them? What part of himself had he chosen to share, and what had he withheld?
Whenever some old sadness shadowed their faces, an instinct rose within Sebastian to protect them, to ensure they would never again face hardship believing they must endure it alone.
Somewhere between drives through Hyde Park, picnics, museums, and their easy laughter, his desire to make Darcy happy had eclipsed every other consideration.
It was unlike him.
Sebastian exhaled slowly. He had wanted the girls to know everything he and Caroline had enjoyed without ever recognizing it as privilege: education, opportunity, freedom from constant worry, and the simple certainty that tomorrow would bring more rather than less.
Yet the reality before him was far more complicated than any generous impulse or intention he might have formed.
The realization drew another low curse from him.
How was he to manage this new family of his?
These sisters, who were no longer distant notions but living, breathing presences; who were steadily working their way into his heart with a quiet determination.
They did not demand his affection, nor did they seek to claim it outright.
And yet, in their own gentle way, they were already doing so.
He had simply chosen, for reasons he did not care to examine too closely, to ignore every rule that had guided him thus far.
He reached for the bell and rang once, sharply.
Gerald entered within moments, composed as ever. “My lord.”
“Dispatch a rider to the dowager residence in Bath,” Sebastian said, rising from his chair. “No scandal sheet is to be admitted into the house, and no mention of this item is to reach my mother or Lady Caroline.”
Gerald inclined his head. “Yes, my lord.”
Sebastian dismissed him with a brief nod and returned to his desk.
It might not be enough. The sheets had already been printed, already sold.
If one found its way into his mother’s hands, she would read it with keen interest, and whether she guessed his identity outright or not, she would certainly take notice.
There were, admittedly, other earls whose titles began with R, and the ambiguity might serve him—for a time.
But his mother was not a fool. Such speculation that he might be courting a lady would be enough to draw her back to town, for nothing would delight her more than the prospect of his marriage and the promise of children to follow.
More troubling, whatever curiosity or speculation attached to him would be nothing compared to what Darcy would endure.
A lady of uncertain origin, suddenly elevated into notice by association with a sought-after bachelor—there would be whispers, assumptions, and far crueler conjectures than anything set to print.
Sebastian’s mouth hardened. He crossed to the desk and set the paper aside with deliberate care, his mind already moving toward what must be done next.
If the ton wished to speculate, they would.
But he would decide how far they were permitted to go.
First, he penned a letter to the owner of the scandal sheet, making it plainly known that there was to be no further mention of Mrs. D.
W., or he would withdraw his investments from the man’s press.
He then wrote to Darcy, inviting her and his sisters to spend a few weeks with him in Derbyshire, where they might become better acquainted. In doing so, he would discreetly remove them from the ton’s scrutiny. Hopefully, once removed from society’s immediate notice, they would soon be forgotten.
Sebastian was certain that within a fortnight, some fresh scandal would emerge to occupy the vultures.
His heart began to thump, and he scowled at the unwelcome anticipation of having Miss Whitley beneath his roof for a few weeks.
She was clever, amusing, and a lady of thoughtful manners.
She was also artlessly sensual; at times, the way she regarded him from beneath those extraordinarily long lashes made it plain that she was as aware of him as a man as he was of her as a woman.
She should not reside beneath his roof without a proper chaperone. Her younger sisters did not qualify. Sebastian scrubbed a hand over his face.
I am not a green lad led about by his cock.
There is no reason to overthink the matter. He forced her from his thoughts and turned to the day’s business, determined not to imagine Miss Whitley beneath his roof. The fact that he had already done so several times made the resolution a lie before it was formed.