Chapter Seventeen
Sebastian needed air.
Not the sort one found, thick, in a London ballroom, nor the stifling scent of hearth fires or mixed perfumes at the castle. No, he needed the kind of air found in taverns: warm, sour with ale, and soaked with male laughter.
“I still don’t understand,” Thomas muttered, scowling over the frothy head of his tankard. “We have an entire bloody brewery. Why are we in this particular pub drinking this horse piss instead of our stout?”
“Because,” Sebastian drawled, slouching comfortably into the battered booth, “I needed a moment outside the castle walls.”
Rotheworth let out a low laugh and knocked his tankard against Sebastian’s. “So you dragged us to this den of spilled pickles and regret. Women really, truly are something.”
“It’s charming,” Sebastian said, eyeing the cracked plaster walls with a tilt of his head. “And it’s exactly what the night calls for.”
Thomas raised a brow. “You’re rattled.”
“Define rattled.”
“Do I really need to put words to it? I just have to look at this place and have my answer.”
Sebastian sipped his ale and said nothing. He was rattled. Thoroughly.
Not because of Maddie. Very well, yes, partly because of Maddie. But also because he didn’t quite know how to approach the matter. He had never courted a woman, and he was pretty sure he was doing everything wrong. In fact, could he be considered courting her at all?
That terrible, lovely woman who had kissed him like it meant something—and then gone to bed, leaving him a man unmoored. He could still taste her on his lips. Sweet. Curious. Bold. He wanted more.
Wanted everything.
“He’s quiet,” Rotheworth noted. “He’s never quiet. This is unsettling.”
“He’s in love,” Thomas muttered. “Or mad. Possibly both. Know I am.”
Rotheworth nodded. “I can drink to that.”
Sebastian gave a slow blink. “Can one be mad with love?” He didn’t read much poetry, but he thought one could be. He just had to look at the men at this table. That is, after all, why he dragged them along.
“Only if you’re an idiot,” Thomas said.
He couldn’t fight the claim. “Then I am a bloody imbecile.”
Rotheworth leaned back and rubbed his jaw. “So what are you planning to do about Miss Madeleine? Her mother is rumored to be quite stubborn.”
Yes, and she’d probably want a duke for her daughter, not a marquess. “What about her father?”
Rotheworth shrugged. “Haven’t met the man, but what I’ve heard he seems to be sensible.”
Sensible didn’t mean much now, did it?
Thomas snorted. “You’ll have to win his favor. After all, you can’t just keep watching the woman like she’s the last éclair on a dessert tray.”
“I don’t watch her.”
“Right. You gaze. Dreamily.”
“Rubbish.” But he could feel a flush rush across his skin. Did he? Probably.
“Then what’s that expression on your face right now?”
Sebastian slumped deeper. “How am I supposed to know? I can’t see my face.”
Rotheworth chuckled.
Sebastian swirled his tankard. “I feel I’m longing for a future I’m not sure I’m allowed to want.”
Thomas grimaced. “God. That’s nauseatingly poetic.”
“You just feel this way?” Rotheworth asked. “Makes sense.”
Sebastian looked over at the man. “It does?”
“Aye,” Thomas echoed. “It does?”
Rotheworth shrugged. “I felt the same way about Charlene. Sometimes I still do. It’s only natural when you meet a woman whom you believe deserves better than you.”
Better than him… Did he believe that?
“If you thought you were no good for your wife, why did you marry her?”
“Too selfish to let her go.”
Selfish… Sebastian didn’t believe he was a selfish man, but thinking about Maddie… Yes, he could be selfish. He could most certainly be selfish. He wanted her. He didn’t want anyone else to have her.
“That, I can understand.”
“So, what do you suggest I do?” He hated even bloody asking.
Thomas smirked. “You ask me for romantic advice? Good God, man, are you trying to lose her?”
Rotheworth snorted into his tankard. “He has a point. He was more worried about his horses than his fiancée. If he had been to court his wife without the wager… Let’s leave it at that.”
Thomas raised his tankard in a mock toast. “It all still worked out in the end.”
“From what I hear, barely,” Rotheworth muttered.
“Barely is still working out. What about you?”
“I pursued the woman I love with my unrivalled charm.”
Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re both useless.”
“You don’t need advice,” Rotheworth said after a beat.
“You need to decide what you want, although it seems you’ve already done that; now all you need to decide is how to ask her.
” He paused, his expression softening. “Then stop sulking in a piss-scented tavern. The lady seems taken with you, after all.”
Sebastian let his head fall back against the seat, eyes fixed on the warped ceiling beams. Ask for it. The words rang oddly in his chest. He didn’t ask for things. He inherited them. Managed them. But Maddie?
She was not something to be inherited. To be managed.
“I don’t want to be another disappointment in her life.”
Thomas shook his head. “In my experience, give your chosen woman more credit.”
Chosen woman…
Sebastian liked that.
“You need to talk to her,” Rotheworth said simply. “Not flirt. Not banter. A real conversation. Tell her what you want. Your dream for the future. See if hers aligns.”
Sebastian lifted a brow. “What if I don’t know what that is yet?” The future stretched long, did it not?
“Then you listen,” Rotheworth said. “And figure it out together.”
Thomas drained his drink. “There is a problem with that?”
“The problem is,” Sebastian said with a sigh, “we’re not officially attached. I can’t just ask her questions about the future because we kissed, and I suddenly dream of things I never dreamed before.”
“Why not?”
Sebastian gave them both a flat look. “Because she deserves… I don’t know, but not a steamroller of a proposal from a man halfway to madness.”
“You know there is a lodge on our property,” Thomas said, leaning back with a smug tilt of his head. “I’m just saying. It’s yours to use and use to woo if you want.”
Sebastian blinked at him. “You want me to abduct her?”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “I’m suggesting you invite her. Like a gentleman.”
Sebastian eyed his friend skeptically. “Invite her for what exactly?”
Rotheworth choked on a laugh. “He says it like it’s a mortal sin.”
“It feels like one,” Sebastian muttered. “An invitation. To a lodge. Where we will be alone.”
“Do whatever you want.” Thomas blinked. “Or not want.”
He scoffed.
But still… the lodge. It was secluded. Private.
Far enough from the main house to be free of prying eyes and whispered speculations.
If he asked Maddie there—invited her properly, respectfully, with whatever decorum was required—it might buy him the space to speak with her plainly.
To ask the questions he’d kept swallowing every time she looked at him like she might feel something more.
It was a ridiculous idea.
It was a perfect idea.
“I’d have to arrange a proper escort,” he said slowly, his mind already racing ahead. “Make it look respectable. Not some scandalous assignation.”
Thomas snorted. “You’re asking her to take a walk, not climb into your bed. Though if she decides to—”
Sebastian threw a crust of bread at him.
“Just being supportive,” Thomas said cheerfully.
Rotheworth leaned forward, the tavern candlelight casting shadows beneath his eyes. “If you do this, Sebastian, don’t make it a half-measure. Don’t take her to the lodge just to fumble around the edges of what you want. Be clear. Ask her if she sees a future—with you. Not someday. Now.”
Sebastian’s throat worked. “What if she says no?” This was his biggest fear.
Thomas didn’t flinch. “Then at least you’ll know. And you’ll have done something most men don’t.”
Sebastian tilted his head. “What’s that?”
“Had the courage to tell a woman what she means to you before it was too late.”
There was a long pause.
*
Maddie was not inebriated. Not on beer, at least. She was, perhaps, pleasantly marinated—not in beer, but in thoughts of a certain marquess—which was exactly the sort of mood required for the conversation now taking place inside the Linsey family brewery.
The rather lovely space—normally bustling with workers—was quiet for the afternoon, giving her the opportunity to catch up with her friends.
And quite timely, Sera arrived on the estate not even a quarter of an hour ago, which made the moment even more perfect. They’d practically dragged her from the courtyard straight to the brewery.
“Where is your prince?” Maddie asked. “I cannot believe he let you travel alone.”
Sera snorted. “Did you not see my retinue? I am never alone and miss Alex.
“Will your prince not be joining us then?” Ashley asked, brows furrowing.
“Oh, he will. He has some business holding him up and I refused to wait a second longer! So, tell me everything that happened in my absence.”
And they did, bursting into laughter at the various degrees of shock on Sera’s face. When it came to Maddie’s latest little adventure, her nerves all knotted in her stomach.
“So let me get this straight,” Charlene said, kicking her boots up onto the bench across from Maddie. “He kissed you—you kissed him—and now you’re hiding in a brewery with us. Wait, is this the reason why you ushered us all here so urgently?”
Maddie groaned. “I think I’m panicking.” But not exactly hiding as her friend suggested.
Charlene patted her hand sympathetically. “Darling, I once panicked so hard I agreed to marry a duke. It happens.”
Ashley snorted. “Are you calling love panic now?”
Sera chuckled. “I somehow completely understand. I’m just cross I couldn’t arrive any sooner. Heh.”
Charlene laughed. “I once panicked and broke a vase on a man’s face.”
The other three women blinked.
“He was fine,” Charlene assured them with a smile that was almost sly. “Just a scratch.”
Maddie lifted her head slowly. “Why are all of you so much?”