Chapter Fifteen #2
She glanced around the room, and he caught her checking for a particular presence. White, no doubt.
“No, it would be my pleasure. Thank you, Mr. Clarke.” Her smile seemed genuine this time. “Your mask is quite remarkable. The Green Man, is it not?”
“You have a keen eye for folklore.”
“It reminds me of someone.” Her voice grew softer. “Someone rather dear to me.”
His heart quickened. “Is he here tonight?”
“No. He cannot attend such gatherings.”
“Then perhaps I might serve as adequate company in his absence.”
“No one could replace him,” she murmured, then seemed to catch herself. “But a pleasant distraction would be most welcome.”
Before Sebastian could respond, the woman in the fox mask returned to claim Rose’s attention, drawing her away into the crowd.
Sebastian retreated to his observation post, but his attention was soon caught by movement toward the terrace doors. Lord Wentworth and Baron White were making their way outside, and something in their purposeful manner suggested this was no casual stroll.
He waited several moments before following, slipping through the doors and into the cool night air.
The men had moved to the far end of the terrace, where they stood lighting cigars near the stone balustrade.
Sebastian eased behind a large yew shrub, close enough to hear but hidden by the dense branches.
“The arrangements are proceeding as discussed?” White asked, drawing deeply on his cigar.
“I am a man of my word.” Wentworth’s tone carried warning beneath its civility. “She will comply, or face the consequences of defiance.”
“You’re certain she understands the gravity of her situation? The girl has shown more spirit than anticipated.”
Sebastian pressed closer to the shrub, his fingers gripping the cool stone of the nearby railing.
“She will do as she is instructed,” Wentworth said, exhaling smoke slowly. “Or she may find herself facing circumstances similar to those that befell her mother.”
White’s low chuckle made Sebastian’s skin crawl. “One must sometimes be firm with the gentler sex. They require guidance.”
“Rose would be wise not to follow her mother’s path of obstinacy. In hindsight, we should never have allowed women to learn to read. It gives them too much power.”
“I trust there will be no repetition of past difficulties?” White asked.
“That depends entirely upon Rose’s willingness to accept her duty.” Wentworth flicked ash from his cigar. “I have made the consequences of rebellion quite clear to her.”
“And our other arrangements remain secure?”
“For the moment. Though the situation has become more urgent than anticipated.” Wentworth’s voice dropped. “Rose has learned things she ought not know. The timeline must be accelerated.”
Sebastian’s blood turned cold.
“How accelerated?”
“Tomorrow. Before she can act upon her newfound knowledge.”
Tomorrow. They meant to marry her off tomorrow.
“That is rather sudden,” White said, though he sounded pleased rather than concerned.
“Sudden circumstances require swift action. Eleanor discovered things she ought not have known as well. I will not make the same error twice—allowing sentiment to delay necessary action.”
“And if Rose proves as troublesome as her mother?”
“Then she will learn that defying me carries the same price it always has.” Wentworth’s voice held no emotion whatsoever. “I protected this family’s interests then, and I will do so now.”
White ground out his cigar against the stone railing. “I understand perfectly, my lord. Rose will present no difficulties once she is properly guided.”
“See that she does not. I have worked too long to build what we have to allow one foolish, spoiled girl to destroy it.”
They replaced their masks and moved back toward the ballroom doors, leaving Sebastian frozen behind the yew shrub.
Tomorrow. If he did nothing, Rose would be married to Baron White tomorrow, and God only knew what horrors awaited her after that. Worse, if Wentworth discovered Sebastian’s true identity before he could act, he might well be the next to meet an “accidental” fate.
Sebastian stumbled to a stone bench just off the terrace, his mind reeling. What could he possibly do to save Rose from this nightmare? If she remained in this house another day, all was lost.
For years, his every thought had been consumed with one goal—exposing the truth about his father’s death and reclaiming the Ashford name. He had promised James and Sophia that he would right this wrong, that he would restore their family’s honor.
But sitting here in the sweet night air, listening to the distant music from the ballroom where Rose was trapped in a web of her father’s making, Sebastian felt something fundamental shift within him.
He thought of his father—gentle, loving, devoted to his children even after losing his beloved wife. Lord Ashford had set aside his own grief to honor his dying wife’s final request: to love and protect their children as she would have done.
Perhaps it was time for Sebastian to honor that same spirit of sacrifice.
Rose had never been part of his plans for revenge. He had not anticipated falling in love with the daughter of his enemy. Yet here he was, and the truth was undeniable. He would rather ensure Rose’s safety than prove his father’s innocence. He would rather protect her than reclaim his birthright.
Even if she could never forgive his deception. Even if she chose to walk away from him once she learned who he truly was.
The realization should have felt devastating—abandoning the promise that had sustained him through years of exile and servitude. Instead, it felt like awakening from a long, bitter dream.
His siblings would understand. They loved him regardless of titles or estates. And perhaps, just perhaps, love was stronger than hatred after all.
Sebastian rose from the bench, his resolve crystallizing. Tomorrow was too late to begin planning Rose’s salvation. It had to be tonight.