If Augusta’s heart could physically break in two, it would have in that moment. Never in her life had she heard her own condition so aptly described by a fellow sufferer.
Her eyes flitted to Lord Wallingford, who looked at his wife with the kind of wide-eyed love that only a fool of a husband could have, but she knew that he was no fool. He was, simply put, besotted with the woman he had chosen, despite all of the things that she found so shameful.
Augusta tried not to feel envy. What might it mean, to let go of her fear and accept the beautiful things in front of her without question? It could feel like falling. She had not felt that in such a great, long time. It might be nice to be led by her heart for once.
Besides, what good had her mind done her up until that point? It had lost her the first true suitor of her life. It had made her fall into despair. It had hardly ever steered her in the direction of happiness.
Dr. Pinkton spoke, and Augusta listened, trying to drown out the damned hope that had suddenly bloomed within her. But by the time the pair said their goodbyes to the Wallingfords an hour later, promising to return, she still had not managed to stamp it out.
Chapter Twelve
The Haversham estate was sprawling, almost obscenely so. It was one of those old, noble holdouts with great history and a thousand dark corridors that went off in every direction, allowing for many a scandal to occur over the years. One always knew that after a Haversham event, at least one special license would be requested.
As Sebastian strode into the packed ballroom, he wondered to himself if he, too, ought to have thought ahead and procured a special license. He wished he’d thought of it sooner.
Then his eyes caught sight of Miss Browning, and he forgot all about special licenses and debts.
She stood proudly next to Miss Greene with that serious expression on her face. Her gown was low-cut and showed a great deal of her rounded shoulders. It was a light peach color that complemented the slight blush of her skin, with trim that drew the eye to her cleavage. When she looked like this, it seemed difficult to imagine that she’d ever blended into the wall before.
Squaring his shoulders and reminding himself that he would have her soon enough, he pushed into the crowd with only one destination in mind.
He was about halfway through the crush when a familiar voice stopped him.
“Brightwater!”
Sebastian turned to see Bancroft bustling toward him, drink in hand. Based on his loping walk, he believed his friend was already a few drinks into the night.
“Bancroft,” Sebastian said with a smile. The urge to escape his friend to get to Miss Browning persisted, but he knew how it would look. He did not wish to embarrass either of them, and so he stayed where he was. “How are you?”
“Doing well. Actually, I wanted to catch you before the evening ends and ask if you would like to attend an event for the House of Lords. I’ll send a more formal invite, of course, but I wanted to make note of your interest first.”
“Oh. Is this another one of your parties with the Tories?”
Bancroft laughed, though Sebastian caught a mocking undertone to it. “Hardly anything revolutionary. Just a dinner to celebrate a lot of hard work being done recently. It should be good fun. I thought it would be a chance for you to mingle.”
Sebastian gave a rueful smile. It was not the first time that Bancroft, who always had political ambitions of his own, had tried to get Sebastian to carry those same ambitions. “You know how I feel about the chaps in Parliament. I’d rather die than get involved in politics.”
Bancroft shrugged. “Well, that being the case, it is only a dinner. You ought to come, at least for the company. I promise it won’t be talk of law all evening. The gentlemen are more than eager to talk of anything else, when they’re able. It will be in October, the last Friday evening.”
It was only one single evening, and Sebastian could be the first to admit that he had not always entertained Bancroft’s ambitions in the way that a friend ought to. And so, he nodded.
“Alright, dinner it is.” Then, thinking of the timeline, he added, “Is the invitation open to guests, perhaps?”
Bancroft cocked his head in curiosity. “You’ve got someone in mind?”
Of its own accord, Sebastian’s gaze sought Miss Browning. In doing so, he caused his friend to turn and look in the same direction.
“Hm,” came Bancroft’s disapproving grunt. “Yes, I suppose you do have to make good with Piglet, then.”
Sebastian tensed at the nickname, more so than he’d ever expected himself to. Of course, there was honor involved; he did not wish to be the kind of man who would choose a woman who might carry a shameful name. However, beneath that, he also felt a protectiveness, as though Miss Browning might hear the name and be harmed by it.
“I believe she goes by Miss Browning,” he said firmly. “And yes,” he lowered his voice, eyeing those nearby, “If I am being honest, it does not pain me to go through with it. Will you have a problem with that, Bancroft?”
His friend started to smile, the way one might if they believed something to be a simple joke. Upon seeing Sebastian’s serious expression, the smile faded.
Looking back at Miss Browning for a moment with cold, assessing eyes, he eventually turned back to Sebastian. He held his hands up in mock surrender, a cruel kind of mirth clear in his expression. “Alright. I am never one to begrudge a man his oddities.”
“Good,” Sebastian said, though he found that he did not feel good at all. “If you would not mind, then, I shall return to my pursuit. Send along your invitation, and I shall respond. Good day, old chap.” He attempted to add some lightness to his farewell, butlargely failed.
