CHAPTER 9
“Is something the matter, Your Grace?” Reginald, one of Sebastian’s many butlers, asked. Having done so because he must have seen the doubt creep onto Sebastian’s face.
“No,” Sebastian said carefully, not entirely certain how he felt or what he was thinking.
“As you say.” Reginald offered a short bow. “If there is nothing else, I will leave you.”
“Wait,” Sebastian called after him.
“Your Grace?”
There was one thing that Sebastian needed from his butler, but only in the most unusual of circumstances did he find that he did not know whether to ask for it or not.
He was caught in two minds, logic fighting against pesky desires that he could not fully explain, and the sensation left him wrong-footed and undecided in ways that were anathema to Sebastian.
He was sitting at the desk in his study, having just opened and read a letter that was delivered not five minutes ago. Under normal circumstances, the letter would not have given him a second thought—a simple request from a close friend to stop by on the morrow, as he was passing by and had yet to see him since before the wedding.
A most inconsequential request, but with consequences that feel far more dire than they should. A most frustrating circumstance that is slowly becoming too obvious to ignore, even if I would very much like to do just that!
With this friend of his stopping by, Sebastian would need to instruct his wife on how to behave and what was expected. Not that she did not know, but after her little outburst two days ago, he needed to make sure that she would not do anything rash.
However, and for reasons that Sebastian was struggling to explain or rationalize, he had lately been flooded by feelings of…
Was it guilt? Was it shame? Did he feel embarrassed by the way he had been acting and what he had put his wife through?
I should not care! She knows what this is, as well as I do. Dammit, she has been at pains to keep me at arm’s length. What does it matter what she thinks of me when this entirefiasco is nothing more than a big lie, which we both are eagerly awaiting a way out of?
The justifications made sense, and Sebastian knew that he should not give a damn about his wife’s feelings. But as he considered it a little further, he could not ignore the sense that he had done something wrong. That his wife, as tempestuous and frustrating as she was, deserved more.
“My wife,” he said finally, having come to a decision. “Fetch her at once.”
“As you say,” Reginald said with another bow.
About to hurry out of the room, Sebastian was forced to add, “And Reginald, do not take no for an answer. She is to see me at once, and please make it clear to her that I am waiting.”
“Your Grace.” Another bow, and Reginald shuffled out of the room.
They had not spoken since the night of the garden party. This was not a surprise, as Helena made it all too clear how she felt about interactions outside of the public eye. And while this should have been fine with Sebastian, he felt that something was wrong.
He had never meant to treat his wife so coldly. He had never meant to confuse her or trick her or give her the impression that she meant less to him than a nail might to a hammer.
It was more a case of him being careful, not wanting to give the wrong idea, needing her to understand that this marriage was one of convenience only.
Ironically, by treating her so dispassionately with one hand, and so lovingly with the other, he might have made things worse. She was confused, angry, and rightly frustrated by his behavior.
With his friend coming tomorrow, and more months of this marriage to get through, it was time that they cleared a few things up.
And hopefully, not make things worse in the process. Although if history is anything to go by, I would say that is almost as certain as the sun rising on the morrow.
A knock sounded at the door a few moments later, and Helena stepped into the room. She only took one step, careful to remain by the exit as if already planning her escape.
“Ah, Helena.” Sebastian smiled. “Thank you for coming to see me.”
“It was made quite clear to me that I had no choice.” Her tone was cold and removed, and the way she looked at him, the scowl on her face, told him that he was right about their need to talk.
It also told him that this was going to be harder than he had thought.
“Would you like to sit?” He indicated the chair across from the desk.
