Seb knew he was being cowardly as he darted into the door next to the kitchen. Yet he still took the dark servants’ corridor and stairs back to his bedchamber. Watching her cosying up to that fool Westbridge in plain view was horrendous. The fact that she would do so right under his nose after last night was just plain cruel. His bedchamber was thankfully empty when he arrived in it, although Gray had laid out his evening clothes before disappearing.
He dressed quickly and, for the first time since he had met her, without any thought. Or so he told himself as he stubbornly refused to check his reflection in the mirror. What difference would it make if his hair was mussed or his chin needed shaving? A quick swipe of a razor over his stubbly jaw wasn’t going to alter things. If he looked a wreck, it matched how he felt. Wretched and broken. The bullet which had almost killed him had hurt less.
But he had nearly gone back for more.
When she had followed him across the lawn and called to him, Seb had wanted to stop and forgive her, accepting whatever half-cocked and shoddy explanation she gave him simply because he couldn’t bear the thought of tonight being the end. What if she had wanted him again tonight or in the future when the bloom had faded from her advantageous, passionless marriage to her Duke? The married women of the aristocracy took lovers all the time. Both partners did. It was the way of things once the obligatory heir and a spare had come squalling into the world. But then what? Having part of her rather the whole would be torture. Never-ending and soul-destroying torture. Yet he was tempted. That was why he had quickened his pace and effectively hidden himself away for the better part of an hour. Self-preservation.
Perhaps this was how his mother had been with his father? Devastated at not being important enough to truly matter but so hopelessly in love that she accepted whatever crumbs he tossed her way? Seb had seen how tragically that had ended and had no desire to allow history to repeat itself. Ultimately it was better this way. Sever all ties cleanly and then let this new and agonising open wound heal over. He snatched up his pocket watch and glanced at it impatiently.
Dinner started in five minutes; many of the guests would already be seated. In twenty, the King’s Elite would come and within an hour his mission would be over. All he had to do was avoid her till then.
He took the servants’ stairs back down just in case and emerged near to the door of the dining room, only to stop dead in his tracks. Gem was there waiting for him, watching the grand staircase while wringing her hands as if in the same turmoil as him. Wearing the same dress she had worn on the shooting field, her usually perfect coiffure wilting. The loose tendrils framing her face poker-straight. Seb considered retreating back the way he had come, but she sensed him and turned around. Her lovely eyes wider than he had ever seen them.
‘Oh, Seb! Thank the Lord...’
He couldn’t do this. Wouldn’t do this. He held up his hand and surged towards the sanctuary of the dining room. ‘Not now.’ And not ever.
‘But, Seb!’ She grabbed his arm and tugged. ‘Something unexpected has happened that I reallyneedto tell you about.’
Ruthlessly, he used his superior strength to escape and straightened his coat. Then ploughed through the door, fighting to compose himself in front of the sea of aristocratic faces sat at the table. ‘Good evening.’
‘There you are, Millcroft!’ Penhurst stood and stepped away from his chair. ‘You’ve been a difficult fellow to peg down today. My wife tells me you are leaving on the morrow. Early.’
‘Indeed. I have neglected my affairs long enough.’
‘Talking of which, I have something I have been meaning to discuss with you. Do you have a few minutes?’
‘But, my dear, the soup is about to be served,’ Penny stated.
‘Then tell the kitchens to wait!’ Penhurst snapped at his wife as if she were a servant and just like one she shot to her feet and went off to do his bidding. He leaned closer and whispered in Seb’s ear, ‘I think you will be very interested in what I have to say. Especially after you see the contents of my cellar.’
