Page 70 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

“Did… did you ever ask your father why you were not permitted to form friendships as a child?”

Sebastian stared at her, almost bemused by the gentle curiosity gleaming in her eyes. He could not recall ever speaking of his childhood to a friend, much less to a woman. He had always existed firmly within the present. What purpose was served by lingering upon the past or dreaming of a future that might never arrive? Still, it pleased him that she wished to know. Far more than it ought.

“He encouraged me to form connections with young lords who were properly devoted to their duties,” Sebastian said. “But playing merely for the pleasure of it was, in his estimation, an indulgence better suited to boys of the lower classes. A part of me understood his reasoning. Though I was often lonely, I do not recall resenting him for it. I eventually formed friendships at Eton and university.”

She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ears. “Your father always encouraged us to play, even when my mother believed we should always conduct ourselves more like young ladies.”

A tense sensation passed through Sebastian’s chest. He had wondered more than once what his father had been like with the family he had kept hidden, but he had always thrust the question aside before it could take shape. “He had different expectations for me.”

“Of course,” she said softly. “You were his heir.”

Though she attempted to sound brisk and unaffected, Sebastian heard the ache beneath the words.

“What was it like,” he asked, “having him in your life?”

Her eyes widened. “I… I scarcely recall a time when he was not part of it. Your father made my mother happy. She smiled whenever he entered a room.” Darcy swallowed, her expression softening beneath the weight of memory. “And he loved me. I can say that with certainty because I felt it. When I escaped into the fields to catch frogs or butterflies, he would sit beneath a tree with a book and watch over me from the shade. He never complained or ordered me back to the house. He was always so very patient.”

Her eyes shimmered with raw emotion. “He was the only father I ever knew, and he never treated me differently from Sarah, Jane, or Emelia.”

“With Caroline and me, he possessed a sterner nature,” Sebastian said. “Gentlemanly and ladylike conduct were expected of us at all times. Yet he was not entirely without whimsy. He took us onto the lake on many Sunday afternoons. He taught me to hunt and climb trees. When Caroline was old enough to follow me everywhere, I insisted she accompany us, and he allowed it, though she frightened the life from him more than once.”

A tender smile curved Darcy’s mouth. “He was a good father.”

Silence settled between them, and Sebastian made no effort to disturb it.

“I am sorry,” she said after a moment. “I never told you how deeply I regret arriving in your life without considering what the truth might do to you. It must have hurt terribly.”

That damnable wrenching sensation scythed through his heart once more.

“You need not apologize,” he said gruffly. “I know that a good man may still possess grave faults. I cannot condemn my father entirely or allow this secret to destroy every memory I have of him. He gave me too much kindness, too much guidance, for me to resent him without measure.”

The emotion in her gaze told him what she did not say. She hoped his mother and Caroline might one day prove equally accepting. “They will never know,” he said flatly.

A soft sound escaped her, and she turned away, looking over the countryside now silvered by the light of the half-moon.

“Would you raise your own children in the same manner?” she asked, making an obvious attempt to guide their conversation elsewhere.

“I have given very little thought to imaginary children.”

“Does that mean you possess no desire to marry and have a family, my lord?”

“Eventually, of course. I know my duty.”

“Duty?”

“Surely you, of all people, understand duty, Miss Whitley.”

She regarded him as though she wished to reach beneath the cool facade he presented to the world and uncover every carefully guarded truth.

“I understand that, as an earl, you have obligations to your tenants, your family, and the realm. But I do not believe one should marry solely for the sake of duty. What joy or contentment could ever be found in such a union?”

“Ah. So you are one of those incurable romantics.”

Darcy laughed. She was loveliness itself. By God, beneath the pale light of the moon, she seemed almost fashioned from it. That soft, persistent desire unfurled inside him once more, and Sebastian tensed against it. Would there ever come a time when he could look at her without wanting to touch her? Without wondering how her mouth might feel beneath his?

“I do not believe I am more sentimental than the average woman,” she said. “In fact, one might argue that I am being more practical than you. Marriage is intended to endure until death parts a couple. Surely it is sensible to possess some affection and respect for the person with whom one must spend an entire lifetime.”

She tilted her head, her expression earnest. “What if there is only misery because no attachment existed at the beginning? Imagine being condemned to endure such unhappiness for fifty years. That seems a very severe punishment for satisfying one’s duty.”