Page 20 of Sinfully Daring

Forcing his gaze away from the dance floor, he turned back to the group of men he stood with and concentrated on the conversation.

For the rest of the evening, Sebastian only caught glimpses of Lady Rosamund and did not seek her out. As the evening wore on, he had to admit he was bored to tears. The idea of making polite conversation over supper was too much. He would leave now instead, rude of him but he was tired of being well behaved all the time when everyone else seemed to get away with murder. The heat of the ballroom receded as he walked away. There were fewer people in this part of the house, most on their way to or from the refreshments, or taking a moment of quiet.

“La, all alone, my lord? Surely your little debutante is eager for your company? She’ll cry herself to sleep tonight if you insist on ignoring her so.”

Sebastian stopped, schooling his features into the impassive mask that always served best with Adelia. If she could not rile him, she would grow bored and leave him be. It had taken him a long time to learn that lesson, but he’d learned it well. He turned to face her, very aware that they were not alone, and the ton would delight in yet another scandal to satisfy their desire for an interesting piece of gossip.

“Good evening, Adelia. You look very well tonight.”

As ever, flattery diverted her for a moment and she smiled, smoothing a hand over the wine-coloured silk of her gown. He wondered if she had ever touched her lover with such affection and suspected not. Certainly she had never touched him so, even when she had professed herself madly in love with him. He’d been as gentle and patient with her as he knew how, reassuring her and giving her time, but his touch had never been welcomed.

Before they had married he had misread the signs, believing her lack of physical passion towards him only maidenly reticence, for she had flirted and given every sign of desiring him, and so he had never pressed her for more than a kiss. Once they had married and he discovered the truth, he’d done everything he could think of to please her. He had spoken to her at length during the early months and years of their marriage, needing to discover if anyone had hurt her in the past and made her afraid, or if she had heard stories about what happened between men and women that had twisted her view of lovemaking. He had discovered nothing. Adelia had given him nothing, shutting him out at every turn. When they retired at night, he had suggested they simply lay side by side, holding hands, hoping if they began with something small, she might come to trust him. He had never understood why she would not even try, why the moment they had married she lost all interest in him.

When he had taken her away to France, after the mess she’d made with her artist, she had seemed to regret her actions and he’d offered her another chance to try again, but that too had been thrown back in his face. Within two days of leaving England, she was using her beauty and wit on one bedazzled Frenchman after another. Short of locking her up, he could do nothing to stop her. If he divorced her, she would be ruined, and he was not so cruel as to do that to her, to cut her off from the society she lived for, but he’d sworn then that she would not hurt him that way again. They would lead separate lives and he would find what happiness he could among the wreckage of his life.

“Well, are you not going to dance with the poor child, at least?”

Sebastian sighed inwardly. “I think Mr Price is looking for you,” he said. “You’d best ask him to take you into supper.”

“Why, where are you going?” she demanded, irritation making her usually melodious voice snappy and sharp.

“Home. I’m rather tired.”

Adelia snorted, looking at him in disgust. “How did I come to marry such a dull old man?”

For a moment, Sebastian felt a pang of regret as he imagined hearing those words spoken by another woman, but with gentle humour, teasing him about his great age. Too late, he realised his face must have betrayed him, his lips curving in a wistful smile, for Adelia’s expression grew thunderous. Sebastian cursed himself.

“Go then,” she said, her beautiful eyes cold. “I don’t need you or want you.”

Despite knowing better, Sebastian gave a mirthless laugh. “You have made that abundantly clear, Adelia, but thank you for clarifying. I shall leave with a clear conscience.”

He turned to leave, but she was not yet done with him.

“Will you indeed? Or perhaps you are arranging a tryst in my absence? Will I see Lady Rosamund feign a headache and slip away too?”

She did not modify her tone or lower her voice, and Sebastian experienced a chill of terror at the idea she might harm Rosamund on purpose.

Sebastian whirled about to face her, his face cold and hard.

“Do. Not,” he said, his voice very low.

“Or what?” she sneered, contorting her lovely features into something hard and ugly. “Or you’ll call me out? Will you confront a delicate little female on the field of honour? Oh, no, I forgot. You don’t have the nerve.”

“Stop, Adelia. Or I swear, you will not like my repost,” he said, struggling to keep his temper. Why was it so much harder tonight to ignore her?

She snorted, looking him up and down like he was beneath her notice. “How terrifying you are, my lord. Or you might be, but I know that Lord Hargreaves is too much of a coward to fight, even to defend his wife’s honour.”

“Honour? You truly believe me shooting some poor bastard who’s done nothing but be foolish enough to fall in love with you is honourable? Do you truly believe you have any honour left to you after the hearts you have broken and the damage you have done?” he demanded, so shocked by her wilful blindness to reality that he did not guard his tongue as he ought.

He knew better, but he was all sharp edges these days.

Adelia flushed scarlet, her eyes glittering with the desire for retribution. If he was not careful, there would be the most dreadful scene. Sebastian took a breath. People were already taking note and that would not do.

“Forgive me, Adelia. I believe I am feeling rather out of sorts,” he said, forcing the words out, though they almost choked him. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

He turned then and experienced a jolt of shock, and then remorse as he found himself facing Rosamund. She had a glass of lemonade in her hand and was obviously returning from the refreshments room. Her beautiful face had blanched alabaster white, and he knew at once she had overheard the exchange. Not daring to leave her in proximity with his wife, he took her arm, guiding her away. He did not speak a word to her until he had returned her to the ballroom. He found her brother talking to some of his friends and when they were a few feet away, he stopped, bowing to her.

“Goodnight, my lady,” he said, hoping she could read the regret in his eyes.