Page 27 of Sinfully Daring

“And have everyone say you went to escape me?” she said, glaring at him with icy contempt. “I think not. You will stay here.”

Sebastian saw movement flickering out of the corner of his eye and saw a maid and a footman frozen in an awkward tableau at the far end of the corridor.

“Go away!” he shouted, and they scrambled for cover, melting into the shadows as they hurried down the corridor.

He turned back to Adelia, who stared at him, the determination to get her own way writ large upon her hard, beautiful face. In that moment he felt as though he were a thousand years old. The fury that had energised him abruptly drained away and a sense of hopelessness stole over him.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” he said wearily, knowing he’d lost as he always did. If he went now, she’d do something dreadful: cause a scandal, or even hurt Rosamund. There was no choice but to stay until she cooled down. He just wanted Adelia out of his sight, for this night at the very least, so he did not have to look at her a moment longer.

“There,” Adelia crooned, all smiles now she’d got her own way. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Hargreaves?” She leaned in and stood on her toes, kissing his cheek.

Revulsion shivered through him at her touch, and it took every iota of willpower for it not to show on his face.

“Goodnight, my lord,” she whispered, blowing him a kiss, and then her voice hardened, her eyes glittering with malice. “Sweet dreams.”

Sebastian went back into his room and shut the door. He leaned back against it for a long moment and then forced himself to move, slumping back down into the chair, utterly drained. Putting his head in his hands, he tried to calm himself as desperation settled over him like a smothering pall of black smoke, choking him until he couldn’t breathe. Christ, was he to die like this? Trapped in this hell of his own creation? If only she would die, he thought as despair clawed at his heart. Instantly, he wished he’d never thought it, horrified at his own wickedness.

“God help me,” he said aloud, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes and breathing hard against a sudden burst of emotion. “God help me.”

He didn’t want this, didn’t want this mess of a marriage, of a life. If only he could escape it. If only she would just leave him be, but she never would. He knew that much. She enjoyed her power over him, over all the other poor sods she held in her grasp. They, at least, were lucky. She might leave them frustrated, or broken-hearted, or angry, but she left them. Sebastian would give anything for that, anything for an end to this misery. He had to get away from her, and this time… this time he would. One way or another.

“Couldn’t this have waited until morning? Or at least, a sensible hour of the morning,” the Duke of Bedwin demanded tersely, glaring at the clock over the fireplace. It was a reasonable question considering it was barely two o’clock and Sebastian had roused him from his bed.

“I don’t think so,” Sebastian said, wondering if the man would murder him. He rather hoped he would. It would be one way out of this bloody mess, if a little drastic.

“Well, get on with it then.” Bedwin waved a hand at him, tying his silk dressing gown a little tighter before sitting down behind his desk. He gestured impatiently for Sebastian to take a seat, too.

“It’s my wife,” Sebastian said, his tone grim. “I was going to leave first thing this morning, an extended visit to France, perhaps spend a few months in Italy. But Adelia found out, and she… she does not want me to go.”

“What the devil has this to do with me?” Bedwin asked, and then his eyes darkened. “Your friendship with my daughter—”

“Is exactly that,” Sebastian cut in. “I hold Lady Rosamund in the highest regard and would never willingly cause her trouble, but Adelia has taken exception to it. She rarely troubles herself about my friendships, but… she suspects… she believes I have feelings for the lady.”

Looking at Bedwin was akin to regarding a granite sculpture in that moment and Sebastian was very aware that he addressed a duke, and a man who protected his family at all costs.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice clipped.

“No,” Sebastian said at once, before letting out a breath. “She has been a wonderful friend to me, and I will always be grateful for that. If I were not already married, things would be different, yes. I admit it. But I am neither so foolish nor so cruel as to allow such inappropriate feelings to develop and I would certainly never encourage them in an innocent girl. Your grace, I swear it, upon my honour. I made my bed. I was a damned fool and I’ll pay for that until the end of my days, but I’m not a cad, Bedwin. You know that. There is nothing between us, and there never will be.”

“Knowing that is one thing, but if this is going to cause Rosamund trouble, I give you fair warning, I will kill you,” the duke growled, his expression thunderous.

Sebastian raked a hand through his hair, feeling like a boy facing his father. Absurdly, he wished that were the case, but his father was dead and had not guided him when he’d wished to marry Adelia, had not warned him to have a care, to be cautious, to take a little time to reflect.

“I don’t blame you. Only I don’t know what the hell to do with her. She’s forcing me to remain in London with the threat of damaging Lady Rosamund’s reputation if I don’t. Obviously, I’ll stay, and keep as far from Lady Rosamund as I can get, but… I don’t trust her, Bedwin. She’s spiteful.”

“So, what are you telling me?”

“Warn your daughter to be on her guard and make certain you take care of her. Adelia is clever and cruel. She enjoys playing with people’s emotions, mine most of all.”

“Can’t you do something with her?” Bedwin demanded in frustration.

Sebastian laughed, staring at him. “Like you managed with your first wife, you mean?”

For a moment, he wondered if he’d gone too far. The duke looked positively murderous, but then his anger drained away as quickly as it had arrived, and he slumped back in his chair with a groan.

“Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered, rubbing a weary hand over his face. “Young men ought to be locked up until they’ve sense enough to go out into the world. When they’re about forty might be safe.”

“No argument here,” Sebastian replied with a huff of bitter laughter. “What should I do, Bedwin, tell me? I could lock her up, keep her prisoner. That’s my right as her husband. Or should I beat her, frighten her into not daring to disobey me?”