Page 65 of Scandal’s Daughter

“He’s offered for me,” she said, wanting him to understand how precarious her position was. She would have to marry someone, she’d be no man’s mistress, stuck in a half-life between his worlds. “So, has Lord Nibley.”

His eyes widened, his throat working as he seemed to struggle to find the words for his next question.

“You’ve ... have you ...”

“No,” she replied with a sad smile. “No, I’ve not answered yet. I couldn’t when ...”

She stared at him, unwilling to put into words what ought to be blatantly obvious.

“I can’t ...” he exclaimed, holding out his hands to her, the sentence left undone, hanging in the air between them.

He can’t marry you, she thought. That’s what he’s trying to say. Except suddenly his hands were cradling her face, his lips so close she could feel his breath on her skin.

“I can’t let you marry someone else!” he rasped, his voice harsh and urgent, his eyes so wild she took a breath. “I’ll run mad if you do, Georgiana. Please, please, love. Tell me you’ll not accept them?”

She felt her breathing hitch, wanting so much to tell him what he wanted to hear, but he hadn’t asked.

“I ... I must marry, your grace. You know I must.”

“Your grace?” he bit out. “Not your grace, dammit, Georgiana. Sebastian. Say my name.”

“Sebastian,” she whispered, and she realised she was trembling, caught in the fire in his eyes, terrified she might accept whatever indecent offer he put to her.

“Tell me you still love me,” he commanded, and she felt as though he really had control of her thoughts, of her tongue, as she was powerless to refuse the need in his expression. She stared into the dark of his irises, lost again in the little universe of golden flecks that burned in his eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you, Sebastian.”

She heard the catch in his breath, felt the warmth of his thumb as it caressed her cheek.

“Will you be in tomorrow morning if I call on you?” he asked, a new note of determination in his voice.

She nodded, too shocked to speak, hope blooming to life like a flame in her chest, warming the heart that had been so frozen with sorrow since he’d left her.

“I’ll call on you,” he said, so assured in his manner she couldn’t doubt him. There was a look in his eyes that promised so much. “I have things to do, to consider ... things I must ... arrange. But I’ll come, I swear it.”

She nodded again, blinking as her vision blurred.

He stepped closer, their bodies touching, here in the book shop, where anyone could walk in and see. “Wait for me,” he pleaded. “Wait for me, love. Promise?”

“P-promise,” she stammered, half laughing, half crying as he laughed too, and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“I won’t let you down, my love,” he said, his smile wide and brilliant now. “Until tomorrow.”

He stepped back and began to walk away, but then paused and turned back to her, as though needing to reassure himself she was really there.

“Until tomorrow,” she whispered, pressing her fingers to her lips in wonder. Until tomorrow. She hugged the words to her heart, watching as he strode out of sight.