Page 66 of Scandal’s Daughter

Chapter 27

“Wherein tempers run high and the gossips delight.”

Sebastian walked the streets in a daze, seeing nothing but his future. A future he could share with her, with Georgiana.

On the one hand he was ecstatic; he had found her, the woman who would be his wife. He’d discovered that impossible creature who didn’t want him for his money or his title. The girl who loved Byron and her ugly mongrel and walked for miles in all weathers.

She made him feel foolish and giddy as a schoolboy, and like the most powerful man on the earth when she smiled at him.

The feeling in his chest grew and expanded until he could believe that everything he felt for her couldn’t possibly be contained in the fragile confines of his body. It was too grand, too powerful, too consuming.

Suddenly Byron and Keats and those overblown romantic sentiments he’d always thought rather foolish and a little embarrassing made perfect sense. They were trying to capture the essence of something that was indeed foolish and fantastical and larger than anything else in life, with words on a page. He wanted to laugh and shout that he understood now. It all made sense now.

With a wry smile he looked around at the fashionable men and women strolling up and down as he made his way to St James’ Street, blithely unaware of his turbulent thoughts as the other side of the coin presented itself to him.

What on earth would he say to his mother?

He imagined a scene where he was brave enough to tell her he’d fallen in love with a girl who was the image of the woman who’d ruined her life. The girl was in fact the Siren’s daughter, the creature who had stolen her husband, left her son without a father, and herself too ashamed and humiliated to face the world again.

How would he put into words the news that Miss Bomford would now take the title that had once been hers? She would become the Duchess of Sindalton. Could he really be so cruel? Could he really push her past hurt aside for his own future?

His face clouded as the future became less clear, the path less obvious. He loved Georgiana and he didn’t care what the gossip mill made of it. They would cause a titillating stir and be the talk of the haut ton for some months. But then another scandal, another poor broken heart or embarrassed cuckold would take the stage ... and their story would fade into history.

But the scandal could destroy his mother, the shock of it putting too great a strain on a nervous creature who spent so much of her time near hysteria as it was. This could really break her mind for good ... or maybe even kill her.

Could he live with the guilt of that?

The impressive Palladian façade of his club came into view and he crossed the street. The white Portland stone gleamed in the sun as he entered the cool and sophisticated surroundings of White’s.

Moving past the empty space in the bow window reserved for the Duke of Wellington, since poor old Brummel had done a run for it, he found a table in a quiet corner and hoped to be left alone.

He wondered if the other Beau of his acquaintance would share the same fate, fleeing to France to escape debtor’s prison. Because he was damned if he’d let him marry Georgiana to save him. He’d happily bail him out, without ever demanding a penny in return, but even for his closest friend he’d not give up the woman he loved.

He loved Beau like the brother he’d never had and would do near anything for him, but not that.

The idea that he’d kissed her made anger and jealousy burn bright and furious behind his eyes and he snatched at the decanter that had been placed quietly before him and poured a large measure.

He closed his eyes and exhaled as the liquor eased through him, infiltrating his blood and creating a warm glow in his stomach. He downed the glass and filled another and sat staring at the amber liquid as he filled and refilled his glass as the day wore on.

His brain ran in anxious circles, around and around the same dilemmas, the same arguments, the same results. He looked up sometime later to see little of the brandy remained in the decanter as was attested by the ache in his head.

The only thing that remained clear to him throughout, the only constant he could hold on to, was that he loved Georgiana. When that thought pierced the fog of his tangled brain it was bright and clear and irrefutable.

It was the only thing.

His attention was taken as a shadow fell over the table and he forced himself to focus on his surroundings rather than the thoughts writhing in his brain.

“Oh God, not now, Beau,” he growled, shaking his head. “You don’t want to be near me now, I swear it.”

“Perhaps not, but I think you’ve spent enough time with this for company,” his friend remarked gesturing for a server to remove it. “Bring a pot of coffee,” he added, watching Sebastian with caution in his eyes. “You’re foxed,” he observed with some surprise. “You must be in a foul mood.”

“Oh, I am,” Sebastian replied, not taking his eyes from the man looking down at him. To his dismay Beau didn’t leave well alone as he’d hoped he might but sat down opposite him.

“I think you should hear it from me,” he said, holding Sebastian’s gaze, his blue eyes troubled. “I’ve offered for Miss Bomford. I know I told you I should but ... well you’re my friend and I won’t do anything behind your back. So, it’s done. I await her reply.”

“I know,” Sebastian said, wishing the bastard hadn’t had the brandy removed because he really needed a bloody drink.

Beau narrowed his eyes, considering. “Well now, I know the gossip mills turn fair and fast, but that’s quick work even for these parts. How do you know that, may I ask?”