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Venetia sighed and decided the truth—or part of it—was best. At least Lady Indigo couldn’t see her face. “The gentleman who was here last night is the son of the man for whom my father worked for nearly twenty years. He recognized me and wanted to know how Papa did.”
“So he’s lurking in the woods, waiting for my attention to wander, so you can have a secret tryst behind my back?”
“Not at all, m’lady.” Indignation, not embarrassment, burned Venetia’s face though lord knew how she kept her voice even. “I was a child when Papa took the job as bailiff to old Mr Wells. Master Sebastian was always kind to me and...fond of Papa.” There was a basis of truth to this. No need for Lady Indigo to be told, or led to infer, anything more.
“Then park me before the ducks and go and have your private conversation with him, girl.” The old woman sniffed. “You know I can’t abide whispers and secret trysts, but if that’s all there is to it, then of course you must tell Mr Wells what he wants to know about your father.”
Venetia couldn’t believe she’d been granted leave so easily. “I see him on the path in the distance now. Thank you, ma’am.” Hastily she wrapped the paisley shawl more closely around Lady Indigo’s shoulders and put the bag of breadcrumbs with which to feed the ducks on her lap. “I’ll be gone no more than five minutes.” She swallowed. “Or six, if it doesn’t rain.”
With a sanctioned conversation with Sebastian, in the open, nearly upon her, Venetia’s heart was creating all manner of strange tattoos within her chest as she hurried toward him. Last night, the shock of recognizing him had been overwhelming. Despite the fact her body had responded to him as it always had, she’d not been able to give herself up to the joy she’d imagined she’d feel at such a reunion.
The time that had passed, his words, his actions...his entanglements with two society matrons had, she believed, made it clear he no longer felt for her as he declared he had four years earlier.
So, what did last night’s passionate kiss really mean?
Certainly, that he was pleased to see her. But...marriage?
Venetia felt she had good reason to be on her guard. Sebastian was no innocent; she was very aware of that. And words were cheap.
“Good lord, what did you tell the old lady?” Sebastian, who’d been leaning against the trunk of a massive oak tree, came toward her. He was as tall and slender, yet well-built, as she remembered him; a little older, but more hand
some, his strong jaw in contrast to the softness of his beautiful mouth and his expression as he held his arms out to her, smiling.
“The truth,” Venetia said as she walked into his embrace, allowing him to hold her for a moment before she stepped back. Every fiber of her being responded as if no time at all had elapsed, but she was wary. Sebastian seemed to think they could pick up exactly where they’d left off. As if there’d been no pain, no angst, no disappointments to mar the decisions that had been made. “I told her my father had worked for yours for twenty years and that you were keen to know how he did.”
“As I am. And…” His voice dropped as he searched her face, “What about us?”
“I said I’d known you since I was a child.”
“And that it took ten years—and my return from the Grand Tour—before we realized there could be no one else for each other?”
“That’s hardly true,” Venetia scoffed gently, but his look was deadly serious as he regarded her with the old intensity. No man had ever looked at her with such consideration: as if he were deciding whether to consult her on a matter of national importance or kiss her senseless.
“I married Dorothea because you insisted upon it.” A deep furrow appeared between Sebastian’s brow as he cupped her chin, his thumbs gently contouring her cheekbones. “And only because you refused me, Venetia.” His voice was now a whisper. “Again and again.”
The familiar pain washed through her. She didn’t need reminding it had been her doing. Yet what else could she have done? “You know it wasn’t because I didn’t love you,” she murmured.
“I know that very well. You are very gifted at making your position seem like there can be no other.” His smile was rueful. “And you are very determined.”
“I was hardly going to elope with you, Sebastian. Much as I would have liked to.” She sent him a rueful smile. “You know it would have meant my father would like as not have been dismissed. And you had not yet come into your inheritance.”
“So, that was then.” He brought her hand up to his lips. “What about now?”
“All I know is that in the time since we parted, you’ve been married, fathered a child, lost a wife, and then been involved in several very public and scandalous romantic entanglements.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I tried not to hear all the lurid details, though that was hard when the gossip sheets were full of them.”
“You think that means I don’t still love you as much as before?”
She didn’t like the way he dismissed what was, to her mind, the greatest concern: the women with whom he’d been involved since he’d become widowed. “People’s feelings change. They subside with time. Of course they do.”
“Have yours?”
She weighed this up. The surprise at seeing him last night had sent her world spinning. Yes, she’d been consumed with the old feelings of longing, while his kiss had whipped up all the wonderful sensations of being in love and being desired. But, all those months earlier, at the same time as learning that Dorothea had died, she’d also heard of his affairs with Lady Banks and Mrs Compton. It had felt like a betrayal; as if he’d been unfaithful to her.
For the three years of his marriage, she’d held a girlish candle to what might have been. But this fourth and final year, she’d shifted her thinking to what she’d considered a more mature approach. Pragmatic by nature, she’d had to assume that Sebastian had moved on with his life and that he barely thought of her.
That had meant she would have to do the same.
So, her shock at their reunion in the long gallery, which had made so clear the strength of his feelings, had filled her with the most profound happiness mixed with the greatest doubt, too. Sebastian was a handsome, soon-to-be-titled gentleman who could marry whomever he pleased. In view of the reasons why they couldn’t marry before, any association with Venetia would be in the nature of dalliance only—surely? And Venetia didn’t think she could bear that.
