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“Caroline,” Annalise said simply, then turned toward Lavinia. “Dear, I know that Caroline is not your favorite person right now, but just look at her. She isn’t happy at all.”
“Well, she didn’t have to marry him,” Lavinia said, with a little too much bitterness seeping into her voice. Why would Caroline be unhappy? She got what she wished for. Hell, she got what Lavinia wished for.
“She thought she did,” Annalise insisted. “I truly think you need to speak to her.”
“I can’t, Annalise. Please, do not start with your mission to get us to be friendly to each other again. I am not angry with Caroline, I promise. I am just—” Lavinia swallowed and clenched her fingers into fists by her side.
“Grieving. I know. But so is she. Do not forget that she’d lost the uncle she adored a few months before her wedding.”
Lavinia looked at Caroline again. She was smiling politely and speaking to people approaching her. She did not look crushed to Lavinia. But she didn’t look happy either.
However, Caroline had always been able to mask her true feelings. She only showed whatever she wished to show. Was there truth to Annalise’s words? Was Caroline unhappy?
But Dane placed a hand on the small of Caroline’s back at that moment and smiled down at her. That look in his eyes could not have been a lie. They were close.
Devil take it. Of course, they were close. They were husband and wife. They shared a life, a duchy… a bed.
Lavinia turned away and squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t,” she whispered and pushed her way out of the ballroom.
She needed some air. Perhaps in time, she would find the grace from deep within her to make peace with the entire situation. Perhaps in time, she would be able to look Caroline in the eye and smile… genuinely, or at least insincerely. Perhaps in time, she could forget about Dane and squash the love she had carried for him for over a decade.
Perhaps someday. But that day was not today.
* * *
Sebastian stood on the balcony, looking into the distance, his gaze unfocused. He had barely finished the dance with Miss Aurora Cunningham when more ladies surrounded him—mothers wanting to introduce their daughters and asking for a dance.
He had managed to leave the ballroom and found refuge in the gentlemen’s retiring room, only to be accosted right outside the door.
He couldn’t take it anymore, so instead of returning to the ballroom, he had evaded everyone and slipped onto the balcony, hoping for some privacy.
He could only hope that Frau Elinor was doing a good job of chaperoning Victoria. Sebastian didn’t need some leech taking hold of his niece while he was cowering on the balcony.
Sebastian took a deep breath of fresh night air. The darkness enveloped him and, for the first time in days, he finally felt as though he was back in France.
Perhaps if he stood there for a few more moments, the same calmness as the one that had lived within him throughout his entire life—but which deserted him in England—would return. All the noise that came with becoming a marquess crushed Sebastian’s mind and left him feeling winded and tired even if he hadn’t been doing much all day.
The constant communication with members of the aristocracy, conversing with managers, attending balls and other social events, all the while preparing Victoria for her coming out and fending off advances of marriage-minded young ladies just crushed Sebastian’s spirit.
Now, standing on the balcony, he wished more than anything that he could be back in his little studio, back in his home in France. He would lock the door, block out all the noise, and paint.
Only even if he did lock himself in the studio right now, he wouldn’t be able to draw a straight line. The muse had deserted him at the same time as the peace of mind left him.
The door to the balcony squeaked open, followed by the swishing of the skirts and chaotic breathing.
Wonderful. Someone had followed him here.
Sebastian slowly turned toward the lady, who had so rudely disrupted his peace, when she crashed full-body into him.
Sebastian caught her against him, his hands on her arms. He froze for one long moment as the lady flailed, trying to disentangle herself from him. Or at least he hoped that was her aim, for she had enticed an entirely different reaction from him.
Sebastian knew that he needed to push her away, demand her to leave, or perhaps, chastise her for rushing onto dark balconies without a chaperone, no less! But to his shame, he couldn’t quite make himself move.
Well, one part of him was happily moving in an upward direction.How typical.
A simple press of a woman’s ample bosom against his shirt, the scent of lilies emanating from her hair reaching his nose, and his male flesh hardened as if he were an untried youth.
How predictable indeed.
