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Chapter 15
When Sebastian agreed to meet Lady Carlyle in her chambers, the last thing he expected was to accidentally witness the dramatic argument between Lady Lavinia and the Duke of Kensington.
Lady Lavinia was so desolate after the fight, that Sebastian couldn’t help but offer her wine. Surely, her sadness was the only reason for his invitation.
If following Lady Carlyle into her chambers felt like a journey to the gallows, inviting Lady Lavinia into his studio felt easy.
Easier still was sending a note via his discreet footman to convey to Lady Carlyle his apology.
Even easier was painting Lady Lavinia as the sun was setting and bathing one side of her face in red. The shadows played perfectly on her cheeks, accentuating her dimples as she smiled while drinking wine and recounting her life story.
Sebastian knew he wouldn’t capture her likeness under this perfect light in one session, but he wasn’t sure he’d get another try, either. As it was, he was courting trouble by hiding away in his studio with an unmarried young lady.
“…And then Caroline told us she was betrothed to Kensington,” Lady Lavinia breathed and took another sip of wine. “It was the hardest day of my life. Well, one of the hardest…”
“You didn’t mind Lady Payne marrying the duke before, yet you felt strongly about him marrying Caroline?”
She took another sip. “You do not understand.” Her voice was slightly slurred, and she swayed in her seat. “Annalise is like a sister to me. We’ve known each other since early childhood, and she saved my life from becoming a complete tragedy. I love her, and there is nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice for her.”
“But not Caroline?” Sebastian asked as he painted cherry-red brushstrokes over her cheeks. The sun was setting rapidly, and quite soon he wouldn’t be able to paint anymore.
“Caroline and Annalise became fast friends during Annalise’s come-out ball. I’d been friends with Annalise forever, and suddenly all I heard from her was Caroline this and Caroline that—”
“You sound jealous,” Sebastian noted with a soft smile.
Lady Lavinia sniffed and took another sip of wine. “She is beautiful, rich, beloved by many—including my best friend—andis married to the man I love. Yes, of course, I am jealous. I always have been. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t love her, nor does it mean that I don’t want her to be happy.”
She crinkled her brows as if she wasn’t certain she was making any sense.
“Here’s what the issue is,” she said with a wave of her glass. “Caroline is happy and would be happy without Kensington. She didn’thaveto marry him. Annalise was a penniless widow. So there’s the difference. I would give Caroline everything I have in a heartbeat if she truly needed it. But I wasn’t ready to give up Dane, because I thought I needed him more. And perhaps that is selfish, I know… And perhaps I haven’t been the best friend to her lately, but… It is difficult to be the only one who is miserable.”
The sun set completely while she spoke, enveloping his studio in darkness. Sebastian squinted at his canvas, illuminated by the lone fireplace in the corner of the room. No, it was too dark to continue. He put the brush down and lit a few candles.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you are being selfish,” he said, as he perched his hips against the table with art supplies.
“You don’t?”
“No, you have a right to fight for your happiness. You have a right to feel sad and angry when you lose. You can’t just expect the feelings to disappear. It will take time.”
A breath whooshed out of Lady Lavinia’s lungs. Did she expect him to judge her and condemn her for her behavior?
“But tell me about you,” Lady Lavinia suddenly said. “I feel like I’ve been talking for hours.”
Sebastian crossed his arms across his chest. “What would you like to know?”
“Everything. I do not know a thing about you. How does a French gentleman and a Princess of Mecklenburg-Schwerin’s uncle become an English Lord?”
Now, wasn’t that a question requiring a two-hour answer? Well, Lady Lavinia seemed to require a distraction. “Do not let my accent fool you,” Sebastian said with a smile. “I have no French blood in my body, although I love the country endlessly. My mother was the Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin’s daughter. Frau Elinor’s sister. She married an English gentleman against her family’s approval and fled to England before I was born. The English gentleman was not titled, you see.”
Sebastian shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like remembering the past. “She didn’t quite fit in England either. So when my father died—I was about eight at the time—she moved to France with me. So that’s where I grew up.”
“Is that why you dislike England, so?” Lady Lavinia studied his face with rapt attention.
A chuckle left his lips as Sebastian contemplated his answer. “I apologize that this is the impression I made. I do not dislike England, I just prefer France.”
“You seem, at least to me, to hold the English aristocracy in contempt.”
Sebastian grimaced. Had he been this forward in his frustrations? “I do not. I suppose I am annoyed that I have to be here, but you have to understand that I have not been part of the aristocracy for most of my life. Even though I was born to a duke’s daughter and an English gentleman, that was not how I was raised. I am a man of science and art. I’ve spent most of my days locked in tiny, dark rooms tending to my business. Having to interact with so many people is… difficult for me. It took a toll on my sanity, and I lost my peace of mind when I came to England. So if you think you saw contempt, I apologize. It was mainly my frustration.”
