How much thought did thirteen-year-old boys expend on such matters, anyway?
When Sebastian returned from the Grand Tour and encountered Miss Venetia Stone—now a young woman—after an absence of four years, his feelings were very different.
As were his father’s. Venetia, at eight, had been a little doll to indulge as much—or more—than he’d indulged his more stolid, less pretty daughter, Libby.
At eighteen, the penniless daughter of his bailiff, who’d now caught the eye of his son, had become a threat.
For, in Sebastian’s opinion, not all the Grecian beauties and Spanish dancers could compare with the allure that Miss Venetia presented him in just her little fingertip.
It was no different, now.
He gazed at the rippling waters of the lake that had been still just a moment before. How easily the calm was disturbed by the merest breeze he thought as he reflected on his own life. His own feelings.
He’d been as good a husband as could be hoped for. He’d offered Dorothea everything she had wanted: his fidelity, security, and, in the early days, his company when she seemed to desire it.
But she had not loved him.
Nor had he loved her, though for the years they’d rubbed along together, it had been tolerable. He’d thrown himself into different pursuits, and he’d had unfettered access to her bed, for she’d desired a son as much as he—and his father—had. She just hadn’t enjoyed the means required to produce one.
Venetia, by contrast, had had his heart: utterly and completely. And when Dorothea’s death had freed him, he’d realized more than ever how much he valued that: the true love of a woman who wanted nothing more of him than his affection and fidelity.
“Mr Wells?”
He spun around, twigs crackling as his boots dug into the soft soil.
“Miss Reeves.”
She took a step forward, wrapping her shawl more closely around her shoulders. The weather had become colder as the day had progressed, and she was underdressed. She shivered noticeably and smiled, and Sebastian felt a twinge of dismay. Glancing in Venetia’s direction, he was glad to see her now wheeling her elderly charge away from them. If he had to convince her that she was the only woman for him, he didn’t want an eye-fluttering debutante suggesting otherwise.
“I saw you with Lady Indigo’s companion. I am correct, am I not?”
Was there a challenge in her tone? His thoughts darted back to the previous night. Yes, he’d admired her, but surely he’d not flirted. She surely had not gained the wrong impression from the little in the way of exchange that they’d had.
“You were kissing her.”
Sebastian inclined his head. “I was.” There seemed little else to say.
Miss Reeves looked thoughtful. She glanced at her feet and nibbled her fingertip. Was she disappointed? About to find something wrong in such an action?
Just as he was prepared to offer a robust defense of his beloved’s exemplary character, Miss Reeves said quickly, “I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw it, for last night I gained the distinct impression that you and I had been invited here by Lady Quamby and her sister for the purpose of providing them with some entertainment. Matchmaking entertainment, you know.”
Despite himself, Sebastian laughed. “I gained the same impression.”
“But as your interest is clearly elsewhere, as is mine, I thought perhaps to suggest something that could be to our mutual benefit.” She pressed her lips together and shivered again. Though whether this was from cold or anticipation, it was hard to tell. “Well, to my benefit, at any rate,” she added.
Sebastian couldn’t have been more surprised at her directness.
“Is that so, Miss Reeves?”
She nodded. “Yes, Mr Wells, that is so. Perhaps you would like to hear it?”
“Our little scheme has been more successful than I’d imagined.” Antoinette curled a tendril of hair around her forefinger and sent Fanny one of her familiar smug looks. Antoinette prided herself on her ability to arrange a perfect match—which was surprising given the number of short-term love affairs she enjoyed.
The sisters had stopped beneath the spreading branches of an elm tree and, in the distance, could see Lady Indigo being wheeled by her companion along the path toward the house. Soon the pair would be inside and no doubt enjoying the cozy fire in the living room. It was fortunate that Lady Indigo preferred early nights for Fanny suspected she might have been scandalized by Antoinette’s behavior the previous midnight as she’d sung and danced for Mr Wells, while Fenton had looked on in amusement, Quamby with fond toleration, and Miss Reeves with wide-eyed bewilderment.
“You claim success already?” Fanny asked. “Has our Mr Sebastian Wells proposed to Miss Arabella Reeves?”
“No, but he will do so at the Christmas Ball.”
“Very precise. And how can you be so confident?”
Antoinette stroked the fox pelt about her throat. “Arabella is very taken and keen to explore any means that might sanction the pair of them getting a little...closer.” She raised an eyebrow. “In fact, she suggested that dancing tuition in preparation of the ball might be helpful, in view of the fact she saw little society last year due to mourning her mother.”
“She wants to engage a dancing tutor?”
Antoinette nodded. “She certainly does.” Her look was knowing. “Apparently she fears she may be shown up by her lack of practice .”
Fanny shrugged. “That doesn’t mean she’s focused on impressing Sebastian. It would be natural for her to want to be shown to advantage. Our Christmas Ball will introduce her to many more candidates than Mr Wells.”
“It was the way she said it, so soon after mentioning Sebastian.” Antoinette looked decided. “And then, no sooner had Arabella left the room, than Sebastian mentioned to me that he was enjoying himself more than he’d expected, given that he is so soon out of his own period of mourning.”
The sisters began to stroll down the hill toward the lake.
“He’s certainly found his own way of unburdening his grief,” Fanny scoffed lightly. “Not that I condemn him for wanting feminine diversion. I suppose his affair with Barbara Compton has ended. As for the duel, it’s lucky he only pinked the poor husband, or he’d never have been allowed back in the country.”
Antoinette nodded. “For such a quiet gentleman and, as we’ve heard, loyal and faithful husband, he did distinguish himself as a rather unexpected rake in the few short months after poor Dorothea died.” She stopped to gaze at a family of ducks on the water’s surface. Some years it was frozen by now, but the weather had been milder, offering ample opportunity for walks in the gentle sunshine. “I wonder if this is what gave Miss Reeves pause before the floodgates of passion were opened following last night’s musical interlude. Did you see the way both Mr Wells and Miss Reeves were affected by their meeting? Why, this morning they were both in a state of extreme agitation and, when I was looking out of my window, I saw Miss Reeves actually accost Mr Wells among the trees just off the path that led from the lake back to the house. Yes, very clandestine it was. And then, when she came back here, she suggested a dancing tutor! Which of course means dancing practice with just the pair of them.”