A shadow of discomfort crossed his face before he said, “Venetia! We spoke about this yesterday. After Dorothea’s death I became entangled with…more than one woman, as I told you. The second was…well, you said you didn’t want to hear about it. Suffice to say, she threw herself at me!”
Reluctantly, Venetia allowed him to take her in his arms.
He tucked her head beneath his chin and held her gently. “I’m so sorry…I was going to tell you everything but...the details seemed unimportant when we had so little time.”
“Did you ask her to marry you?” Venetia jerked her head up, her breath quickening.
“God, no!”
“Well, that’s what she wants.”
“I know.” He sounded miserable. “Some months ago, when she told me about…” He stopped, sighed, and started again. “It’s possible I gave her the impression that I would marry her. But that was only if...I was required to do the honorable thing.”
“The honorable thing?” Venetia burst out. “What else haven’t you told me, Sebastian?”
“But I thought you knew, my darling! I thought you’d forgiven me?”
Angrily, Venetia dashed away a tear. “She seems to think there is still a great deal between you.”
“There is nothing between us. Not since I met you again—though that goes without saying.” He spoke with energy before his tone changed and he said, wearily, “I just wish she’d accept that there will continue to be nothing between us and...leave me alone.”
Halting footsteps sounded and then the thumping of a cane upon the floorboards which heralded Lady Indigo’s arrival.
“Venetia! You’ve been gone an age, and I’m ready for my bed! What do you think you’re doing? Talking to a young gentleman? I beg your pardon, Mr Wells, but Venetia has work to do. My warming pan, for starters! And my warm milk. Now! It’s late, and I need to be up early. We both do!”
Venetia curtsied, sending Sebastian a baleful look before she pushed her shoulders back and proudly offered her arm to her employer.
Sebastian bowed. “Good evening, Lady Indigo. Miss Stone,” he said formally as Venetia turned her back on him and took a few steps away. “I hope you’ll both sleep well.” He cleared his throat, adding, after them, “And, Miss Stone, I hope you’ll remember that this changes nothing…”
Venetia looked over her shoulder.
“Here,” he added softly, putting his hand to his chest.
For a moment, she hesitated. Sebastian stood, watching her in the light cast by the moon that shone through the diamond panes of the window embrasure; every bit as handsome and tall and proud as she remembered him. With his hand still on his chest, there was no doubting his sincerity.
That was the problem.
His, but also hers.
And as her gaze took in the scene, dominated by everything she’d ever hoped and dreamed of, she realized that it really was just as much her problem, as his.
Sebastian still loved Venetia, and that was all that was important.
Much less important, surely, than her pride and wounded feelings.
The thought gave her strength as she returned her attention to her employer who was saying something about wanting Venetia to darn a stocking before the morning.
Venetia’s responses tripped off her tongue like an automaton.
Meanwhile, her mind raced over what would be required for Sebastian to disappoint Miss Reeves’s unfounded girlish hopes.
For that was what would have to happen in order for Venetia to claim her future with the man she loved.
And whom she deserved so much more than Miss Reeves.
Chapter 11
“Well, sister dearest, your matchmaking nose was not quite following the right scent, it would appear,” Fanny said when Arabella had left the drawing room. Arabella had remained quite a long time after Lady Indigo had made her departure, as Fanny and Arabella had quizzed her on her feelings toward marriage—either with or without her father’s blessing.
Gazing toward the doors, Fanny added, thoughtfully, “Nor, to be fair, was mine.”
“Well, Arabella is madly in love.” Antoinette nibbled her little fingernail on her right hand while she toyed with the cards on her lap with the other.
“While Sebastian’s ardor has cooled. Clearly.” Fanny pondered the situation. She had been quite sure she’d seen Sebastian gazing mournfully after Miss Reeves on a number of occasions. He also had seemed a little jittery—very much a hallmark of a gentleman in love. “Do you suppose he’s nervous at the prospect of having to confront Miss Reeves’s father? Old Mr Reeves and old Mr Wells are on friendly terms, I believe, but old Mr Reeves is set very much on a match between Arabella and Yarrowby.” She hesitated, adding cautiously, “Or perhaps Sebastian is afraid of being horsewhipped by Arabella’s father for his bad behavior.”
“Goodness! We hadn’t taken account of the...baby who’s on its way!” Antoinette put her hands to her mouth. “Sebastian was such a model husband to Dorothea, but in the twelve months since her death, he’s certainly distinguished himself by the scandals in which he’s become embroiled.”
Fanny nodded. “Of course, things like duels can be forgotten, but...a child is not so easy to discount.”
“Do you believe Sebastian when he claims it’s not his? He was quite vehement in his denials several days ago. I overheard Quamby mention the topic in conversation.” She dropped her voice to whisper loudly, “It was very much secret gentleman’s business, but naturally I managed to hover close enough to hear.”
“Naturally,” Fanny agreed, drily.
“Sebastian became quite hot under the collar when Quamby charged him with it.” Antoinette clicked her tongue, her eyes wide with the excitement of the intrigue, before reaching for the bell. “Goodness, I think I need a drink while we decide what to do.”
“Well, don’t call for the servants just yet if you want to continue this discussion,” Fanny said sharply, rising and going to the sideboard. She removed the stopper of the brandy decanter and poured themselves both a measure before a creaking chair made her say with a start, “Goodness Venetia, how long have you been sewing in the dark? I suppose I should offer you a drink, though I’m not sure if Lady Indigo would approve. Especially since you do have an early start in the morning.”
“I would like a drink very much,” the girl said, glancing away as Fanny handed her a glass of the amber liquid.
“I didn’t notice you come in.” Fanny smiled, while she tried to think back over whether she and her sister had spoken on matters unsuitable for Miss Stone’s ears: like their relief that Lady Indigo would be gone in the morning.
“I came back a few minutes ago because Lady Indigo wanted her stocking darned before tomorrow’s journey, and I needed the light.”
“I wasn’t calling you to account,” Fanny said, amused. And relieved. She peered more closely at the young woman, suddenly concerned by the sheen she saw in her eyes. “You look upset, my dear.” She hadn’t taken much account of Lady Indigo’s companion. The girl had hardly spoken two words in all the time she’d been under their roof, other than to answer Lady Indigo when required and declare she wished to continue the dancing lessons.