Chapter 24

The evening was dark, the sky low with clouds, the dusk settling fast over the trees around the estate. Eleanor sat in the wingback chair in the drawing room by the window, staring out at the darkening night.

"My lady? Should I light the lamps now?" the butler asked, startling her as he appeared in the doorway.

"Please do." Eleanor inclined her head in permission.

"Very good, my lady. Should I stoke the fire?"

"Please do," Eleanor repeated.

The butler crossed into the room and stoked the fire, making the bright flames flare up and cast a warm glow across the silk hearthrug. Eleanor watched them briefly, then stared out into the darkening night outside. It suited her mood.

The butler lit the lamps on the mantelpiece and in the corner near the bookshelves, then went into the hallway and began to light the lamps that were bracketed to the wall. Eleanor stared up at the mantelpiece, not really seeing the flickering lamps or the porcelain figurines there. She could not stop thinking about Sebastian.

"Miss Eleanor?"

She blinked, looking up as the Marquess came to the door. She swallowed hard, trying to hide her distress from him. He was still far from fully healthy, and she did not want to put needless stress on his growing strength.

"Lord Ramsgate," she greeted him as warmly as she could. "Is aught the matter?"

"No, no," he smiled at her a little absentmindedly. "No, my dear. I was just wondering where you were, and who was in here at this time. It's late."

Eleanor frowned. She had taken some dinner an hour ago—or she thought it was an hour or so ago, but when she looked at the clock, she was surprised to see it was already nine in the evening.

"I suppose," she murmured.

"Will you not retire to bed?" the Marquess asked softly. "It's cold too, even with a fire, it's cold."

"I am quite well," Eleanor answered. She had not noticed how cold it was, but now that he drew her attention to it, she shivered. The fire's warmth only just reached as far as where she sat and, though she wore a dress with long sleeves, it was still cold.

"Just thought I'd ask," the Marquess said gently. "And do go to bed soon. It really is too cold in here."

"Thank you, I will," Eleanor answered softly. She gazed over at the clock. She wished she had the courage to ask the Marquess about the story, but she could barely bring herself to say it. She somehow didn't want to ask and know the truth, whatever it was, and yet at the same time, knowing might be better than simply wondering whether it was all some terrible rumor Jonathan had heard.

She took a deep breath.

"I'm certain my son will return soon," the Marquess said gently.

"I hope so," Eleanor whispered.

He smiled. "I'm sure he will. He's a strong sort...it takes a great deal to make the merest indent on the fellow."

Eleanor smiled. "I am sure you're right."

The Marquess smiled back. "I am, my dear. Now, I'm going to retire to bed. It's far too cold for me in here tonight."

"Goodnight," Eleanor said softly.

"Goodnight, Miss Eleanor. I trust you will sleep well."

Eleanor thanked him and sat listening to his footsteps as he went down the hallway. She let out a long sigh. At least, with him to talk to, she did not feel so terribly lost.

What if it's true? she asked herself. What if that's what was the matter with him all along?

She swallowed hard. He had been so cold initially—so much so that she had thought he had agreed to his father's wishes simply because he could see it enraged her. And that night he'd shouted at her—had he been worried that she might have heard the rumor about him?

"I'm a fool," she whispered.

She had not believed any of the rumors—she had trusted her own heart, which could see no ill in Sebastian. But evidently there was some truth to it. He had clearly wandered about England taking advantage of every woman he met, and this was the result. And she had believed he was sweet and kind! She felt like such a fool.

She blinked, hearing footsteps in the hallway. She looked up to see one of the maids, whose name was Emily, hurrying past. She half-stood, her heart thudding.

"My lady!" Emily put her head in through the door. "It's his lordship! He's back."

"Oh." Eleanor swallowed hard. Her heart raced and her thoughts collided with each other in a mass of confused emotions. She stood up, not knowing what to say or how to respond.

"Please ask him to step in."

The maid inclined her head nervously and hurried off.

Eleanor stood where she was, heart thudding in her chest. She glanced around the room, feeling almost nauseous with fear and confusion.

"Eleanor!" Sebastian's voice was loud where he stood in the doorway, his face lit up with delight. As he took a step forward, his expression changed to one of worry and consternation.

"What?" she said tightly.

"Are you...all right?" he asked, hurrying to her and taking her hand. "What is it? What is the matter?"

Eleanor swallowed hard. Her face must have showed the pain and confusion she felt, because he was holding her hand, gazing into her eyes in concern.

"I'm well." Again, she could not make her voice sound warm or friendly. It sounded icy.

"Oh. Well, I just needed to tell you I had good news." He sounded hurt, now, and Eleanor felt part of her heart ache, even though the other part, the larger part, was crying out in pain, confused and hurt and wanting to hit back at him.

"Good," she said tightly.

"Don't you want to know?" he demanded. "I rode all day to get back to tell you."

"Tell me, then."

"What in Perdition's name," Sebastian swore raggedly. "I tried my best! I rode straight back after meeting at the court. And I'm exhausted. Sorry," he added, as Eleanor sobbed before she could prevent it.

"No," Eleanor whispered. "No. I don't believe you." She was sobbing without being able to stop, unable to hold back her tears.

"What? What is it?" Sebastian demanded, going to her and holding out his hand. He took her hand in his again, but this time she could not bear it; she couldn't bear to be near him and his lies. She snatched her hand away from his grasp.

"Please," she whispered. "Please, just let me be."

"Eleanor," Sebastian whispered. "What in Perdition is happening? Why won't you talk to me?"

"Because I don't believe you anymore!" Eleanor sobbed. "I can't trust you. None of what you've told me is true. Is it? Is it?"

Sebastian blinked at her in hurt and bewilderment.

"What do you mean?" he demanded. "What has happened?"

"You never told me," Eleanor sobbed, unable to hold back a second longer. "You never told me you had got another woman expecting your child."

She looked over at Sebastian, tense and unsure. She hadn't meant to shout those words at him. She had wanted to keep the fact that she knew a secret; had not trusted him to be honest if she told him outright that she knew. She watched as his face paled.

"What?" he whispered. "But that was years ago, Eleanor. It was years ago."

He tried to come and stand beside her, to take her hand, but she tensed, pulling her hand away.

"You should have told me," she hissed. "The whole of London knows—no, the whole county knows. And I do not. You should have told me."

"It was years ago," he repeated softly.

"It still happened." She looked at him without expression. "It happened, and I cannot trust you. Mayhap that is why I don't matter to you."

"What?" Sebastian blinked. "You do! You do matter." He came to stand close to her again and Eleanor tensed.

"I don't, Sebastian. You never wanted to wed me. You were never interested." She sobbed. That was the worst part. He had never seemed interested in the way a man should be interested in the woman he was wedded to.

"That is untrue," Sebastian whispered, reaching for her hand. She let him take it, her fingers stiff and cold in his own. "I want you, Eleanor. I need you." He tried to lift her hand to his lips, but she drew back.

"You don't," she hissed. "You can go to this other woman for what you need, if that is what you need." She pulled her hand away.

"Hell!" Sebastian shouted again. "I can't! I can't, Eleanor."

She blinked at him. His face was twisted in pain and a small part of her was not sorry; wanted to see that.

"Why?" she demanded coldly. "Why can you not?"

"Because she's dead."

Eleanor stared. He was sobbing now, tears soundless as they ran down his cheeks. She swallowed hard, almost unable to take in the words.

"She's dead," he repeated. "She died eight years ago. She died having the child."

Eleanor stared at him in horror. He was sobbing, his shoulders shaking, and she could not help it. Her heart ached to see him in pain. She went to him and took his fingers in her own. He didn't try to withdraw. She stood with him as he cried and told her the story.

"She died having the child. They both died. Nobody told me more. I never knew...never knew what really happened. All I know is that they died. They were at the cottage...a property of ours near London. I sold it. I can't bear it. I can't bear to remember it." He was still crying, and Eleanor felt her heart twist. She could not imagine the pain he was in.

"Sometimes women die," she whispered. "It can happen. We both know that."

"I know," Sebastian sobbed. "But...but don't you see? It wasn't just an accident. If...if Aunt Tessa is right, it was the curse. It was my fault. She died...because of me. Because it was my child."

Eleanor drew a deep breath. She understood why he had not wanted to talk about Aunt Tessa's beliefs about the curse. It made sense. She swallowed hard. His hand was tight on her fingers, and she wrapped it in both of her own.

"It wasn't your fault," she said softly. "You didn't make the curse. You didn't lay it on your family. Even if there is one," she added gently. "It was not your fault. And you don't know...perhaps she would have died anyway. Even if it wasn't your child. Some women just have a hard time in childbirth."

"You believe that?" Sebastian gazed at her, his eyes wide and round.

"Yes," Eleanor said firmly. "I believe that, even if there are such things as curses, they can only go so far. I believe God has a plan, and that no curse is stronger than His plan."

"You...you're right." Sebastian sniffed. He drew a deep breath and slowly stopped crying.

Eleanor drew a deep breath. "I know that wasn't why it happened."

Sebastian sniffed again, reaching into his pocket for his handkerchief. "Mayhap you're right," he said, and she saw a glimmer of a smile on his face. "I can't argue with your logic."

She grinned. "Good."

He took a deep breath. "But you really think she would have died anyway?"

"I can't know that for sure, of course," Eleanor replied. "But I do believe that, very firmly."

Sebastian took another deep breath. "Good," he whispered.

She smiled at him again, and he held her gaze, his own gaze not as troubled as it had been.

"You know, now that I can think about it like that, I feel less guilty. And I can be honest. I didn't really like her." He sniffed. "I know...that sounds terrible. But at first, I believed I was in love. I was two and twenty. Not terribly young, but not very old either." He smiled and after a brief pause, related further. "She was...well, also young, and lighthearted and pretty, and I thought that she was different because she didn't seem overawed by my title. She was demanding and pettish, and I liked that, because it seemed like she wasn't in awe of me. But then I found there was no other side to her—that was what she was like. Demanding, pettish, spoiled and self-interested. She had not overlooked my title, or my wealth—those two things were very important to her. Her family are the ones I blame." He paused and took a deep breath. "A baron's daughter has no need to be so obsessed with social advancement, but she was. Her family primed her. And I was the best means to advance. That was all." He took another breath.

"That was not kind of them," she murmured.

He nodded. "No, it was not. I promised to support her when I found out what had happened. Of course, I did. I would not have left her penniless, cast out of society. I would never do that." He sounded desperate. "But her family insisted that I wed her when the child was born, and I didn't want to. I didn't wish to." He sniffed. "Maybe that was wrong. But then, when they died...I felt terrible." He whispered. "I felt so awful because I felt as though it was my fault, as if I might have wished it on them simply because I was so set against it. I should not have been relieved."

"Of course, you were," Eleanor murmured. "I understand."

"Good."

He held her gaze.

She took a deep breath. She wanted to find some words to reassure him, but he continued before she could say anything more.

"I was sure it was my fault; sure that I had brought the curse on them. I hated myself and I never wanted to risk being close to anyone. I never wanted to feel that hurt again."

"I understand," she murmured.

He smiled. "I was foolish, then." He paused. "Because I met you. And, from the moment I met you, I could not help but feel close to you. You enchanted me from the first minute."

"I did?" she smiled. In spite of herself, she blushed.

"You did. You hated me," he said with a chuckle. "But it wasn't that which encouraged me. It was how witty you were. How funny. I laughed so much that day, and I had thought I would not laugh again. I laughed often at parties, with my friends. But it was not real laughter—not like that. I'll never forget that day. It was the first time I forgot my worries."

"You were quite insistent about seeing me," she remembered.

"I was. I wanted to make you cross with me; just a bit. Just to see how you'd react. But I also wanted to see you. I felt drawn to you. I wanted to talk to you and laugh and feel that real joy."

"You really mean it?"

He took a deep breath. "I know I was not honest. I know that perhaps I should have told you everything. But I was scared to. I didn't want you to think badly of me. I hated myself for what happened. I didn't want you to lose your good opinion too."

She swallowed hard. "Perhaps you might have told me sooner." She grinned. "But you did tell me. Now I know. I am grateful that I know. You trusted me."

"I did." He took a deep breath. "I do trust you."

She felt his hands tighten on hers. She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm sorry that I did not trust you. I'm sorry that I couldn't wait to hear the truth."

He chuckled. "Perhaps it's better that you asked now."

She gazed at him warmly. "Well, you told me. And you know now that you can trust me."

"Yes," he whispered.

She smiled and squeezed his fingers and he squeezed hers back.

"You know," he said softly. "I never told you before how beautiful you are when you lose your temper. You were so beautiful that first day, when I met you. I wanted to tease you just to see the way your eyes get even greener."

She giggled. "Do they?"

"Yes." He lifted her hand, pressing it to his cheek. "You're a beautiful woman, Eleanor Thornton. A beautiful woman. Don't you ever forget it."

She sniffed. "You're rather nice to look at, as well, Sebastian Thornton."

He laughed. "You know," he repeated, staring into her eyes. "I am glad I got to tell you. It also means that you know that I trust you, and that you know I love you."

She tensed, her cheeks flooding with color as he said that.

"I never told you?" he frowned. "I should have. I should have said it weeks ago. I love you, Eleanor. I love you."

She swallowed hard, feeling her throat stiffen up. "I love you, too," she managed, her gaze unswerving from his. "I love you, Sebastian. So very much."

He stared into her eyes, his own dark gaze widening as she spoke. He reached forward, lifting his hand and resting it on her cheek. She stopped breathing for a moment as he leaned closer, and she leaned towards him as he drew her into his arms, crushing her to his chest.

All her longing, all the feelings of desire she had been ignoring and sidestepping crashed through her, powerful and compelling as a wave on the shore, and she wrapped her arms around him and drew him to her, hugging him close as his lips clung to hers.

He leaned back and gazed into her eyes.

She stared up at him.

He reached forward, resting his hand on her cheek.

He leaned in and kissed her again, this time slowly and deliberately, in a way that sent flames of desire coursing along her spine, consuming her inside and out. She grinned, blushing furiously, and took his hand as he kissed her and then led her towards his quarters.