Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Had Caroline known that she was not the only one who struggled to sleep, perhaps she may have felt comforted. For Sebastian too, struggled to sleep—his mind reeling with the ridiculousness of the situation and the small fire of attraction he'd felt deep in his belly when he'd held Caroline close to him. For a large part of the evening, he managed to avoid his father—though he made his way to the study eventually, facing the thin man behind the desk hesitantly.

Fitzgerald Fairchild looked up at his son, and immediately a frown appeared between his brows.

"Why do you have that look about you?"

Sebastian sighed deeply. He was not at all surprised by his father's words. In fact, he struggled to remember a time that they had not misunderstood one another.

"There may be a slight problem," he got out at last. Fitzgerald let out a deep sigh at this and he shook his head—already disappointed.

"Now what did you do?"

Sebastian moved to sit down across from his father and sighed. "There was a misunderstanding…" he started, and Fitzgerald shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You promised, Sebastian," he said slowly. "You promised that you'd be on your best behavior until the wedding."

Sebastian closed his eyes and released a deep breath. He had hoped that the situation could be contained—after all, the truth was that he had merely helped a damsel in distress. She explained the truth immediately too—and a small, naive part of him was foolish enough to hope that it would be enough.

Of course it wasn't. The gossip had started the second she had left with her parents. Of course the more scandalous turn of events was the version people chose to believe.

Sebastian frowned now too. It was understandable that the ton believe the gossip fodder, entertain the notion of a scandal as they had. It would have been great if his father was not so quick to believe the worst of him too.

"If you could let me explain," he burst out irritably, and Fitzgerald scowled down at his son.

"Oh, let you explain, of course. Of course there is an explanation! Well, then… let me hear it. What is it this time, Sebastian?"

Even before he spoke, Sebastian could tell that his father was not inclined to believe him. The way he looked at him, the narrowed eyes, the pursed lips…

"She fell," Sebastian explained clumsily, "Caroline, I mean. We were both outside—separately—and she fell and…"

Even to his own ears, the excuse sounded rather pathetic, and Sebastian sighed. Fitzgerald turned purple, then red, then stark white.

"You… were caught… in a compromising position," he said, speaking very slowly, "with your betrothed's sister?"

"If you could listen to me…" Sebastian tried, but his father shook his head. "I will not hear it," he spat furiously.

Despite his desire to defend himself, Sebastian was quiet—waiting for his father to say something, anything.

Fitzgerald was uncharacteristically quiet for a while.

"Now, Sebastian," he said at last, his voice measured. "I cannot say that I am wholly surprised by your behavior. You have… garnered a reputation as a bit of a rake in the ton. I let it go because I knew that the family's name was strong enough to withstand a lot. But this…"

Fitzgerald shook his head and Sebastian sighed.

"If I could speak to Lady Caroline… and Lady Beatrice," he offered, but Fitzgerald merely let out a bark of a laugh.

"If you think I am letting you speak to either of those women alone, you are gravely mistaken, boy!"

Though Sebastian opened his mouth to respond again, his father was quick to interrupt him.

"We shall both see Lord Lincoln tomorrow and find a way out of this mess."

"There doesn't need to be a mess," Sebastian insisted. "It was a misunderstanding and if we could just…"

"NO!" Fitzgerald spat, his face turning a dangerous shade of red again and a vein throbbing in his forehead.

"I do not want to hear a word, not a single word from you," he insisted scathingly. "Go to bed. We will talk in the morning."

Sebastian hesitated for a few seconds, every part of him rebelling against being sent to his chamber like a child. Still, by the look on his father's face it would be a dangerous endeavor for either of the men if he stayed, and with a scowl he turned on his heel and made his way upstairs.

A faint smell of elderberry clung to his shirt when he yanked it over his head and he held onto it, a shadow of a smile flickering across his face.

It smelled like her, like Caroline, and again, he was struck by how well the girl had fit into his arms when she'd stumbled. His heart skipped a beat when he remembered the press of her soft breasts against his chest or how his hand had slipped over the dip of her hips.

His throat was suddenly dry and with a shake of his head, Sebastian got rid of his day clothes and into his night shirt.

Still, sleep evaded him even as he lay in bed.

It was early when he was called to his father's study by a footman with lifted brows and Sebastian scowled at the man before complying and making his way downstairs. Fitzgerald was practically frothing at the mouth where he stood in the door of his study, an envelope trembling in his hand.

"As I had expected," he started without giving Sebastian as much as a chance to greet him, "Lord Lincoln has called us both to his estate."

"I…" Sebastian hesitated, wanting to offer to go alone or request to speak to one of the women again. Fitzgerald, however, did not grant him this opportunity.

"You will remain silent and abide by our decisions," he said simply.

Though Sebastian scowled at this, there was little he could do—he knew full well that only a demure ‘yes father' would suffice.

And so, the two men made their way to the carriage climbing in silently as they made their way to the Wentworth estate.

Sebastian made a point of avoiding his father's eyes. Despite the precariousness of his position, his thoughts drifted to Caroline—not necessarily her as a person, for he had to admit that he barely knew the girl.

But he would not lie—he had quite enjoyed holding her in his arms like he had.

Before he could allow himself to fully explore it—or think about it—the carriage came to an abrupt stop and the Wentworth manor loomed in front of him. Strange, Sebastian thought. It had not looked so intimidating the last time he was there, but today the manor seemed dark and hostile.

He was quick to shake these thoughts off, following his father inside. Knowing looks from the servants followed them all the way to the study and Sebastian sighed when they finally arrived at the door.

He was not overly concerned with his reputation, but he had to admit that the undeserved suspicion was quite grating on his nerves. At least, he mused, in the past when he had been judged, he had actually been guilty of whatever he was accused of.

The study's door creaked when it opened, revealing the pale face of William Wentworth, who invited the pair in with a gruff wave of his hand.

He only spoke once they were seated.

"I do not like what happened," he said, his voice low and measured. "Though I suppose, there is no point going on about it now. What is done is done."

Sebastian grimaced at this. "Of course," he started, but William gave no indication at all of hearing him.

"So, the easiest way to solve this, of course, would be for you to marry Caroline rather than Beatrice."

Sebastian did not even try to hide his scowl at this. "Daughters," he muttered irritably. "So interchangeable, are they not?"

Once more, William ignored him—though a cold look from his own father showed Sebastian that his comment did not go unnoticed. He let out an annoyed sigh.

"I would like to talk to both ladies," he attempted now, biting on his teeth when both William and Fitzgerald let out condescending laughs.

"Surely, if a woman is going to be my wife, I should be afforded the opportunity to talk to her!" Sebastian tried again and William shook his head.

"You have done enough talking—and touching," he said tiredly, causing Sebastian to fold his arms across his chest.

"Well," he huffed, his temper boiling. "Had I known that my bride would change and I'd be kept from her, I may have touched some more."

Fitzgerald's eyes shone murder and he leaned forward in an attempt to block his son from William.

"He will not talk to either of your daughters without your express permission," he insisted, and William nodded.

"The girls," he said coldly, "will accept my decision."

It took all of Sebastian's self control to refrain from asking if the women had a say in the matter. So he sat back and stared at his hands.

"So. It is settled?" William asked, though there was not much of a question in his voice. "You will marry my other daughter?"

"Yes, my lord. Either or," Sebastian answered petulantly, causing his father to glare at him once more. Sebastian, however, could not find it within himself to care.

"The wedding must take place sooner rather than later," William went on, directing his words to Fitzgerald rather than Sebastian. Fitzgerald nodded before Sebastian had a chance to respond.

"Of course—we will say that they were engaged all along, privately of course."

Sebastian zoned out as the two men spoke—he knew full well that his opinion was not needed and as such, speaking would be useless. Instead he sat, pretended to listen, and nodded every now and then.

In truth, he was not too bothered by who he was told to marry—it was the how, rather, that bothered him.

Marrying in itself was not the problem—it was annoying to be married, he thought, as it was a rather constraining endeavor. However, he was not particularly fond of the idea of being married because of a scandal.

He only became aware of the fact that the men had finished talking when they stood, and he jumped to his feet as well—following his father out of the study silently.

He hated being silent about his life. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to rage and scream—but he knew he had no voice.

William and Fitzgerald shook hands, though William merely glared at Sebastian's offered hand as though it was dirty—and the latter followed his father outside quietly. It happened as he moved to step inside the carriage. It was a movement that caught his eye, across the lawn.

Beatrice, he recognized, staring at him haughtily. She looked away and he let out a sigh—there was no doubt that she was furious. His gaze drifted to the other end of the garden where Caroline stood. Once more, the memory of her body pressed intimately against his, rushed back to him and his gaze traveled over her figure slowly. The material hugged the curves of her breasts before falling loosely from the rest of her body.

As though she had felt his intimate gaze on her, she looked up—their eyes meeting. Guilt replaced his memory when he took stock of her properly—her eyes were almost too large in her face and even from the distance he could see her hand trembling with nervous energy.

Without his express awareness, his lips curved into somewhat of a smile—a silent attempt to reassure her.

Then he climbed into the carriage and the door slammed shut, hiding his future wife from him.