Chapter Eighteen

Once he had opened the door for Effie, ignoring her stuttering rage, he went upstairs. Dodds was busily packing, ready for their escape in the morning. He looked just as miserable as he had earlier, during their conversation about Maggie, but this time Seb thought it best to ignore it.

“Why are the Knowleses here?” Dodds asked. “I forgot to ask before. A bit far from their usual hunting ground, isn’t it?”

“They’re going to a house party.”

Dodds gave him a hard stare. “Tell me you’re not going, too?”

Sebastian glared at him. “Of course I’m bloody not!”

Dodds tipped his head to the side, seeming to read something in his face. “His lordship has his eye on the duchess, doesn’t he? Of course he does. She’s a beauty. He’ll want his wife to keep you busy while he—”

“I won’t let that happen,” Seb said stonily. Then, when Dodds was silent, “He doesn’t know her.”

“Neither did you until a few days ago.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. As with Catherine moments ago, the right words wouldn’t come. But Dodds was right, he hadn’t known her except as a memory, so why did it feel as if he did? As if he had known her always?

Dodds went on curiously. “The Knowleses are here, and your past has risen up to bite you. A pity. The duchess seemed to like you despite everything. And she sees you, the real you, even when you try to hide your feelings. The you I remember from the night I wouldn’t let you into that club and we stood talking. You were drunk, I grant you, but you talked about your life and your feelings. You were alive then, sir. Far more alive than you are these days.”

“Rubbish,” Seb muttered the word. “How would you know?”

Dodds shook his head. “I know you better than you think. You’re bored and you’re looking for something, but you don’t know what it is or how to find it. And then, when it presents itself right in front of you, you want to run away.”

Dodds had gone far beyond the scope of his job, and Seb could dismiss him right now. Of course he wouldn’t, no matter how angry his manservant made him, because they were more friends than servant and master.

“It’s good to know you are such an expert in character assessment,” he said nastily. “May I suggest you look to your own faults rather than mine?”

“At least I know when I see a good thing. I’m not going to let Maggie get away from me. I’ll fight for her. What are you going to do?”

There was a lump in Seb’s throat as he remembered the look on Catherine’s face outside the parlor door. Why the bloody hell had he said that to Effie about his heart? Catherine must have thought he was a lying coward.

“What can I do?” he asked, not sure whether he wanted an answer, but Dodds gave him one anyway.

“That’s up to you, sir. You can go back to London when you’ve finished at Albury House and put the duchess out of your mind. Or you can try to persuade her to give you another chance.”

True, he could run away again, but he had grown weary of his life in London and the distractions that never lasted. But with Catherine... he already knew he would never grow tired of her. She was a source of endless fascination to him. But more than that, he wanted to make her smile. He wanted to make her happy. But how? He would be sure to fail and hurt her, and then they would both be miserable.

Thankfully, Dodds left him alone after the lecture. Seb lay in his bed, knowing he would have a long day tomorrow, but he couldn’t sleep. He got up and searched in his case until he found the message Grimsley had sent him. He had reread it so many times, and yet he did so again, wondering if there was something he had missed. But the meaning hadn’t changed. His father was ill and Seb was needed. Well, tomorrow when he arrived home, he could discover for himself what state his father was in and whether a reconciliation was possible.

As he lay back, deep in thought, he heard footsteps farther down the passage, followed by a knock. Not on his door. Was it Catherine’s door? He sat bolt upright, the message from Grimsley fluttering onto the floor. Seb leapt out of bed and pulled on his robe.

Outside, the passageway was dim, only a candle with a glass chimney to shed light. Quickly he made his way down to Catherine’s room and knocked. There was silence inside, but he could see the glow beneath the door. Was she ignoring him? He was tempted to shout and hammer on the door, but that was so out of character that it alarmed him, so he didn’t.

Thinking that perhaps she didn’t realize it was him knocking, he said, “Catherine? I only want to talk. Please open the door. I want to apologize...” But there were so many things to be sorry for he couldn’t even begin to list them.

But she didn’t open the door and there was no sound from behind it, and after he had lingered another minute or so in awkward silence, he turned away. Only to discover Effie Knowles standing behind him in a thin wrap and, if the candlelight behind her was to be believed, nothing else.

She swayed toward him. “No luck then, Albury? What a pity. I believe my husband got there first. But I am still more than willing to help you pass the time until they are finished.”

He put up his hands to stop her getting any closer and said in a rough voice, “I’m not interested.”

She pretended not to care, but he could see the flash of hurt and anger in her eyes. “Your loss.” She didn’t try to stop him as he stepped around her and headed back to his room, where he closed the door and leaned against it.

His thoughts were racing.

Was Knowles really with Catherine? She had told Seb she wasn’t interested in the man, and yet...

Was this a jealous rage tearing at his insides like claws? The very thought of Catherine and Knowles made him want to break something and scream out his fury. And that was frightening, too, because he was never like this. He was known for being amiable and easy-going, with a live and let live philosophy. Even his worst detractors tended to like him. This just wasn’t him.

His room felt like it was closing in on him. Where was Dodds when he needed the man? With Maggie, probably, plotting to run off together. He took a deep breath and then another, knowing he was being ridiculous but unable to help it.

“What is happening?” he muttered to himself. “Why is this happening?”

Dodds’ words echoed in his head, even as he tried to remind himself that he had never wanted the sort of life Catherine spoke of. Love? It was a messy emotion he had avoided ever since his mother died. Since he’d killed her. Since his father sent him away, blaming him without listening to his explanations, and not caring what happened to him after that. He had been determined to live an independent and solitary life, enjoying the physical indulgences available to him but never allowing anyone to hammer through the iron encasing his heart.

And yet Catherine had managed it. She had torn away those heavy metal plates and now he was in unfamiliar emotional territory. Confused and out of his depth, floundering in waters that may well drown him.

There were two options before him. Run away or face up to the truth. The thought of returning to his comfortable life in London, each day the same, the years passing, was suddenly so unbearable he felt nauseated. But facing the truth about his feelings for Catherine... asking her to trust him with her happiness, with her heart, when he wasn’t at all sure he was worthy or capable of that trust?

Sebastian groaned and threw himself down on his bed.

Assuming she wasn’t cozying up with Knowles in her room right now, allowing that man to kiss her and touch her. The strange rage he had been feeling a moment ago threatened to overwhelm him again, but he pushed it aside. She wouldn’t do that. She wasn’t the sort of woman who would take a man she disliked so heartily into her bed.

I want someone who will love me, who will not look for the next prospect when he is bored.

Sebastian groaned again. That someone could have been him. Was it too late? How was he going to convince Catherine when tomorrow she would be gone? With no intention of ever seeing him again.