Chapter 11

"How is everything?" Sebastian's voice was gentler than usual, softer, as if purposefully so. Even amidst the quiet ambiance of the dining room, Virtue almost missed it.

She had not been paying as much attention as she ought to have been. From the moment she sat across from Sebastian, she had struggled to keep herself from staring. As they dined alone for the first real time, the soft candlelight cast a warm glow on her husband's skin, enhancing the rugged contours of his handsome jaw and face—at least from what she could decipher beneath his half-mask. It was challenging to concentrate on anything but the palpable tension and the tantalizing possibility that, if the evening progressed well, it might very well lead to their first night spent together as wife and husband.

"Oh! It is perfect," she quickly managed with a seductive smile and a fluttering of eyelashes. "And yourself? How are you finding this meal?"

"Good," he responded gruffly, only to immediately stiffen, perhaps catching the abruptness of his own reply. "What I mean to say is it is rather scrumptious. Quite delectable."

She giggled lightly, eyeing her husband with a curiosity that had been building ever since this afternoon when he had shown her the library. The way he ate was a contrast to his physical size. For a man of such brawn—that looked a giant compared to her petite frame, he ate with a delicacy that belied his physique. He handled his cutlery with impeccable finesse, sipped his wine with measured decorum, and maintained a posture that spoke of a disciplined regard for table etiquette. Each bite was small, each chew thoughtful, and after swallowing, he would carefully dab at his lips with a napkin.

Again, Virtue tried her best to get a read on the man who sat across from her, finding him a mystery that she was unable to solve.

On the surface, he was a savage like the ones she might find in the storybooks. She still remembered the way he had leaned over her in the carriage the prior day, like a predator bearing down on its prey before tearing out its throat. A temper, oh yes, one she would do best not to agitate… even if a small part of her wanted to. The idea of him on her again in much the same way, her feeling so helpless and subservient, was enough that she could not stop herself from blushing.

But then there was the softer side of him, one that she was catching glimpses of. Him showing her the library, for one, and how delighted he seemed by her excitement. How careful he was when he ate, unlike many a gentleman she had met among the ton. And right now, how soft his voice, how careful his manner, how nervous his temperament.

There were two sides to her husband, and she understood neither as well as she might have liked. Yet.

"I wish to thank you again," Virtue began as she cut into the piece of meat on her plate. Venison was her guess, grilled, sauteed, and rare. "For showing me the library earlier. It truly is wonderful."

"I am glad it is to your liking."

"And you have told me you, yourself, are an avid reader," she ventured with a wanting smile. "I am not going to catch you in there, am I? Distracting me."

"Distracting you?" he stammered awkwardly. "I would never."

She giggled softly at how tense he was. "Just be sure to ask before you remove a book from the shelves. I would hate for you to put it back in the wrong place. I might never find it again." To that, Sebastian frowned as if he thought she was being serious. "I am only joking," she hastened to explain. "Of course, you can do as you wish. It is your library, after all."

"I have my personal reading room," he responded as he took a small bite off his fork. "So, there is no need to worry."

"Oh." She blinked. "Good. That is... convenient." It was very much not.

At least the two weren't at each other's throats, so that was something. Although Virtue might not have minded, for that would have added a little drama into what was turning out to be a very stunted supper.

Sebastian had arrived before her, which Virtue had judged as a good omen. An indication that he was eager to sup with her, that he might even put in some effort. Dressed impeccably too, in a dark tight-fitted suit that seemed to emphasize every hint of muscle and swallow any hint of light. Save for the mask, of course, which he wore like a second skin. Even his hair was neatly tied back and kept in check, a first since she had met him.

When she had walked into the dining room, she had felt his eyes sweeping over her, working their way from her head to her toes, lingering in all the right places, a sense of hunger that went beyond his desire to merely feast with her—instead, rather, to feast upon her. And for a heartbeat, Virtue was glad to have chosen her attire with extra care this evening, opting for a full-dress gown in dark green, which complemented her red hair beautifully. For, her husband seemed to clearly appreciate it.

Everything had been going so perfectly that, as she had taken a seat across from him, sharing a subtle smile, Virtue had been certain that this dinner here would be the turning point in their marriage, and by the time it was over, she might truly begin to understand the man she had married.

Unfortunately, she'd had no such luck.

Apparently, he had no desire to talk whatsoever. He didn't appear angry. Nor did he come across as sullen. Just silent and passive. More concerned with what was on his plate than who sat across from him. Virtue found it difficult to gauge whether he was simply shy or utterly bored, his large frame making him appear more like a silent statue than a companion for dinner.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" she asked, although she immediately felt like a fool when she did. Such a dreary question, it was a wonder he didn't wish to speak with her.

"No," he replied simply.

"I—" She hesitated but he looked up from his plate at her. "I was thinking, the gardens. They could use some... some life." She tittered to try and break the tension. "If it would please you, I think I might try to renovate them. Plant some fresh flower beds. Revitalize the trees and snip some overgrown hedges. Perhaps even add a few benches and ornaments. That sort of thing." He did not respond right away, tilting his head and looking as if in judgment. "Or not," she added quickly, her confidence waning. "It isn't necessary—"

"No," he interrupted, his voice suddenly firm. "That is a grand idea. I, myself, am not particularly fond of the gardens, truth be told. But perhaps that is because of how lifeless they have become under my watch. A renovation would be in order."

She smiled, letting the relief show. "Wonderful. I shall start at once then!"

"Good." Sebastian's reply was brief as he returned his attention to his plate, slicing into his venison with meticulous care.

But Virtue's eyes never left his. She continued to watch him, pondering what it might take to elicit some sort of genuine response from his lips. He was cautious around her… too cautious, as if purposefully staying silent so that he might not spark another confrontation between them. On the one hand, she felt she ought to be grateful as she remembered his temper and how easily she had set him off. Yet on the other... she yearned for more—more depth, more engagement, more anything.

Now, purposefully watching the Duke feast, she could not help but notice how awkward he was with his mask. The way he was forced to skillfully maneuver food to his mouth from the side, careful not to accidentally dirty or upset it, was curious and went some way toward explaining what lent his mannerisms an awkward grace. She observed as he tilted his head slightly, making sure to slip the fork behind the mask rather than into it. The process was tiresome and suggested that he rarely feasted this way.

He was evidently uncomfortable wearing the mask and now, Virtue found herself examining it closer. The side of his face that was uncovered was unmarked, handsome even. And from what she could see, there were no burn marks or scars by its edges, nothing she could see that might suggest why he wore it. Even his right eye, which she had been told to be missing, was very much intact with a piercing glare. Did he even need the mask? Surely, whatever it was covering couldn't be that bad.

She hesitated... not sure if it was the right thing to bring up. But again, the stilted manner of this dinner and how careful it had been made her realize that she had no choice. Even if the worst should happen.

"I was wondering if I might ask you something. If you promise not to get offended," she began simply, setting down her knife and fork.

Sebastian finished chewing, did the same, and looked at her but said nothing.

"It..." A deep breath and she dove in. "It concerns your mask." As predicted, Sebastian's body tensed at the subject, immediately uncomfortable. "I was curious whether its presence at supper was truly necessary?"

"You think I enjoy wearing it?"

"I truly do not know. From my perspective, it seems needless." Offering a gentle smile, she continued, "We are married now, and surely a day will arrive when I shall see you without it..." She let the suggestion hang in the air between them.

"Believe me, it is for the best," he finished, averting his gaze, and taking up his utensils once more as if to beckon the end of that conversation.

"Oh, I doubt that."

"Doubt it if you must..." He spoke carefully, refusing to look at her. "But I do not wear this mask for style or pleasure. It is for your sake. Without it... no." He shook his head firmly once more. "It is for the best."

"Please?" she whispered, a soft plea. "I would very much like to—"

"I told you, no!" His voice erupted, that temper of his returning in an instant. Virtue recoiled, shocked by his intensity. Thankfully, Sebastian seemed to realize in an instant that he had gone too far, and his expression softened, a sincere sign of his regret. "I… I am sorry," he murmured in earnest.

"No," she hurried to assure him. "You needn't apologize." And she meant it too. Despite the anger he spewed at her, the fact that he was showing any emotion at all—the beast peering from its cage—thrilled her more than it frightened. "I should not have pressed."

"You didn't press," he sighed, setting his knife and fork aside once more with a deliberate gentleness. Then he looked at her. Really looked. Meeting her eyes across the table, she saw through the mask to the man behind it. His eyes... there was sorrow in them, pain even. "And I should not have yelled at you."

"It is fine. Really."

"I take no pleasure in wearing the mask," he confessed coldly, although she sensed it was not directed at her. "And one day..." He paused and shut his eyes, as if the thought itself pained him. "One day, I have no doubt you will see me without it. But for now, please, I must wear it."

"Why?" she inquired carefully.

He sucked through his teeth, and she thought he was going to explode once more; indeed, he seemed to be holding himself together by the barest of threads. "I just do. Were you to see me unmasked..." He scoffed bitterly at himself. "You might flee back to your father's home."

"I would never," Virtue protested gently.

"You say that now, but..." He tried to meet her eyes, however, nerves took him and he looked away. "No, I am sorry. It is truly for your own good, please believe me."

Virtue was starting to understand her husband. Not fully. Not nearly enough. But she was now certain that he wasn't simply bored of her in the slightest. The manner in which he was behaving, the restraint he showed, seemed to be for her own good. As if he was afraid to be himself—the mask contained his temper, keeping the beast at bay, as it was.

And where she wanted to push a little bit further for this was the first time that they had spoken properly all evening, she knew better than to do so. For now, she was simply glad to have raised the topic, feeling that at the very least she was beginning to understand him.

"Well, perhaps I too should get a mask," she joked. "It might be quite becoming on me."

He looked at her flatly. "You make fun."

"Not at all," she said seriously. "Though I might be inclined to only cover the left side of my face, as I believe the right to be my better half."

"You have no bad side," Sebastian murmured. "Both sides..." He hesitated, swallowing slightly. "You must know how beautiful you are, Virtue. It would be a sin to conceal any part of your visage."

That had her blushing furiously, and where she tried to hold his gaze, she felt herself unable. A tiny spark, a slither of a flame built between them, and it was all she could do to not look away as if embarrassed. Which she was, a little. It might have been a small thing but now that she thought of it, not once had Lord Prescott so openly admired her beauty, or even so much as complimented her. She had always just assumed he found her as such but to hear it spoken out loud... yes, her cheeks undoubtedly attested to that.

Sebastian's gaze lingered on her, seemingly amused by her blush. In an attempt to divert attention from her reddening cheeks, Virtue reached for her glass of wine but misjudged the distance, sending it crashing against her plate. The brittle glass shattered with a sharp, jarring sound.

"Oh, my!" Virtue recoiled with a start. "I am so..." She caught Sebastian across the table, half-expecting to see him amused by her mishap. Except, the expression she met was not one of mirth.

Something was amiss. Something she did not quite understand. Sebastian's body had grown stiff, his face had contorted into a visage of terror, and his hands gripped the edges of the table as if he might hurl it aside.

"Sebastian..." she whispered softly. "Are you... is everything alright?"

His body shook and the deep growl that rumbled from his throat sent a cold spike of fear up Virtue's spine. This was no mere temper tantrum or a fleeting loss of his composure. The violent shaking of his frame, the crimson flush of his face, the manner in which his teeth bared as he clenched his jaw and tried to contain himself… No, this was something else entirely.

"Are you..." she began, hesitating, unwilling to finish the question.

Sebastian's face twitched. Still, he continued to growl. And then, suddenly, hands gripping the tablecloth, he wrenched it forward, upending the plates and glasses and mounds of food in one tremendous crash. The sound rang out through the dining room, like the bells of a Cathedral, which had Sebastian stumbling back from his chair, hands now clasped over his ears as he groaned as if from pain.

"Sebastian!" Without thinking, she went to him, rounding the table quickly. "Are you—

"Leave!" he cried. "Get out!" He fell to his knees, still holding his ears, still reeling as if he might explode.

"Please!" Virtue's voice faltered, her feet rooted in place, not daring to draw too near. Sebastian, on his knees and clutching his face, resembled a character torn from the pages of her darkest tales—like that of a werewolf on the verge of turning. "What is wrong? Are you—"

"Out!" he roared.

This time, Virtue chose to heed his command. She had seen him angry already. Weathered the storms of his rage. But this… this was something else entirely. This was violent and ugly. This was dangerous. This had a feel that suggested if she got too close, he might inadvertently hurt her.

She fled the dining room, casting a backward glance only as she reached the doorway. Sebastian remained on his knees, his body rocking back and forth, convulsing as if waves of pain were coursing through him. As if agony pulsated through his body. Again, she thought to go to him... but fear kept her at bay.

Who was her husband? Who was the man she had married? She had thought she was beginning to understand him, but as Virtue hurried to her chambers and slammed the door behind her, she was forced to confront the terrifying truth—that she knew nothing at all. The whispers and rumors she had brushed aside about Sebastian now surged forth, demanding her attention. Perhaps there was a grain of truth to the fearful tales after all.

Maybe, just maybe, she had indeed married a monster.