Chapter 13

"If you recall, I did express my reservations about this marriage," Simon drawled as he puffed on the end of his cigar, building the smoke in his lungs before releasing it in one large billow. "But alas, you never listen."

Sebastian parted his lips to respond, to rebuke the point, for it felt irrelevant now. A problem of the past that no longer mattered, and harkening on the past now wouldn't provide the solution he needed. Yet before he could have the chance to speak, he was cut off.

"Are you genuinely astonished," Ralph Merchant, another friend of Sebastian's, spoke up as he too lit the end of his cigar. "When has Greystone ever heeded our good advice? You're as likely to convince a dog and cat to breed."

"An apt point."

"It does beg the question, however," Ralph mused, releasing another dense plume into the dimly lit smoking room of the club, "whether the marriage was ever a judicious arrangement. Wellington here could have simply settled your debts, old chap."

"Indeed I could, and I would have been honored to," Simon affirmed with a slight tilt of his head. "But he refused."

"And further to that point," Ralph added with a cough. "Where was my invitation to the ceremony? I presume it slipped the two of you's minds to dispatch it, aye?"

Again, Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, and again he was cut off.

"In his defense, the affair was quite intimate," Simon quipped with a mischievous grin. "Reserved only for close acquaintances."

"And what, pray tell, am I?!"

"Too handsome for your own good, old boy," Simon chided. "The very last thing Greystone needed was you overshadowing him on his wedding day. Heaven knows his bride might have been having second thoughts as it was."

"Ah, naturally," Ralph chuckled, casually brushing back his golden locks from his forehead, his exaggerated smile revealing a flawless set of teeth. "That explains your presence then, aye, Wellington?"

"One devilishly good-looking confidant sufficed," Simon shot back playfully. "Two would be an outright affront to her sensibilities."

"Oh, come now." Ralph blew through his lips. "You are hardly the epitome of allure. Were it not for our friend's unfortunate scars, you would likely find yourself the third most handsome man present today at Adderly's."

"Lucky for the scarring then, isn't it," Simon retorted with a wry edge.

"A shame about the personality, though," Ralph countered and chuckled to himself. "At least Greystone has the option of concealing his visage behind a mask. While you, Wellington, can do nothing for the bland drivel that pours from your mouth whenever you choose to open it."

"And there you have another reason why you found no invitation on your silver salver," Simon rolled his eyes.

"And that reason would be?"

"That you're a prick, old boy. But I appreciate your assistance in making that clear."

Enough!" Sebastian suddenly bellowed, his voice booming across the room, causing both men to start. "The pair of you prattle on like old gossips at leisure. All talk, yet scarcely a word worth heeding." His gaze hardened as he fixed each of them with a stern look, and they noticeably recoiled.

"Apologies," Simon grinned somewhat sheepishly, putting out his cigar. Meanwhile, Ralph took a swig straight from the brandy decanter as if to hide his face.

Feeling immediately guilty, Sebastian groaned and massaged his left temple. "I appreciate the two of you agreeing to meet with me. Truly. But if all you intend to do is descend into bickering, I may as well have stayed at Greystone and dealt with this problem on my own."

To that, Simon grinned. "If that was an option, perhaps. But if you'll recall, it was you who summoned us here, Greystone."

"And believe me, I am already ruing that decision."

"Oh, be nice," Ralph chided. "And you enjoy our bickering. Else, why would you endure our company as you have over the years?"

"Pity?" Sebastian offered.

"And here I was thinking it was we who pitied you," Simon jested. "If only I had known, I might have cut you loose some time ago."

"Don't let me stop you now, Wellington."

"Careful," Ralph added wryly. "We might just take you up on that."

"So you intend to sweeten the deal, Merchant?"

That had the two men bursting into laughter.

It was all in good fun. Indeed, despite the miserable mood that Sebastian found himself in, he couldn't help but grin too. There were few men in this world who he would allow to speak to him the way that Simon and Ralph were presently, but there was good reason for that. Firstly, they had a tightly woven history that ran deeper than most and made them more brothers than mere friends. Secondly, Sebastian had few real acquaintances to speak of and wouldn't risk losing these two on account of a few jokes. And thirdly, perhaps most crucially, he genuinely found himself needing them on more than one occasion—not just their companionship, but their counsel as well.

Sebastian was growing desperate. After what had happened between himself and Virtue a few nights ago, he knew that his marriage couldn't continue in the same vein for much longer. When trying to rein in his temper, he could barely speak to her for fear of saying the wrong thing. And those few times he had dared to speak, saying the wrong thing was precisely what he did.

Thus, in a moment of clarity amid the chaos of his personal life, Sebastian did what he felt was his only remaining option—he sought the guidance of his two closest friends.

He met them at Adderly's the following morning; a short two-hour ride to the south from his estate. The two men had already started drinking by the time he arrived, and an hour in saw more drinks flow; loosening their tongues and addling their minds all the same.

Sebastian tilted his head back in his chair. "I am beginning to remember why the three of us don't spend as much time together as we once did."

"You, perhaps," Simon shrugged. "Myself and Relphie here still see one another all the time."

"Too often," Ralph affirmed with a wink.

"By all means, continue gentlemen. One mustn't interrupt such a celebrated meeting of minds—lest the nation suffer for lack of wit," Sebastian replied drily.

Simon burst into laughter once more, his shoulders shaking, while Ralph clapped him on the back, struggling to contain his own mirth.

Again, Sebastian was forced to wonder if he had made the right call in leaving Greystone and coming here. But he supposed that just spoke to how desperate he was. That was to say, very much.

When he had first married Virtue, Sebastian had assumed the marriage would bear all the hallmarks of a classic marriage of convenience and thus have a minimal effect on the life he had become so used to living. A wife who would be happy to spend time on her own. One who desired nothing to do with him. A stranger in his household who he would be friendly with but have little actual contact with.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Barely a week into their union and already Sebastian found himself utterly enraptured by Virtue in ways he couldn't have possibly imagined. Physically, he found her stunning, a true beauty—full, inviting curves that seemed to beckon his touch, lips that whispered promises of passion, and eyes that smoldered with an unspoken fire. Her very presence set his blood aflame. Even in his days of unmarred handsomeness, he knew he would have been at a loss for words in her presence. Such was the deep, consuming allure she held over him.

Beyond that, she had a temperament about her that was as alluring as it was confounding as it was maddening. She was stubborn and headstrong. She was intelligent and confident. She was capable and dignified, and unwilling to be easily subdued. In many respects, she mirrored Sebastian himself—a counterpart so similar, yet so adept at unraveling him.

Unfortunately, it was this very resemblance, the mirroring of two strong personalities, that was causing some problems.

"I need to understand how to talk with her without..." Sebastian grimaced. "You know?"

"Biting her head off?" Simon interjected with a smirk.

Sebastian shot him a glare. "As my friend in blue so eloquently put it."

"Truth be told, I don't believe you have it in you, old boy," Ralph added with a chuckle. "After all, we are speaking of Sebastian the Royal Butcher, are we not?"

"You know I detest that title," Sebastian warned, wincing as the memories it conjured flooded back—memories he preferred to keep at bay.

"And yet it was a title well-earned, if you ask me," Ralph replied coolly.

Like Simon, Sebastian's history with Ralph Merchant stretched back nearly a decade to their service in the Spanish War. The three, along with Simon's brother Jasper, had served in the Royal Dragoons Guard of Waterloo—a specialized cavalry regiment known for its brutal efficiency and willingness to undertake tasks that others weren't. Things that still made Sebastian's skin crawl to remember.

Unlike Sebastian, however, both Ralph and Simon seemed perfectly unaffected by what each of them had gone through—or at the very least, did much better in hiding it. War was a terrible thing, leaving scars both seen and unseen; those which affected a man long after they had healed and supposedly faded. And where the physical scars were the most obvious—one look at Sebastian was enough to prove that point—the unseen had the potential to damage a man's future even more so.

"You do see the dilemma here, don't you?" Simon started boldly.

"If I did, I would have spared myself the two-hour journey and the accompanying backache," Sebastian retorted with a huff.

Simon looked at him flatly. "You are attempting to win her favor by means of deception, that is to say, you are presenting yourself as someone you are not. What good is it to earn her affection if the whom she loves is someone else entirely? It is like luring a rabbit to dinner by dressing as a hare, while in truth, you are a ravenous fox who is one bad day away from devouring her."

"More a wolf," Ralph interjected.

"A fox," Simon corrected, with a pointed glance at his friend. "You care for this lady, do you not?"

"She is not merely a lady, she is my wife, Virtue Foxworth and the Duchess of Greystone," Sebastian growled at him, which had little effect as Simon simply raised an unconcerned eyebrow. "I do."

"Then be yourself. Good God man, it is not so difficult."

"I cannot be myself," Sebastian sighed heavily. "That is the entire point—just a few nights ago, I very nearly pounced on her after she tried to reach for my mask. What if the next time I...?" His voice faltered, the thought twisting his stomach. "What if I cannot stop myself from hurting her?" he breathed.

Simon chuckled coldly. "Alas, we circle back to the crux of the matter. I advised you against this marriage from the outset. I warned you, Greystone."

"I do not see why the Royal Butcher should share even an ounce of compassion if you ask me," Ralph joined in again. And again, flicked his golden locks out of his eyes with that practiced smile. "It was never like you to give a damn about anyone but yourself. Perhaps hurting her is for the best? Let her understand what she has truly married into."

"An excellent point," Simon concurred with a smirk. "Wed to the Royal Butcher. Best she learns early."

"Faith, at least she has no French blood," Ralph added with a laugh.

Why had he bothered? Sebastian supposed it was because he'd had no other choice. Simon and Ralph were his only friends, though mornings spent in their company often left him wondering if they deserved that title at all.

He glanced at Simon with a pang of regret, wishing that Simon's older brother, Jasper, was here. He and Sebastian had always shared a closer bond, one that would have offered genuine support instead of mockery and barbed wit. Yet, Jasper's absence was telling, underscoring the very reasons Simon and Ralph treated him as they did. The moniker ‘Royal Butcher' indeed felt more like a curse than a title.

All today had done was prove to Sebastian how hopeless his situation was. Once, before the war, Sebastian was a kind and gentle soul, one he was certain Virtue would have loved to have gotten to know better. And he was still that person deep within, hidden beneath layers of trauma and anger. He knew this to be true. Unfortunately, whenever he attempted to reveal that side of himself, the beast within reared its head, and controlling his temper became a monumental struggle.

To truly know his wife, Sebastian could only strive to do his best, manage his temper as much as he was able, and fervently hope that Virtue kept him at arm's length.