Chapter 21

The grand fa?ade of the Rochester estate.

For what else could it be called? Sebastian's family had been closely acquainted with the Rochesters once. Before they had transformed into the notoriously wealthy machiavellian they were renowned for as of today. Another family who undoubtedly profited off the war effort—the bitter reason Sebastian had cut ties with them long ago. For Virtue's sake, he had decided to make amends.

In the not-too-distant past, Rochester Estate had been a humble abode. But now, the place was a beacon of luxury, its towering white columns stark against the twilight sky. Sweeping marble steps lit by an array of lanterns that flickered like stars led to the grand hall. As Sebastian approached, Virtue on his arm, the faint sound of the ongoing concert wafted through the great French doors. Through them, the grand ballroom sprawled, its floors gleaming marble, vast chandeliers dripping with crystals casting a radiant light over the assembled guests. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, and the air was perfumed with the scent of fresh roses and lilacs, strategically placed in ornate vases throughout—strategically, for they were an amateur's display of wealth.

Sebastian adjusted his own mask, a simple white affair, suddenly feeling very out of place, as he and Virtue passed under the stone archway. Immediately, he was struck by the sight. The sight of what he had missed out on for the last decade. Men in finely tailored coats, from deep blues to vibrant maroons, mingled with women whose gowns billowed around them in a cascade of silk and satin, adorned with intricate embroidery and sparkling with jewels. Masks, ornate and mysterious, hid faces but not their owner's status—each a careful choice of feathers, gold, and gems that whispered of vanity and conceit. His gaze flickered over the faces, the intricate dance of courtship and politics playing out before him. This, by all means, ought to have been where a man of his ilk supposedly belonged. Yet, the reality was far different.

For, the moment that he and Virtue walked through the great doors that led into the grand hall, Sebastian could feel all eyes on him. He could hear the whispers too. He could sense the attention of those in the immediate vicinity turn on him—some gasped, others sneered, the bold simply stared in shock.

In such an intimate gathering, where everyone knew everyone, his presence stood out as a crow among doves.

Yet, it was just as he had anticipated. Feeling himself followed and spoken about as if he didn't belong, as if he was an animal that had wandered in off the street and was now trying to blend in, almost had him turning back and leaving. He might have expected it, but that did not make it any more bearable. If anything, it only made it worse for it confirmed what he knew all along.

In fact, the only reason he did not turn and leave was the reassuring presence of Virtue beside him. She linked her arm through his, holding him tight, silently urging him to disregard the stares and whispers. He was there for her, not for them.

"Isn't it just remarkable?" she whispered in stupor as they ventured further into the grand hall. "Have you ever seen anything quite like this?"

"It is… something," he said stiffly, doing his best to pay her attention while ignoring the masses about them.

"I had never attended one hosted by the Rochesters—my family was never so well off. But I had heard all about their lavish affairs from Prudence. I thought they might go all out, but this..." She grimaced. "It is a little ostentatious, no? I mean, who are they trying to impress?"

"Everyone, I would think."

"Are you impressed?"

"Not really."

"Well then, they have failed in my eyes." She smirked, then leaned in and discreetly kissed him on the cheek—his exposed cheek, for she walked on his left side.

She seemed keenly aware of how nervous he must have been feeling. It was not as if he was attempting to hide it. And it was for that reason that she was trying to engage in lighthearted conversation, pretending that nothing was the matter, that this was just another evening between the pair. Her hope, he guessed, was that he might relax under her gaze and forget where he was and who he was surrounded by.

"Amazing," she said again, head swiveling as she looked about the high ceilings. "Just… stunning."

"It is nothing compared to you," Sebastian murmured, his eyes never leaving his wife's.

"Oh, stop it, you charmer."

If Sebastian hadn't been feeling so withdrawn, he might have taken better notice of the great hall and those in attendance too, but it would have taken a lot more for him to engage in compliments for anything or anyone else with his wife by his side. He had eyes for Virtue only and he made sure to tell her as often as possible. This last week especially.

Tonight, for example, she was dressed in a dark crimson gown with golden hems and stitching; a floral pattern that looked as if vines were creeping up her dress and sprouting a canopy of flowers about her neckline. Her jewelry too, that was mostly rubies, while her headdress was golden and plum, and her mask white to match his own.

She was a prize and she needed to know it. Especially when taking into account the happenings of this past week, the letters that had arrived every day now, each as fawning and loving and provocative as the last. She claimed she had no idea who they came from, and he believed her. He did. But that did little to put his mind at ease, for it suggested that anyone anywhere might be vying for her affections.

The situation angered Sebastian in ways that were predictable. Jealousy consumed him, and he felt an innate desire to find the culprit and tear him limb from limb. Worry overtook him, as he feared that whoever it was might stop at nothing to see he and Virtue together. And guilt followed him, for he truly believed, deep down, that if he faltered, or if he gave Virtue a reason, she might see those letters as an opening…

That was partially why Sebastian had agreed to escort her tonight after all, an acknowledgment that Virtue's affection was not to be taken for granted and that he was a man worth keeping to. Partially, for he would have likely relented to his wife's stubborn insistence eventually anyway—though she needn't know that.

"Is my wife pleased?" he asked her sweetly, only for her face, lit up as it were, to meet his gaze in giddy excitement.

"Yes! But attending was only part of the deal. Don't think I shall let you waste this special night away without sharing at least one dance," Virtue declared, guiding him deftly through the throngs of crowds.

"Wh—what?" Sebastian stammered, only now realizing that she was in fact leading him toward the dance floor.

"A dance," she beamed at him eagerly. "I would very much like to dance."

He came to a sudden stop. Virtue, who had not expected it, carried on a few steps ahead before realizing and spinning back to face him.

She frowned at him and tilted her head adorably. "Something the matter?"

"You want to dance?"

"We are at a ball."

"Virtue..." It might have been his imagination, surely some of it was in his head, but he knew that people were gossiping about him. Why had he come here? What was he thinking? Even at a masquerade ball, he still felt as if he stood out. "I… I don't know if I can."

She rolled her eyes and took his hand. "Of course you can."

"Virtue..."

"Sebastian." She stepped in closer, dropping her voice so only he could hear. "Look around you. Everybody is too involved in their own lives to care about our presence. I doubt many even recognize us here."

"That is not true." A quick glance about confirmed his fears. It did not help that he had the height advantage over nearly everybody present, so eyes would naturally gravitate toward him.

Virtue sighed. "Are you here for them or for me?"

He frowned and leaned back. "For you, of course. I came here because you asked me to—"

"Then show me." She held out her elbow for him to link. "You think people are staring at you? Fine, let them. In fact, if they are going to watch, let us give them something to watch."

He could feel his face turn red. And those whispers, they became louder and noisier; shouting, was what they sounded like. The room felt as if it was growing small about him, his body started to turn hot, and it was all he could do to keep himself from falling to his knees and ripping out his hair. Or was it all just in his imagination? He could not tell anymore.

But then something happened. Virtue, seeming to sense his panic, took both his hands and forced him to meet her eyes. Those big, beautiful emerald eyes of hers. No judgment in them. No bitterness at the way he was behaving. They were calm and peaceful and for him only.

Sebastian felt himself begin to relax. Under her touch, wrapped in her gaze, he was able to pull himself out of the hole he was spiraling down.

"All right," he somehow managed. "One dance won't kill me."

She beamed. "I knew you would say yes." Still holding him by the hands, she led him through the crowd and to the dance floor.

Sebastian felt nervous and exposed but he reminded himself again that this was not for him but for Virtue. Those letters came back to him, a warning that if he took her for granted, he might lose her. What was more, as they reached the dance floor, he was sure he spied none other than Lord Prescott watching them. The man scowled at the sight of Sebastian holding his wife's hand, and he made sure to narrow his eyes as they met Sebastian's.

He had suspected that Lord Prescott was the one sending those letters and where he had no proof, he felt that this was justification for his suspicions. He glared deep at the man, which had him looking away and then pushing back through the crowd as if to escape.

"There you are," Virtue beamed when she saw his smile. "See, this is not so bad."

"No, I suppose it is not," he chuckled as they walked to the center of the dancefloor.

There were a dozen couples standing there waiting for the music to begin, but the floor may as well have been empty for how Sebastian felt. He held Virtue by her right hand, resting his other on the delicious curve of her hip. They stood face to face, so close that she was all he could see—all that he needed to see. The smile in her eyes gave him strength and the feel of her body against his gave him courage.

Let the people talk. Let them indulge in their gossip. Let them laugh and mock if they must. But also, let them witness how truly happy he and Virtue were. Let tonight be the night the idle rumors perished.

The music began and Sebastian fell back into old rhythms as if they had never left. Raised in the peerage, the art of dance was ingrained in him. Born for this, he was, and tonight it showed. With his wife in his arms, the two swept across the dance floor as one. A graceful waltz, gliding in perfect synchronicity, gazes locked, the music nearly superfluous because they didn't dance to that but to the rhythms of one another.

And soon enough, those whispers died down and the stares faded. Soon enough, the onlookers began to see that there was nothing that needed watching, nothing sinister or wicked or evil about their pairing. They were here because they wanted to be; happy, content, and enjoying one another's company in ways that he was sure many people tonight might envy.

Let the letters come. In that moment, as they danced, Sebastian found he no longer cared. Virtue had reawakened a side of him that he had thought long since dead and all he could do, all he would ever do, was spend the rest of his life trying to repay her.

Before long, one dance faded into another, and then another, and countless many others. It had felt like hours had passed with them just in each other's arms before Virtue had decided to pull him away for a short respite and some wine. Sebastian allowed himself a small smile as he led his wife to the refreshment table.

As he handed Virtue a glass of red wine, he noticed a figure approaching them. A man, slightly shorter than Sebastian, with a nervous energy about him. His dark hair was neatly combed, and his eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Sebastian's instincts, honed from years of vigilance, tensed, but he kept his expression neutral.

"Your—Your Grace," the man stammered, bowing with great deference. "I am Lord Tarrow, Baron of Selwich. It is indeed a profound honor to make your acquaintance."

Sebastian acknowledged the man with a nod, his grip on the punch glass tightening slightly. "Lord Tarrow," he responded, his voice even yet cautious.

Virtue, sensing Sebastian's unease, stepped in smoothly. "Lord Tarrow, how lovely to see you again. We met briefly at Lady Abernathy's ball."

Recognition flickered in Tarrow's eyes. "Ah, yes! The unfortunate affair with the wine." Tarrow waved a hand dismissively. "Think nothing of it. We all have our moments of clumsiness, do we not?" He turned back to Sebastian, wringing his hands suddenly, his composure faltering. " I—I just wanted to say what an honor it is to meet you, Your Grace. The tales of your valor during the war… well, they are held in the highest esteem within my family."

Sebastian's initial wariness began to soften. "Oh. Thank you, Lord Tarrow. Your words are greatly appreciated."

The baron's relief was palpable, and his smile, though tentative, was genuinely warm. "Indeed, Your Grace. I must confess, I have studied your military strategies in great depth too. Your leadership of the Royal Dragoons at the Battle of Salamanca was truly exemplary. I long to accomplish a similar feat someday!"

Sebastian's features hardened for a moment, memories of the battlefield flashing before his eyes. "The war is behind us, Lord Tarrow. Tonight, let us focus on more... peaceful endeavors."

"My apologies, Your Grace," the Baron laughed awkwardly. "I sometimes let my enthusiasm carry me away. Well, I shall not take up much more of your time, I just wanted to say, it is a privilege to see you here tonight."

Sebastian nodded, still somewhat stiff. Before he could offer a reply, another figure approached—a tall, distinguished man with silver hair and a commanding presence. He bowed respectfully. "Your Graces, Lord Tarrow. May I have the honor of introducing myself? I am Lord Fitzwilliam, Earl of Kimberley."

Sebastian inclined his head, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden attention. "My Lord."

Fitzwilliam smiled warmly. "It is a pleasure to see you among us, Your Grace. I had the pleasure of knowing your father. We once spent a memorable summer foxhunting when you were but a lad. I recall you were quite fearless, even then."

"Oh, you must tell me more—my husband rarely indulges in recounting tales from his youth," Virtue interjected with an eager smile.

As they conversed, another couple joined the group, exchanging introductions and warm greetings. Sebastian felt the knot of tension in his chest begin to loosen. Virtue, ever graceful, facilitated the conversations, her presence a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

Throughout the evening, more guests approached, each one offering kind words and expressing their admiration. Sebastian found himself relaxing, if only slightly, as the night wore on. The warmth of the room, the gentle hum of conversation, and the supportive presence of his wife by his side all worked together to create a sense of acceptance he had long thought impossible.

"Come!" Virtue cried excitedly, clutching her husband's hand and dragging him through the quiet corridors of the Rochester Estate. "Or I might just leave you behind."

It was well into the night now, and the ballroom, alive with music and dancing, was now a floor below them. After mingling with a host of guests and sharing a few more dances, Virtue and Sebastian had decided to slip away to the balcony for a breath of fresh air. Presently, they found themselves playfully lost within the labyrinthine manor, a delightful adventure in itself.

"You wouldn't dare!" Sebastian chuckled deeply as he trailed behind her.

"Dare I would!" she widened her eyes at him, laughing the whole while. "It is not as though I am without my admirers."

He glared at her, but it was all in good fun. "Careful, Virtue."

"It is not to say you are without your own. Did you see the way the Baron of Tarrow was eyeing you for the last half hour!" she giggled, tugging him along.

Sebastian burst into a fit of laughter once more.

Oh, what a wonderful night! Virtue could scarcely believe it. Though she would not admit it now, she had been nervous about tonight, worried that bringing her husband to such an event might be a bridge too far. That it was too early for them, too soon. That one wrong thing said, or one awkward moment might undo him.

He did not enjoy crowds. He did not enjoy people. He had spent half a lifetime hiding from them, for fear that he might be judged. But she had needed him here tonight, as much for her as for him. Yes, she wished to show the ton that their marriage was a happy one and the things people had once said were far from the truth. Yes, she had wanted to show off in a way, to prove herself as much as anything. But she had also wanted it for Sebastian's sake, knowing that if he could make it through tonight, then anything was possible.

As it happened, her worries were utterly unfounded.

"Where are you taking me?" he chuckled as she led him.

"Away. Forever!" she laughed, tripping, only to catch herself and draw him closer in a single fluid motion.

"As long as you return me by sun-up," Sebastian joked. "For you know of the perils that await me if I am out past dawn."

"Ah, yes, the sun burns your skin and you melt."

"Quite so."

Virtue had been drinking casually all night. Nothing too bawdy, but she'd had more than her fair share. Enough that she was feeling free and unencumbered, caring naught for the people she bumped into or the way she tripped over her skirts.

Past the grandeur of the grand hall, near the back of the Rochester Estate, there stretched a broad balcony that curved elegantly around the manor. It boasted a view of the gardens, whispered to be nothing short of enchanting, and tonight, under the moon's watchful eye, she longed to see it. She needed the cool embrace of the evening air to temper the heat that the vigorous dancing—and Sebastian's nearness—had kindled within her. Though the pair had been lost for a few short minutes, they had finally ended up locating the balcony doors with relative ease.

Stepping onto the balcony, the chill of the night air caressed Virtue's skin, eliciting a sigh of deep relief from her lips. Holding tightly to Sebastian's hand, she spun around, laughter bubbling from her as she lost her balance and fell into his waiting arms.

"My lady," he teased, his strong arms tightening around her delicate frame. "Have you been in your cups tonight?"

"Have you?" she playfully accused, meeting his gaze with an impish stare.

His smile was a slow spread of warmth in the cool night. "I confess, I have indulged. Yet unlike you, my dear, I am no worse for the wear."

"Oh, stop it." She slapped his broad chest lightly. "But before you do, carry me to the edge, will you? I would like to take in the view."

He chuckled, and at her behest, scooped her up in his arms and carried her across the balcony. The air was filled with a quiet murmur, with most guests having retreated indoors, leaving only a few couples who lingered in the shadows, relishing the quiet and the privacy the darkness afforded. Sebastian, seeming to sense that she wished for privacy, carried her towards the furthest end of the balcony, rounding the corner of the manor to a more secluded nook.

There, nestled discreetly, was a quaint spot featuring a lone bench upon which he set her down with gentle care. There was no light where they sat, yet the lanterns from the garden below cast a serene glow, illuminating a splendidly decorated garden, anchored by a grand marble fountain as its cornerstone. Among the lanterns, she spied a few couples walking hand in hand, a few kissing, and a few stealing behind hedges for moments left to the imagination.

"It is magnificent, is it not?" Virtue gushed, her eyes wide with delight. She hoped to turn the Greystone Gardens into a sight nearly as spectacular as this sprawling vista when she was done with the renovations.

"It sure is something," Sebastian replied nonchalantly.

She snorted and turned on him. "I will require more than that."

He frowned beneath his mask. "Meaning?"

"Verve," she declared, tapping his chest. "A true feeling that is not guarded behind seven layers of heavy stone walls. Share with me your genuine thoughts."

Sebastian laughed softly and shook his head as his gaze swept back over the lush gardens. "It is... exquisite. Breathtaking. A marvel to behold. But..." He trailed off.

"Yes?" she leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and anticipation.

He turned to face her with a smile that reached his eyes. "It pales in comparison to you."

"Oh..." Her cheeks warmed. She knew it to be a silly little platitude, but she blushed anyway. "Can you ever be serious?"

"Aren't I always?"

She looked at him, sitting beside her, gazing at her visage rather than admiring the view. Although, she supposed, he was admiring a view, one that he clearly preferred to some silly garden. Feeling a flush of warmth, she daringly removed her mask and let it fall to the marble floor beside her.

"Scandalous," Sebastian feigned a gasp.

She giggled and met his eyes. Those deep, dark eyes. Every day she was married to him, she found herself getting more and more lost in them. And not just the eyes, but the face that framed them. He believed himself hideous and disfigured, but to her, he was the epitome of handsomeness. A strong face. A kind soul. Not the monster he was so insistent on pretending to be.

"Take off your mask," she whispered, her voice soft but firm.

He winced slightly. "Virtue... please."

"Sebastian." She captured his hands in hers and held his intense gaze. "I... I want to see you without it. Just for a moment."

His eyes darted about them nervously. "I... what if someone sees?"

"Who cares what these people think," she declared boldly. "Let them see."

"But—"

"You do not need the mask, Sebastian. You know you don't. But so long as you wear it, you convince yourself that you do. Take it off..." She squeezed his hands. "For me."

It was emotional manipulation at its finest. Virtue had long since realized how much her husband struggled to say no to her, how much he loathed it. And indeed, at those words, she could sense the fight within him, that repulsion he felt toward himself, battling with his need to please her. Sensing his inner turmoil, she gently reached up, cupped her hand under the mask, and deftly removed it.

"There," she offered a coy smile that was meant only for him as he reluctantly faced her. "Much better."

Maybe it was the setting—the enchantment of the evening, for it had been truly wonderful and just a touch romantic. Maybe it was the wine, for now as she relaxed, she felt it in her system, coursing warmly through her veins, stirring daring thoughts. Or maybe it was just the fact that Virtue was undeniably attracted to her husband in all the ways one could be. The dark features. The rugged scar and masculine visage. The size of him, so formidable and powerful and strong. All of it!

In that moment, alone as they were, gazing deeply into one another's eyes, there was but one thing that Virtue wanted more than anything in the world.

So, she took it.

A wicked smile danced across Virtue's lips as she leaned up and captured Sebastian's mouth with hers. His response was immediate, his lips curling into a smile as he welcomed her into his arms, perhaps thinking this tender exchange would end with just a kiss. Oh, how he would be delightfully mistaken!

With a clawing grasp, she clasped the back of his head, pressing him closer as she explored the depths of his mouth. Her lips coaxed his apart, her tongue delving passionately, claiming him with an intensity that left her breathless. He gasped, his initial instinct to retreat, but she was relentless.

"Virtue—" he protested weakly. "Not here."

"Why not?" Her voice was a sultry whisper as she maneuvered herself forward, elegantly lifting a leg to straddle his lap. She melded her body to his, her movements fluid and deliberate, her legs wrapping tightly around him as she trailed kisses up his jaw and teased the shell of his ear with her tongue before descending to the tender skin of his neck.

"Because... because... we... because..." Sebastian's words faltered, lost in the soft moans that escaped him as her tongue traced a path further down his neck. Beneath her, she felt his desire, hard and undeniable against her.

"You need to stop worrying what people think," she murmured between fervent kisses, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his coat and shirt to expose his rigid chest to the cool night air—and her warm lips. "All that matters is what we think of each other."

He leaned back against the bench, allowing her to lavish attention on his exposed neck and chest, her womanhood rubbing against his steely thigh. Sebastian's response to her command was a fierce growl, his grip on her thighs tightening. With the moon shining above them, he might have let forth a howl if not for the very real fact that there were people right around the corner. So, with very few other options, he took her.

Virtue had grown familiar with Sebastian's touch, his way of making love that had evolved from mere passion to a deep, impassioned worship of her body. And she loved every second of it.

He lifted her in one fluid motion, a single arm wrapping around her body as he stood. Virtue acted on impulse, locking her legs around his waist in a vice grip, peppering his neck with kisses that soon turned to playful bites. A few short strides had him setting her upon the railing of the balcony, face to face, allowing him the freedom to capture her lips fully as his fingers dug into her hips and squeezed there.

This was not the time for foreplay. There was no privacy to leisurely admire and savor each other's bodies as they so often did. No. This was a moment fueled by sheer passion, demanding swift and decisive actions.

Lucky, then, that Sebastian was in perfect accord, his desires mirroring her own. Lucky also then, that when it came to said desires, he was always ready to lead them in their dance of intimacy.

Her hands made quick work of his breeches, pushing them down his legs, while his hands were equally busy, pushing her knees apart and bundling away her skirts. She gasped when his fingers found that perfect spot and explored, ensuring she was ready, igniting her arousal to new heights. She bit down on his shoulder as his fingers rubbed at her delicate pearl, her own hand tightening around his manhood as he teased her relentlessly.

"Please… do it," she whispered urgently into his ear, her voice thick with desire.

"You don't tell me what to do," he growled against her ear, his grip on her thighs tightening, promising marks she would wear like badges of their passion tomorrow.

"Is that so?" she challenged in defiance and invitation.

Sebastian's grin was predatory, as he, still gripping her crudely by the thighs, elbowed her knees about his waist, and pulled her into him in one swift, forceful movement. She felt him, intense and overwhelming, as he filled her agonizingly slowly, each movement drawing him deeper and deeper… until she possessed him entirely. Then, moaning into the hollow beneath her ear, he began to move—his thrusts hard, fast, and unrelenting.

His large hands supported her by the small of her back while her legs stayed wrapped around his waist, beckoning her to arch deeply, her body almost suspended over the railing of the balcony like a contortionist specter. They were cloaked in shadows, yet the moon cast its gleaming light over them, almost spotlighting their union for the world—or anyone daring enough to look up—to witness. And if not see, hear, for the noises they made were animalistic, wolves in heat, predators tearing apart prey. And it was that thrill of being caught that had her careering toward the edge.

On that balcony, with the ball raging behind them, the two lovers treated one another's bodies with contempt as they ravaged and savaged and devoured the other, Virtue's cries mingling with Sebastian's deep, animalistic howls.

Virtue had always wanted to bring Sebastian out of his shell, and she knew, in that moment, she had succeeded. What was more, he was bringing her out of her own, and together as one, this marriage was becoming more than either might have ever imagined.