Chapter 5

1 WEEK LATER

"Oh, dear Father in Heaven, tell me you do not plan on wearing that," Simon groaned with a tone of disdain, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What?" Sebastian Foxworth blinked, the tight confines of the carriage slamming back into immediate focus. His mind had been elsewhere, attention fixed beyond the window of the carriage, watching the lush meadows and green pastures of the English countryside as they rolled on by. He found it calmed his nerves to imagine himself riding on horseback across them, free to go where he wanted, when he wanted, without having to worry about the trappings of the life he was born into or the glares of the ton.

"That." Simon, seated across from him, pointed not so subtly at Sebastian's face. "You are not seriously considering wearing it to the wedding? The ceremony, of all places! Surely not."

Almost instinctively, Sebastian's hand rose to touch the mask that obscured the right side of his face. It had become such a constant in his life that he occasionally forgot its presence, feeling as intrinsic a part of him as his hair or nose. The mask, a plain white domino, was crafted to cover the right side of his face, extending from his forehead, sweeping past his nose and down to his chin—a stark deviation from the typical masks that merely veiled the eyes. The first time he had donned it, it had felt suffocating. Now, the thought of venturing outside without it was unimaginable.

"I hadn't really thought about it," Sebastian lied, his gaze drifting back to the window. "I suppose so."

Simon's lip curled slightly, a mix of skepticism and concern etching his features. "Sebastian, really… how do you imagine that will look?"

"You tell me."

"I do not mean like that," Simon clarified, his tone softening. "Truthfully, I am so accustomed to seeing you in it that it barely registers. I might even venture to say it has become a part of your charm," he tittered. "But I have known you for most of your adult life. I know what to expect. Your bride-to-be, however…" He let the point dangle between them—there was no need to finish it.

"I don't care what she thinks," Sebastian retorted sharply, the edge in his voice masking a far bitter truth. "And if we are to be wed, she may as well adjust to it now. It is certainly preferable to the alternative."

"You intend to wear it around the castle too, then? For as long as you are married? During supper, or evening strolls, even in the intimate confines of the bedchamber..." Simon's grin broadened mischievously.

"What do you think?" Sebastian snapped.

"I had not thought about it," Simon conceded after a pause. He then studied Sebastian for a moment, watching him across the carriage, eyes narrowed, expression taken by concern. "But are you truly certain this is wise?"

"Meaning?"

"The marriage. Are you sure this is the right course of action? I understand why you might think so. And on the surface, yes, it appears a prudent choice, quite unexpected too," he chuckled, which Sebastian sensed was his attempt to lighten the mood. "But is it the right thing? This Lady Hartleigh... you know what the ton says about her."

"What do I care for the gossip of the ton?" Sebastian retorted with a dismissive wave.

"If even a fragment of what's said is true, this entire marriage has the potential to blow up in your face." He grimaced. "…Pardon the expression." Sebastian scowled at him, and Simon hurried to explain. "She is going to be trouble, Sebastian. There was a reason her father was so eager to see her wed, and it appears to have everything to do with the woman he is trying to offhand onto you."

"You believe this is some sort of ruse?"

"No, not a ruse," Simon clarified. "Rather, a precarious situation that I fear you haven't fully considered. And frankly, I don't believe you have nearly enough thought through."

"And what do you suppose is the alternative?" Feeling himself growing irritated, Sebastian turned his gaze back to the passing scenery outside the window. They must have been only a few miles from their destination now—given the smattering of cottages that were growing in abundance—and he was desperate to escape the confines of this tiny carriage. It felt like a jail cell, or rather, like a ship transporting him to a new world that he had no desire to see. "You of all people are well aware of the dire state of the castle my father left behind. My finances are dwindling; my inheritance has been grossly mismanaged. If I don't take decisive action soon..." He shook his head, a mixture of frustration and resignation in his voice. "This marriage is a safeguard against the creditors soon to be circling like vultures. The dowry alone could stabilize my financial situation until I can find my feet once more."

"I told you, I would happily lend you the money," Simon insisted. "It would be an—"

"No," Sebastian interjected with a growl. He looked his friend in the eye so that he could see that this conversation had reached its end. Borrowing money from Simon and his family, after all the pain he had inadvertently brought upon them, was not an option he would consider. "This is my burden, and I alone will resolve it. This marriage is the only way forward."

"And Lady Hartleigh?" Simon pressed. "Marriage is complex enough, but with her..." He sighed, shaking his head. "It will not be simple, my good man."

"When has anything in my life ever been simple?" Sebastian replied, a bitter laugh escaping him as he unconsciously adjusted his mask. The irony of his situation didn't escape him either—it seemed to forge a sort of grim resolve within him, in fact. "Why should this marriage be any different?"

Only some resolve, however. The truth was, despite Sebastian's assurances that he had made the right decision, and that he was prepared for the consequences they wrought, inside he was more terrified than he'd ever been in his entire life. Considering the dark and treacherous paths he had walked, his current dread spoke volumes about the gravity of his decision.

Last week, His Grace, Sebastian, Duke of Greystone, had set a course that would irrevocably alter his life in ways he could scarcely comprehend. Whether this change would ultimately be for better or worse remained shrouded in uncertainty. He truly had no idea. The only comfort he could take, as morose as it might have been to admit, was that things couldn't get any worse than they already were.

As to the decision he had made? It was a marriage of all things, committing himself to a woman whom he had never met, one who he wouldn't lay eyes on for the first time until he saw her appear at the end of the aisle.

But that was also by design.

Once more, his hand strayed to his white domino mask, a slight adjustment made. He hadn't given much thought to it until his closest friend, Lord Simon Wellington, commented on it just now. It had become so much a part of him, that the idea of unlacing it for the ceremony had never truly crossed his mind. But would that be so strange? Would his bride see him wearing his mask and wonder at what she had gotten herself into? Would it frighten her? Despite the harsh rumors that swirled around Sebastian, the last thing he wanted was to intimidate his bride. In fact, as strange as it was for him to consider, a small part of him even wanted her to like him.

But that was folly, he knew. He chastised himself for even entertaining the thought. He was a monster, inside and out. A freak, or so some people said of him. And for that reason, he knew that this marriage would never be more than what it had started out as; a binding of two lives—not out of desire but necessity.

"Christ, why did they deem it a necessity to select a parish halfway across England," Simon groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Though he was of a lesser stature than Sebastian, he made a show of stretching his legs as if trapped in a coffin as opposed to a sumptuous carriage. "You ought to have made one of the prerequisites of the marriage that she come to you."

Sebastian's thoughts were pulled back from their dark reverie. "She is already coming to live with me at Greystone, Simon. Leaving behind everything she knows. I thought a ceremony at her father's parish was the least I could offer in return."

"The least?" He blew through his lips. "By the sounds of it, you're still drawing the shorter straw in this arrangement where I'm concerned."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Sebastian replied dryly.

Simon leaned forward abruptly at that, his voice lowering to a scandalous hush. "But you have heard what they say about her, have you not?" His eyes flashed eagerness. "The reason her last betrothal fell apart -- not that she got that far, mind you. It has been circulated that—"

"I am well aware of what has been circulated," Sebastian interjected sharply.

"Are you, really? Because you don't seem overly concerned. If it were my future bride who was rumored to be caught in a compromising position with—"

"Enough!" Sebastian's voice thundered, causing Simon to recoil back into his seat. "Apologies," he muttered after a moment. "I didn't mean to snap."

"No, no," Simon hastened to reassure him, his voice lighter now. "The two of you are to be wed, and I ought to know better than to speak of her like that. In fact..." His smile broadened, almost theatrically. "I am sure that she is as delightful as a daisy in spring and just as lovely. The two of you will make a fine pairing."

Sebastian eyed Simon warningly but decided not to pursue the conversation any further. He had a temper, Sebastian, one he couldn't always control. And seeing as he had so few friends to begin with, Simon being his closest, he was loath to alienate one of his only allies over idle gossip or fleeting irritations.

The rumors he had heard about Lady Hartleigh didn't bother Sebastian as much as they should have. After all, he knew firsthand the sting of unheralded gossip and how exaggerated it might be. Surely, the things they said about her weren't all true? But then, why did her father agree to this marriage so readily? Why to him, of all people? A Duke, sure. But when considering his circumstances... he should have been the last person a father would wish to see their only daughter wed.

It added a layer of confusion to what was already a convoluted situation. One that Sebastian had spent the better part of a week agonizing over. He had never planned on getting married. He wouldn't burden someone with such a thing. But driven by dire circumstances, he found himself on the precipice of a union that felt both inevitable and ill-fated. The wedding was set for tomorrow; there was no retreat now. In less than twenty-four hours, he and Lady Hartleigh would be bound together, for better or for worse...

And for worse seemed to be the most probable outcome. Not necessarily because he credited the gossip swirling around his bride-to-be, but rather due to the whispers that shadowed his own step. Not all the rumors they spoke were true, but not all of them were false either. For, in any rumor, there is a nugget of truth and, as the carriage made its way gently along the road, the sun just now setting behind them, Sebastian again found himself tracing the contours of his mask, knowing in his heart this venture of his was doomed to failure.

His future wife, Lady Hartleigh, would take one look at him and scream for the heavens. She would see him as a monster or a beast, as everyone else did. And to make matters even more tragic, where his physical deformity was indeed repugnant, it wasn't even his darkest flaw. That deeper, more sinister aspect of himself would eventually come to light.

And it was this, above all, that convinced him of the marriage's inevitable demise before it could even truly begin.