Chapter 8

Sebastian paced his room, consumed in a haze of fury. Long, heavy strides. Short, sharp turns. Fists thrown at the air, although he would have liked to have thrown them at something solid. The hearth burned hot in the corner of his room, and he felt its fire simmering deep inside his body. Anger was something he knew well. Rage too, was a familiar emotion. But this right here, this was something else entirely. A new emotion that he was struggling to reckon with.

The fury that beset his pace was aimed at himself, his own actions, for he deserved no less. What he had done back in that carriage, the way he had treated his new wife... he still could scarcely fathom it. He had baited her, lured her in with his comments, and then spewed fire when she had acted precisely as she had every right to do.

What had he been thinking?! She had declared outright, for his ears alone, that people branded him a monster. Yet, what course had he chosen? To embody that very beast they accused him of being! One small comment and he had pounced like a savage beast, poised to rip her throat.

It was not of her doing. She could scarcely have understood the significance Simon's brother held for him. All she endeavored was to defend her own honor, yet he had addressed her with the discourtesy one might reserve for a ruffian in a street skirmish.

He had ruined his first impression, and for that, he was beyond furious with himself.

That fury was also mingled with embarrassment. And not just at the way he had snapped, but at everything that had happened beforehand. The conversation they'd had, or that she had attempted to have... just thinking on it caused him to cringe. She had tried so hard to make him open to her, to make him say something, anything! And what had he done? Mumbled his way through half answers and evasive dismissals.

Once, a lifetime ago now, Sebastian had been as good with women as anyone. His size made him intimidating, but it added a thrilling edge that many women found irresistible. And he'd played into it, taking advantage of their fantasies and proving himself to be as adept at seduction as any man he knew. But the war had changed him. His deformity had changed him. Years spent now in isolation, having not spoken to a woman in years, and he was a boy before a woman, barely able to look her in the eyes.

It did little to help that she was so strikingly beautiful too. Oh yes, she was a vision. A true work of art. The fiery red hair. The rosy cheeks. The curves... Sebastian felt his body flush hot as he pictured her, as he had been doing for much of that ride before she spoke to him. And where there might have been a chance that they would connect, find some common ground, his inability to utter more than a few words all but ensured that would never happen.

Oh, and the very small fact he'd very nearly attacked her!

It was this lingering shame that had driven Sebastian to sequester himself to his chamber. As soon as the carriage had arrived, he'd given her a perfunctory introduction to the staff, made some excuse about needing to retire to his study, and then left her side. The hour was still early, supper was yet to be served, and he knew he should have been using this time to acquaint her with her new home. Yet, the fear was too much—fear of his own unpredictable temper, fear of how he might react in her presence, and above all, fear of what she might think of him now.

Lucky then, that he didn't imagine she would want to see him either. Likely, she was just now settling into the new chambers the staff had prepared for her, content to ignore him and hope that she wouldn't have to deal with her new husband until tomorrow at the very earliest—

"Your Grace..." A voice, soft and hesitant, floated from the doorway.

Still pacing, Sebastian whirled around instinctively, his eyes widening as he saw his wife hovering uncertainly at the threshold of his chamber. Panic surged within him, which he swiftly forced down, for he'd embarrassed himself enough lately.

"What do you want?" he uttered, the words sharper than intended. He saw her flinch and immediately regretted his tone. "I mean…" he tried again, softer this time, "what -- what is it you need?"

She lingered by the doorway. Still graceful as ever in her lace and silk bridal finery, still nervous beyond comprehension. He was stricken with remorse at his continuous harsh treatment toward her. She was a delicate kitten, and he, nothing more than a wild cur deserving of his harsh fate. "I was just..." Her voice faltered, her lips capturing a trembling breath as she bit into her lower lip, a spark of determination igniting in her gaze. "I was hoping I might offer my apologies."

"Apologies?" he barked stupidly.

"Yes," she responded firmly, seeming to muster some bravery. "For earlier, what I said..." She trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air, waiting for him to grasp the olive branch she was tentatively extending.

Sebastian furrowed his brow, genuinely puzzled by what she might feel the need to apologize for. "I am afraid I am not understanding."

She sighed and looked at him with frustration, as if she thought he was teasing her. "About your friendship with... with Lord Wellington's brother. I had no right to say such a thing and I wanted to let you know that I am sorry."

"Oh." He blinked, taken aback by her candidness. "Thank you." He didn't know what else to say.

"You're welcome." She clicked her tongue, still lingering by the doorway.

"I mean..." Compelled by a sudden impulse to close the distance between them, he started towards her, only to halt midway as she recoiled at his approach. He froze, cursing himself for the fear he had wrought upon her. He raised his hands in the air. "That is very kind of you. And there is no need to apologize, the fault lies squarely with myself. I overreacted to a mere question, and for that, it is I who should be seeking your forgiveness."

This had her smile blossoming, a sight that sent his heart to flutter. She truly was radiant, and it only served to make him painfully aware of his unworthiness of her. A small, selfish part of him almost hoped some of the rumors surrounding her were true, at least that might explain what she was doing with him. At least that might give him some sort of leverage in this uneven match.

"It is all well, Your Grace. But thank you for saying." Her voice was gentle this time.

"And please, we are now man and wife, so this whole ‘Your Grace' business..." he added. "You may call me Sebastian—if you wish it, of course."

"I do." Her beam grew. "And you may call me Virtue."

He could no longer suppress his smile at that. "All right… Virtue." The sound of her name on his lips was such a small thing but he could feel the tension between them shift to a place it hadn't been before. Not hostile. Not awkward. Almost accepting, as if they had just traversed some invisible barrier that he hadn't even realized to be erected between them. "That is a lovely name," he then said, before almost immediately berating himself internally for such a trite remark.

She rolled her eyes playfully, confirming the fact. "I had no idea you were to be this charming."

"Sorry," he grimaced, acknowledging the awkwardness of his comment. "It has been a long day, I fear."

"Indeed it has."

"For that reason..." A part of him yearned to invite her to supper, but another part thought to retreat before he could undo the fragile progress they had made. "I think I might turn in early tonight. If you are famished, I shall ask the staff to prepare a late-night feast for yourself. But I hear my bed calling me..." He chuckled awkwardly.

"Oh, it's fine, I could not possibly eat." Her reply was gracious, yet Sebastian sensed a touch of disappointment evidenced in her sheepish pout—perhaps at the evening ending so abruptly.

"Alright."

But still, she remained in his doorway. He thought their conversation had concluded and that she might excuse herself. Yet no, there she stood, eyeing him with a strange look on her face that he didn't understand... until he did.

Though Sebastian might have been somewhat detached from the intricacies of feminine wiles, he was by no means a fool. That look in her eye was unmistakable, and where he found it hard to believe she was fixing it on him, he also shouldn't have been surprised. On the one hand, they were man and wife, this was their wedding night, and it was expected. But on the other hand, the rumors he had heard about Virtue—they came roaring back to him as if slapping him across the face. He had dismissed them as exaggerations, perhaps even utter fabrications. How could such a seemingly innocent creature be the subject of such lurid tales?

And yet, the way that she looked at him... was it possible she wished for him to… bed her?

Sebastian felt himself begin to grow hot. Not from the gentle glow of the hearth, but from the way in which blood ushered to surge through his veins. His eyes traced the silhouette of her form beneath the forgiving drape of her gown, each curve illuminated by the backlit corridor and teasing his senses, stoking a deep, primal longing within him. Oh, how he ached to cross the room in powerful strides, to lift her effortlessly into his arms and carry her to their marital bed with a fervor that both his position and their vows justified.

Yet, a formidable restraint shackled him to the spot. A self-imposed restraint. Their marriage was conceived as a pact of convenience, intended solely to secure his estate and title. It was never meant to entwine their souls or bodies in the throes of passion. He was convinced Virtue understood this too—had she not agreed to the same?

The torment of holding himself back, of denying the intense desire that threatened to overthrow his every conviction, was nearly unbearable…

"There is something we… need to discuss," he stammered awkwardly.

"Oh?" Her face perked up.

"Yes." Sebastian's gaze drifted away from hers, unable to meet her doe-like eyes, for they stirred in his breeches a desire that would utterly be his undoing. "This marriage. I do not know what you have come to expect from it, but... well, it is no normal circumstance."

"I am aware," Virtue replied, her voice steady.

"And I want you to understand that I don't… I don't expect anything from you. Nor should you from me. I would hope for us to be companionable, of course, but beyond that..." He swallowed hard and forced himself to meet her gaze finally, if only to convey his sincerity. "Do not think I will try and... and..." His face grew hot. "Impose my right as a husband."

She leaned back, her brow creasing, a flicker of disappointment crossing her eyes. "Oh, is that what you think I'm—"

"I am aware of the rumors," he blurted out, for his tongue was wagging, and he could not bring it to heel. "And although I cannot judge their veracity, you must know, I am not that sort of man. Whatever you may have done or been before this union is one thing, but now that we are man and wife... again... I don't... there is nothing expected..." He was rambling and he knew it.

Virtue's expression grew cold and the temperature in the room dropped to match it. "The rumors?" she whispered, each word laced with frost.

He blinked. "Yes. But as I said, whether they are true or not is—"

"Oh, whether they are true or not, is it?" she hissed back, her voice sharpening like a blade. "As if there may be a chance they are?"

"What? No!" He moved toward her, and she took a step back—but this time it was not out of fear, but hurt. "I did not mean—"

"I know precisely what you mean, Sebastian." The name dripped from her tongue like poison—for a moment, it had him wishing he had not asked her to use it just yet. "I would have thought that you of all people would know that gossip is nothing more than idle chatter. Nor does it define a person."

"I know that!"

"What then? Because of the things you have heard of me, you think... you think I am some wanton chit, desperate to tear my clothes off and drag you to bed? That I cannot contain myself around you?" Her voice rose, a tumult of indignation and disbelief swirling in her words.

"No!" he hastened to reply. "Not at all!"

"Because I have news for you," she snarled, her teeth bared in a grimace that shattered his earlier image of her. Perhaps she was not the docile kitten he had imagined after all. "I have no desires for you whatsoever. I would rather spend the rest of my life in chastity than be forced to share a bed with the likes of you." The way she spat out the word ‘you' pierced his heart like a dagger, loaded with disgust and contempt.

Sebastian reeled back, wounded by her venom. "I apologize, I did not mean it."

"It sounds like you did."

"I misspoke."

"You said precisely what you were thinking."

"Please, I—"

"Am retiring to bed, I know. You made that abundantly clear." She held her chin high, spun about, and swept out of his chamber. Pausing at the threshold, she threw a final glance back, her eyes sharp as knives. "You are right, it has been a long day, and much like yourself, I do not have an appetite. In fact, I think I shall be retiring too now."

"Virtue..." He half reached out to stop her but knew he didn't have it in himself to commit to the act. He had said enough tonight. He had ruined everything. Best he quit while he was behind, without risking falling back even further.

"Goodnight, husband." She curled her lip at him. "Sleep well."

And then, she was gone. The door was left open and Sebastian heard her feet stomping down the hall until they disappeared. He had spent many a night alone across the last few years; in a home that was near empty, the sounds of silence were his only companion. But tonight, for the first time in a long time, that sound was magnified tenfold.

He sat down on the end of his bed, listening to the silence, feeling as alone as he ever had. An irony which he was more than aware of.

When he had first agreed to marry Lady Hartleigh, he had heard the rumors of her but assumed them to be exaggerated. In fact, he had wanted them to be. A meek wife was what he desired, one to live with while still able to exist as he had before—alone. But Lady Hartleigh was different. A fiery temperament. A stubbornness that bordered on combative. And a level of confidence and self-assurance that was as alluring as it would be trouble.

Despite what he may have wanted, Sebastian could already feel himself warming to his new wife in ways he couldn't have imagined. Ways that he didn't even realize he wanted until now. They made that silence seem louder somehow, more isolating, more lonesome. He could quite physically hear her absence.

Sebastian never expected married life to be simple but this, he realized, was going to be something else entirely.