Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

T here had been many parties held at Garringford Corners over the years since her father's death when it had only been Marianne and Finn. During those parties her brother and his cronies often spent a day away participating in what Finn teased were "manly pursuits". In theory, she was invited to join in because Finn would never truly leave her out, but she'd more often than not welcomed the solitude, preparing for whatever events were next on the docket or reading and relaxing.

But today she had found herself watching the clock all afternoon. Listening for the footfalls of the gentleman. Of Sebastian in particular.

Now she sat in her chamber, fully dressed for supper and the ball which would follow, and she let her gaze move to the drawer in her dressing table where she had stashed Claudia's list earlier.

She hadn't yet looked at it since her night with Sebastian. Even with all the time alone, she almost hadn't wanted to look at it. To think about what she now had to cross off. Somehow doing so had a finality now that had never existed in the past.

Slowly, she pulled the list out and arranged her quill and ink on the dressing table before her. She scanned the paper, which now had so many items crossed off and careful notes in the margins.

She dipped her quill and slowly ran through the item in Claudia's hand that read Play Faro in a Hell . What her friend would have thought, seeing her there with a pile of winnings before her and later with an angry patron on the attack. Claudia had always been shy with strangers, almost painfully so. It was a triumph to be one of the few who saw her true bubbly personality and Marianne hoped Claudia would have cheered her on in her momentary victory.

"Thanks to all the games with you, dearest," she whispered to the list and the woman who had written it.

Then she scanned lower and her breath caught. One of the last items on the long inventory was Have a Love Affair. She stared at those words, written almost accusingly now that she was trying to determine if she should check them off.

A love affair implied some matter of time shared between two people. More than one encounter, something with more formality, even if everything was done in secret. Yet Sebastian made clear with his words and his deeds that last night was the one and only time they would share such a powerful act. So an affair? It didn't feel like that was the right word.

She sighed and used her pen to edit the list. Take a Lover , she wrote to the side and then slowly crossed off the item before she waved the paper in the air to dry the ink. Taking a lover would have to do, since she had no intention of pursuing another man for something with so much more depth like an affair.

She got to her feet, checking herself in the mirror once more before she made her way to the foyer where she and Finn would greet their arriving guests for tonight's festivities. She smiled at her reflection. Thanks to Hannah's handiwork, no longer did Marianne see a matronly spinster when she looked at her reflection. She might be no great temptation to any man, but she was no longer ill-suited for her own clothing. That was a triumph of some kind, she supposed.

She stepped into the hall and made her way to the stairs where she met with Mr. Lanford coming from the guest wing of the house.

"Ah, Lady Marianne," he said as he reached her. His gaze flitted over her and he smiled. "You do look a vision."

Heat rose to her cheeks at that compliment that felt truly meant. Her mind couldn't help but shift to Sebastian's declaration that this man had an interest in her. She examined him a bit more closely as she thanked him. He wasn't terrible to look at. Not anywhere near Sebastian, of course, but who was?

"Will you escort me down?" she asked.

"I'd be honored," Lanford said, and offered his elbow to her.

She took it and felt…nothing. No spark of awareness, no tingle of attraction. That was disappointing. But perhaps something like that could grow if one tried hard enough? Wasn't that possible? Hadn't it been that way with Sebastian?

No. She had to be honest with herself if no one else. She had always been aware of Sebastian, even when she'd been too innocent to label what that connection meant. She'd always watched him and longed for him and wanted him to see her. When he did? Oh, it was like fireworks on the Thames.

"I hope we'll have a chance to dance together later, my lady," Lanford said as he released her to her brother, who was already waiting in the foyer, doors thrown open to the guests who were starting to arrive on the crushed stone drive. "Unless…unless you prefer another partner."

She blinked as she realized what he was truly asking. He wondered if she was interested in another man. And oh, how she was. But Sebastian was not a road that led to anywhere except pain. Passion, but pain. So she had to turn away, didn't she? That's what he kept telling her. Perhaps now was the best time to start.

"There is no partner in particular that I'm seeking," she said. "And I'll certainly save a spot on my dance card, Mr. Lanford. In fact, I-I look forward to it greatly."

Something lit up on his face and he gave her a slight bow. "Then I'll find you as soon as the ball begins. Good evening."

He turned and went toward the parlor where the guests would gather before supper. She found Finn watching her closely as she took her spot next to him just as the first family from the shire entered the foyer. They greeted them and a few more early comers. It wasn't for a quarter of an hour before they were alone and her brother faced her slightly.

"Are you well?" he asked gently.

She was startled by the question. Was she allowing her emotions to be so obvious? That wouldn't do. Finn was too clever, and too protective, for that.

"Of course," she said. "I'm only concerned about the gathering going well. The welcome ball is so important to your connections both in London and in the local area."

"You've never let me down, Marianne. You never could." He took her hand and squeezed gently. His expression was filled with love for her as he said, "I know this isn't always easy for you."

She blinked at tears at that admission. Finn couldn't truly understand how she felt about her position in life. He, unlike her, was golden, so he had been untouched by all the gossip caused by their past. But she appreciated the effort nonetheless. She smiled at him for assurance. "Well, perhaps one day soon you'll find some lovely young lady to make your countess and then I'll have a friend in the planning. Or she'll take over entirely."

His cheek twitched as he turned his attention back to the arriving parties. "I'm sure at some point I'll wed. Duty and all."

They refocused their attention on the increasing number of arriving guests and for a long while there was no break in their duties. When the groups began to thin, she glanced over her shoulder toward the hallway. "What do you think of Mr. Lanford, Finn?"

Finn had been staring off into the distance as if distracted, but now his attention snatched to her. "Lanford, eh?" he pressed, though his tone was noncommittal. "He escorted you down, I saw."

She nodded. "We merely bumped into each other at the top of the stairs. But we've spent a little time together since the Brighthollow ball a few weeks ago."

"Yes. I noted that." He shifted slightly. "He seems a fine enough fellow. Sebastian insisted I invite him along to shoot this afternoon and he was companionable enough."

"Sebastian did?" she said softly, wondering why he would do so when it was evident that Sebastian thought little of the man. Unless it was to keep Lanford from her. But that was silly. "Well, I'm glad to hear you have nothing bad to say about him."

Another set of guests passed through the foyer, saying their greetings, shaking hands. As they were escorted by servants to the parlor, Finn sighed. "Rather boring, though, isn't he?"

"Lanford?" She looked at him. "I would guess most people would label me the same way."

He pivoted now and faced her full on. "You? No, you are brilliant and witty and insightful."

She blinked at that sharp defense of her character. "I…thank you, Finn."

He took her hand. "Mari, if anyone thinks you are boring, they don't deserve you. And if you think they are, the same is true. You needn't ever settle. I would always take care of all your requirements so that you can retain whatever level of freedom is best for you. I'd rather do that than see you in a miserable marriage. Than see you wither on the vine like our poor mother did."

She pursed her lips. She and her brother had long ago stopped talking about their mother. About their father. Those topics were too sharp. Too painful for each of them and somehow they had never allowed themselves to lean together through that pain.

Which put her to mind of Sebastian. As much as she knew he needed her brother, Finn needed him just as much. If she loved them, as she so very much did, she couldn't separate them by demanding something from Sebastian. Not that she was bold enough to do so.

A last couple entered the foyer and they welcomed them. Then Finn nodded to their butler and said, "If there are any more late comers, escort them to the parlor. We'll take a quarter of an hour there and then be ready for supper."

"Certainly, my lord. I'll ensure the kitchen is aware and let you know if there are any issues with the timeline."

As Bentley slipped away, Finn took her arm and smiled down at her as he led her toward the parlor and its laughter and music within. "I think you and I have both been out of sorts lately due to various troubles," he said. "And I want you to swear to me one thing tonight, Marianne."

"What is that?" she asked with a smile at his light tone and playful wink.

"That you'll have fun ," he said. "You deserve that."

Then they entered the parlor where all their guests were gathered and separated to mingle amongst them. But as Marianne drifted into the crowd for the duties she never felt quite equipped for, she couldn't help but look for Sebastian and think that if she was going to truly have fun, it could only be with him.

And likely in ways her brother would never approve of.

S ebastian hadn't been able to take his eyes off Marianne all night. He tried to mask his interest, tried to continue talking to the other guests and responding when appropriate, but it felt like a losing battle. They'd been seated at opposite ends of the table at supper. That was usual, he always sat beside Delacourt at these events and Marianne took the place at the other end of the table that would one day be occupied by his friend's countess.

But tonight Sebastian had kept watching Marianne. Watching who she spoke to, whether she laughed. Did she look engaged by the gentleman to her left? Was he flirting with her?

And now, with the ball in full swing around them, he still couldn't take his eyes off of her. She hadn't missed a dance yet and she'd begun the night in the arms of Lanford. They'd smiled at each other, chatted throughout their turn, she'd laughed like the man was a talented bard.

And then she'd followed with another man and another and another. The men had become faceless, nameless to him, but Marianne had almost begun to glow. She transformed into this unreachable thing he wanted so much that he could almost feel his pulse in every part of his body.

This unreachable thing he had refused for both their sakes. She never looked at him. She never sought him out.

"You look sour, my friend," Delacourt said as he sidled up to Sebastian and handed over a drink. "I got you one that isn't watered down like the punch."

Sebastian forced a smile to his friend and sipped the offered drink. "Did I look sour? I feel nothing like it."

"Hmmm," Delacourt murmured softly. For a moment they simply stood in companionable silence and then the earl sighed. "Marianne is making another splash."

Sebastian looked toward her and tried to pretend like he hadn't noticed her. "Is she? Oh, yes, I suppose she has been dancing all night."

"Never the same partner twice and never against the wall as usual," Delacourt said. "It seems her lot is changing. I should be happy for her, and I am."

Now Sebastian faced him. "But?"

Delacourt was quiet for a long moment, his expression long as he tracked his sister. "It's been so long for her that I fear she'll settle. She asked about Lanford tonight. And if the way he watches her is any indication, the man seems to have a valid interest in her. I must believe he'll approach me with a request to court her at some point. And she'll likely agree."

Sebastian found his breath coming shorter, like he couldn't draw full air into suddenly aching lungs. "I see," he choked out. "What are your thoughts on that?"

"He seems fine enough, I suppose." Delacourt shrugged, as if resigned. "And I understand her desire to wed, to have a family, even if I think the man isn't matched to her wit by half."

Sebastian found he was nodding, like a children's toy on a spring. He couldn't stop as he looked across the room and found Marianne standing with a small group of ladies from the shire…and the very man who was the topic of Delacourt's conversation with Sebastian. Lanford stood at her side, smiling down at her as she spoke.

Sebastian wanted to vomit suddenly and he turned away. "Excuse me, Delacourt, I need a bit of air."

He strode away without waiting for his friend's response and shoved through the crowd, unable to see or hear anything around him over the rush of blood to his ears and the throb of his pulse through every tingling limb of his body.

He burst onto the terrace and gasped in a lungful of cool night air, but it changed nothing. The pressure in his chest still loomed, tension blooming through him that he didn't want to identify or name. He had no right to his feelings, not when he'd made clear to Marianne that there could be nothing between them.

And yet they were there despite that. Those feelings overwhelmed him, seemed to touch every inch of him just as she had the night before. There was jealousy, there was pain, but mostly there was grief. He grieved for something he had never had, or at least claimed he didn't want.

There was a burst of laughter from farther down the large terrace and he glanced down to find a small group of people standing together, drinking their punch and chatting. He resented their ease, that they didn't know he felt like he was being picked apart at poorly stitched seams.

He turned away from them so they wouldn't call out and force him to join their group and hustled down into the darkness away from the ballroom lights that filtered onto the terrace. There was a parlor attached to this same wide terrace and he prayed the door would be unlatched as he reached it.

To his great relief, it was, and he slipped inside into the chamber. The fires weren't lit in here, so the only light came from the beams of moonlight outside. He was just as happy. He didn't want the world to be bright when he felt this way. He just wanted to hide. Hide from his feelings, hide from himself.

He crossed to the darkened fireplace and leaned both hands on the mantel, sucking in deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. But his mind kept spinning back to what Delacourt had said in the ballroom. That Lanford, despite what he'd told Sebastian earlier in the day, was still interested in a courtship with Marianne.

And that she would allow it. Of course, it would lead to marriage if she did. Eventually she might consider what she'd done with Sebastian as merely a lark. Or worse, a regret. His stomach turned with that thought.

"Sebastian?"

He froze, his head still bent, at the sound of Marianne's voice coming from the same terrace door he'd just entered. Was he imagining her in this moment of great upset? Or was she really here? Had she followed him?

Which was worse?

He slowly lifted his head and looked across to the doors. She was standing there, gently pulling them shut behind her so that they would be alone.

He shook his head. "Why are you here, Marianne?" he asked, and hated that his voice was so rough.

"I saw you leave the ballroom," she said after a small hesitation. "You looked upset so I followed."

"You shouldn't have done that," he said.

She stepped toward him and he almost groaned but somehow managed to keep the reaction in check. "We're still friends, aren't we? I still care for you."

He choked out a pained laugh. "Despite it all, eh? Well, I doubt I've acted in a way that deserves it. I promise you, I'm well, Marianne. You should return to the party. You were clearly enjoying yourself and I'd never take that away from you."

She stared at him. He couldn't see her expression clearly in the shadows of the room, but he felt her compassion nonetheless. So often she had showered him with that over the years. Never pity. Always gentle acceptance and kindness and…and care.

She stepped closer again and reached out to take his hand. She had stripped off her gloves at some point and he rarely wore them himself, so her soft skin brushed his just as it had the night before. "I cannot bear seeing you so troubled, Sebastian," she whispered. "Please won't you tell me what brought this on?"

He smelled her in the darkness, that lemony essence that had begun to drive him wild. He wanted to drown in it in this moment. To forget that she might give herself to someone else. That it was his own fault if she did.

"If you cannot bear to see me this way," he said, his breathing harsh now, "I suggest you go."

"No," she whispered, and clung to his hand more tightly. "I won't."

He shook his head. He was swiftly losing any grip on control when she touched him, even in a benign way. When it was gone, he would let words come from his mouth that he wouldn't be able to take back. He would perhaps do things that would bring them both pleasure, but he knew now would also wash him away in greater pain later. At least until he could forget that watching her with another man tore him apart.

"Did you and my brother quarrel?" she asked. "Or did something remind you of those past hurts we discussed last night?"

He dropped his head. She was relentless. He'd always liked that about her. When she focused on a topic, it wasn't something she released until she was satisfied. And when it was a book or an artist or a piece of history, it was glorious to watch her dissect it.

It felt less so when it was him she was picking at, not realizing fully what was there to unleash.

"It's you," he finally choked out.

Her fingers loosened on his briefly, though she didn't drop his hand. She just stared up at him, shafts of moonlight making her eyes look soft and dreamy. "M-Me?" she repeated.

"Yes," he growled, and he placed the hand she wasn't holding against the bare skin of the side of her neck. He traced the line there gently and loved how she trembled with reaction to his touch, how her pulse fluttered in reaction. "You, Marianne."

"How could that be possible?" she whispered.

"Because I see you with him, with all those hims out there, and I feel this gnawing ache in me."

"Sebastian," she whispered, almost with no voice.

But he couldn't stop now. The bottle was uncorked. "I feel this tormenting desire to push you into a corner and remind you that I'm the one who made you shudder with pleasure not even twenty-four hours ago. And I hate it, Marianne. I hate feeling this way. I hate wanting to do that, needing to touch you so I can remind myself that you were mine once. So if you are as intelligent as I know you are, you'll go. Please, Marianne. Just go."