Chapter 9

9

Sebastian lay on his bed,his shirt off as Emma sat by his side, wiping the blood from his shoulder. The cut throbbed, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but having this woman safe and by his side. Her eyes were wide; she was probably still in shock from the events of the past hour.

He felt like he might die when he saw her in the clutches of those thugs, being dragged away.

She had run away from him. She had stolen from his mother. But what did he expect? He’d driven her to it with his abhorrent behavior. He’d made her unhappy because that was what he did.

And still, he couldn’t help but want her. How pretty she was in the homey, warm light of the burning fireplace. The green of her beautiful eyes was the color of soft moss, a blush colored her high cheekbones, and her rosy lips were slightly parted. Those lips that had felt so good and soft against him, the lips he craved to claim again.

But it wasn’t just her beauty that brought lightness into his chest. It was her. She had stood so strong and proud at the market in Clovham. And today, she had just gone through what must have been the most traumatic experience of her life, and yet here she was, not crying or whining, but calmly and efficiently taking care of him.

“Why did you do it?” he asked. “Steal? Run away?”

She stopped moving and threw a guilty glance at him. “I’m very sorry. I planned to pay you back once I found a position as a governess.”

“A governess?” he asked. “Is being my wife so terrible?”

She chuckled softly and shook her head as she took a clean bandage from the box on his night table. The light of the candle flickered and jumped as she wrapped the cloth around his shoulder. The cut throbbed, but when she touched his skin, the pain felt like it was dissolving.

She tied the wrap. “It’s done.”

She picked up the basin of bloody water and carried it to his writing desk. She moved so gracefully, so easily, her small heels knocking softly against the wooden floor and silencing when she stepped on his Persian carpet. She fit so well into his home, his life, that his heart ached. The dark teal of his bedroom walls brought out the green of her eyes. The mahogany furniture was the same color as her hair. Her new cream dress, the one that Madame Dubois had made for an exorbitant sum he was happy to pay, was the only light spot in the room, and she was like an angel in this darkness that was his life.

As he watched the fabric of her dress move over her feminine body, it occurred to him that he had never before had a woman in this bedroom. Any lovers he took he visited in their lodgings. Elysium, the club with the most expensive prostitutes in London, had nooks right in the main hall.

He never wanted to have another woman here. Just her. The thought brought a heavy, warm longing into the pit of his stomach. Because no matter how much he wanted to keep her, to make her his, she didn’t want him.

Without putting his shirt on, he stood up and went to a small round table with two chairs in front of the fireplace. Mrs. Eastbrook had sent a bottle of port and a cheese and charcuterie plate up.

“Would you like a glass?” he asked as he uncorked the bottle.

The fire was warm and pleasant on his skin…or was it her coming closer to him?

“I would,” she said, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

He poured a glass for her. The scent of sweet wine filled his nostrils. He handed her the glass and their fingers touched briefly, a jolt of fire spreading through him.

“You scared me,” he said. “You are my responsibility.”

She licked her lips and drank the port, and he did the same, sweet, tart liquid burning his mouth. “I’m sorry to have put you in danger,” she said. “I never meant for you or Jack to be hurt.”

Thankfully, Jack had regained consciousness on his way to Longton Place. He had a bump on his head, but he didn’t vomit or feel sick. He was now resting, and a physician would come first thing in the morning. Oliver and two footmen had gone to retrieve the broken carriage.

Sebastian took a seat across the table. He stretched his legs out to the black basket grate standing in the middle of the fireplace, the warmth pleasant against his bare feet.

“Do not worry about me,” he said. “This is a small price to pay for your safety. Now, you haven’t told me the truth about yourself. Who are you really? And why did your husband sell you?”

He poured her another glass of port.

“Sir Jasper Bardsley is a baronet in Bedfordshire,” she said. “We’ve been married for about a year.”

The thought of that man, Sir Jasper, being her husband stabbed him through the chest like a fencing sword. He hated the thought of her belonging to anyone but him.

“Right,” he said and threw back the port without tasting it. “Why the sale?”

“We’re very ill-suited, he and I,” she said. “I never loved him. I suppose love is not a requirement for marriage. And perhaps it’s silly, given there are so many loveless marriages, but I always dreamed of being madly in love with my husband. I never felt much for Sir Jasper, but hoped I’d learn to be fond of him.” She sipped her wine and put the glass back on the table. “But I never could love a man that attempts to control me. That suffocates me. He even sent those thugs to get me back.”

Sebastian’s fingers tightened around the thin stem of the glass, the decorative cut edges digging into his skin. Sir Jasper suffocated her? Tried to control her? Sebastian could easily believe that, seeing the absurd behavior of the man at the market square. But Sebastian should also acknowledge his own fault. Hadn’t he behaved just like Sir Jasper earlier tonight? Guilt weighed heavily in his chest.

“I stopped allowing him into my bed months ago. The thought of him touching me became repulsive after a while. The sale…it was his way of teaching me a lesson. Trying to humiliate me, scare me, bully me into obedience.”

“What a pathetic little man,” said Sebastian. “You did not see any sign of it before the wedding?”

“No. He can be very charming when you first meet him, and I was so hopeful and naive. I couldn’t imagine he could be so… I married him out of obligation to my family. He was supposed to give my father some land that would save my parents financially and open up better marriage prospects for my three younger sisters who had no dowry at all.”

“You are right, there are many loveless matches. I’m sure had my parents had a chance to sell each other at some sort of a husband or wife sale, they’d have done it.”

“Why? Was their marriage as bad as mine, Duke?”

“Please, call me Sebastian.”

She gave him one of her bright smiles, which felt like sunshine on his face. “Then you should call me Emma.”

Sebastian nodded, something warm blooming in his chest. Emma…what a gorgeous, sweet name. Like her.

“And their marriage…” he said. “Yes. I daresay. I was an obligation for my mother, to give my father an heir. They didn’t even manage to get a spare. They cheated on each other constantly. That would be reason for divorce, but getting a divorce would take years. It would be very expensive, as well. But God knows Papa had a big enough fortune. I suppose, neither Mama nor Papa wanted the humiliation of the gossip papers covering every detail so publicly.”

“Oh yes,” said Emma. “The Criminal Conversation gazette. Some people live for it.”

Sebastian nodded. “So they didn’t get divorced. And I don’t think I met two people who despised each other as much as they did. And I was at fault.”

She frowned and sat straighter. “What are you talking about, Sebastian?”

Hearing his name on her lips was like tasting honey. He cleared his throat, his chest too tight. Talking about his painful childhood, the misery of being responsible for the failed marriage of his mama and papa… He’d never told this to anyone, not even to Preston.

“I was a naughty little boy. I always cried for their attention, breaking things, running away, refusing to learn Latin and French or read Shakespeare. And when they scolded me, at least they knew I existed.”

“That doesn’t mean they were unhappy because of you.”

“But they were. They were angry with me. Unhappy with me. But it wasn’t until I was eight years old that everything really fell apart.

“It was right here, in Longton Place, that I saw a lady visiting Papa several times. Without thinking anything of it, I asked who the lady in the purple pelisse was that visited Papa so often and whom Papa liked to hug. Was she a relative I didn’t know about?”

He chuckled, pain radiating through his whole chest like a wound. “I just remember color leaving Mama’s face. Her hands shook so violently she spilled her wine. Slowly, she stood up and walked out of the sitting room. I knew then that I had done something terribly, terribly wrong. I ran after her, calling her, but I couldn’t find her. And then my parents’ shouts rang through the house.”

He met Emma’s big green eyes that watched him with such empathy and understanding that his throat clenched. She didn’t judge him. Didn’t proclaim him at fault. She just listened. She understood; he knew that. Warmth spilled through him.

“After that,” he continued, “they became even more preoccupied with their own lives, and I always felt lonely. I do not know if the lady in the purple pelisse was his lover or not, but after that, Papa had several affairs that he didn’t bother hiding. He even went to balls and social evenings with his lovers. Mama took lovers of her own, and, as I heard later, she had had at least one miscarriage, and everyone knew they weren’t of my father.”

“Oh, Sebastian.” She reached out across the table and covered his hand with hers. It was so warm and soft and delicate, and comfort spread through his veins at her touch. “You were a child. None of that was your fault.”

Sebastian sighed deeply and stared into the flame of the candle on the table.

“Look at me and Sir Bardsley. I’m glad I haven’t had his child yet. And even if I had, nothing the child would have done would make Sir Bardsley and me any more compatible with each other. Our marriage is pointless. I married him so that he’d give Papa land and income, but later on I found out that he sold the land before he signed the contract.”

Sebastian sat straight up in his chair. “He promised your father land that had already been sold and was not his to give?”

Emma sighed. “Indeed. It’s farmland with some cottages called Charing Fields. I remember the name from the contract. And then Sir Jasper was quite drunk during a dinner party at Bardsley House and boasted about what a good price he got for it two years ago.”

“Emma, do you understand that this is called fraud?”

“Is it? No, I hadn’t realized.”

“And it is a legally accepted reason to annul your marriage.”

She went very, very still. “Do not jest with me, please.”

“I am not jesting. Annulment of marriage is rather quick. And it’s possible on the basis of fraud.”

His whole body tingled. Her eyes widened, and she turned to face him, her knuckles going white where she clutched the chair arms.

“I dare not hope…” she said, a smile blossoming on her face.

“Would you like to be free of your marriage?” he asked.

To marry me, to really be my wife, he added in his head.

“Would I…” she said. “Of course I would!”

“Then I’ll help you, if you wish me to. But we’ll need proof. The marriage contract itself. And the deed of sale of the land.”

“I can do that. My father has a copy of the contract. And the deed of sale…is it not registered somewhere?”

“I’ll talk to my solicitor.” He chuckled softly. “You said you wanted a marriage for love. You should not be in an unhappy one. I never knew sentiment was possible between a husband and a wife at all as I couldn’t say what it felt like. And I never imagined I’d be wed.” He looked at her and their eyes met and locked. “Until you.”

“Sebastian…” she whispered. “Your parents may not have appreciated each other, but they should have shown you the affection you deserve. I, for one, think you are a kind and wonderful man who is very much capable of making a woman happy.”

Making a woman happy… The words, coming from her mouth…he was speechless. Dumbstruck. A warmth was born and radiated in the middle of his chest. If he were capable of love, she was the only one he could imagine giving his heart to or marrying. But he didn’t want to force her to be tied to him as Sir Jasper had.

Instead, he’d show her what it would be like if they were really married. How life with him would be. He’d bring her pleasure in all the poses in the world. He’d show her how much he adored and wanted her.

“I will protect you, Emma. That is final.”

He stood up and slowly walked to her. Then he dropped to his knees in front of her and laid his hands on her thighs. She blinked, her eyes big and glistening in the firelight.

“I’ll set you free,” he said, then took her face in his hands and kissed her.