Page 32 of The Lady Was Lying
She covered her eyes with her hand and laughed weakly. Her brother was well meaning. She didn’t doubt that he wanted what was best for her, even if his delivery was awkward. “I cannot leave now. You have my word that I will do my utmost to avoid sticking my tongue down any throats if you give me your word that you will do your utmost to keep track of me.”
Sebastian winced and leaned forward slightly. “From the very first day I brought you to London, I’ve attempted to keep track of you, but I don’t have the best history of succeeding. I will certainly try to do as you ask, but I’m much better at catching you than circumventing you.”
“I’m aware.” Remembering the things he’d seen made her squirm all these years later. Anger had made her defiant, and it had taken far too long for her to understand that she wasn’t angry with Sebastian. It had taken even longer for her to accept that he cared about her. “It’ll be easier now that you have my cooperation.”
“Will it?” he asked. “You disappeared from the ball, and I was unable to locate you. Just because you went safely to your bedchamber doesn’t change the fact that you vanished. You’re very elusive when you want to be.”
Disappearing was better than the alternative. “I don’t want to be elusive anymore.” She could not stress it enough. “That’s why I’m asking for your help.”
“Did something happen?” he asked tentatively. “At the ball? Or since?”
“No.”
She could tell Sebastian about the duke and the garden. She could even tell him about the carriage or the hallway. For all his sternness, he would listen, and he already knew so many unflattering things about her that he wouldn’t be shocked. Additionally, he had dealt with enough of their mother’s indiscretions before she married Charles that he wouldn’t be terribly angry. At least not for long.
She could tell him, but he would be disappointed, and for some reason, she couldn’t contend with his disappointment alongside her own.
“If something happened, I can fix it,” he ventured. “You can always talk to me. Or to Emmeline if you’re more comfortable.”
“Nothing happened at the ball. All I did was remove myself from the temptation of bad decisions.” And nearly stumbled into a worse temptation.
“Belinda.”
“You were right when you warned me what is at stake. I didn’t fully realize it at the time, but Jane is…I don’t want to negatively affect her future.”
“I know you don’t. I didn’t mean to suggest you did. It’s kind of you to stay in order to support her. I think she misses Louisa more than she expected.”
“She does miss Louisa, but I am not Louisa,” she reminded Sebastian just like she had Jane.
The corners of his mouth turned up. “I’m aware. I simply meant that she is used to bickering with Louisa, and now that she can’t?—”
“She tries to bicker with me instead,” Belinda interrupted. It was hard enough to admit to herself that she liked being needed. She didn’t need the complication of her brother suggesting she was nothing but a substitute. Even if they both knew it was true. “Jane said she trusts me, and I don’t want to squander her trust.”
“That’s admirable. But don’t lose sight of what you require. And remember, you can return to Greydon Hall anytime you want to.”
She nodded. “Thank you, dear brother. I won’t let you down.”
She wouldn’t let anyone down.
She would be the best sister she could possibly be for as long as she possibly could.
Chapter Seven
Belinda’s resolve to stay home remained strong for nearly three hours after her family departed for the theatre. She read for a bit. Played the pianoforte rather poorly. Raided the kitchen for a bit of a nibble and thought about the quandary she’d found herself in. When it was suitably late, she got ready for bed, changing into her night rail and braiding her hair into a tight rope.
After snuffing the light, she climbed under the sheets and attempted to sleep.
It didn’t happen.
Her thoughts were a maelstrom of worry and frustration that made it impossible for her to get comfortable. How would she, who had no experience with love, help her sister find a partner?
Of all the gentlemen she’d met during her ill-fated season, not a single one seemed worthy. Perhaps she was being harsh, but out of the men she knew, only one had displayed the attributes necessary to assure he would be a commendable husband.
The Duke of Avondale.
She wanted to reject the possibility immediately, but it was impossible to do so. As much as it pained Belinda to admit, he was an excellent option. The antithesis of most gentlemen. He had shown himself to be entirely respectable and definitively marriageable.
He would be unfailingly loyal to his wife, and the fact that she had unfinished business—seductions to perform, kisses to secure—was not reason enough to dismiss him as a worthy candidate. It would be selfish to place her own foolish needs above her sister’s. Even though she had almost worn him down, the cost of kissing Jane’s future husband would be too great to try again.
