Page 41 of Sinful Persuasion of a Lady in the Making
“But that is not the point. The point is, Miss Jones did not return the handkerchief.”
“She stole it?” Diana said surprised, and Sebastian tutted loudly.
“Not that either, Diana. What I am saying is that for the handkerchief to be here, Miss Jones must have been here. What are you not telling me, Sister?”
“Oh, all right, if you insist,” Diana said, sitting up straighter and with a scowl on her face. “She was here, yes. She came to return it.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Sebastian said, raising from his chair and picking up the handkerchief. He held it to his mouth briefly, as though in kissing it, he would be kissing her.
“The truth is,” Diana said with a sigh, “Miss Jones specifically requested I do not tell you.”
“Why on earth would she do that?” He stared at his sister, unsure at her words.
“Because—and I’m sorry, Sebastian, I really am—but she said she does not wish to see you again. Ever.”
“She… she said that?” His gut twisted painfully as he stared at his grinning sister.
“Yes,” Diana said. “Yes, she did.”
“And that’s why you are so happy?” he asked, wanting to scream at her.
“Don’t talk nonsense, Sebastian,” she said in mock outrage. “I am hurtforyou. But you must respect her wishes, if you are to be any sort of a gentleman.”
“Goodness, Diana,” he said, letting the handkerchief fall back down to the table. “You really have outdone yourself this time.”
“What have I done?” she screeched, raising a hand to her chest.
“Taken pleasure in my misery, if nothing else,” he said, and stormed angrily out of the room.
He stalked to his chambers, the heaviness of his footsteps ringing out his displeasure through the corridors, and he sensed the servants hiding, not wanting to be at the end of his wrath.
Miss Jones!
Thinking of her sent shooting pains through his body. He wanted, more than anything in the world, to see her again, and she had shunned him. She had told Diana the worst thing he could possibly hear, yet just her presence the evening before had sent him spinning wildly.
And then there was his sister herself, who seemed to delight in drama, in the turmoil and unhappiness. How he wished he could make Diana see the pain she was causing.
He sat on the edge of his bed, doing nothing, saying nothing, merely thinking through everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. His life had gone from a simple one, full of booze and gambling, to a far more complex one with hints of love that were being batted away at every opportunity. He groaned into his hands.
“Sebastian Nicholes, what is the matter with you?” he asked of himself, his words angry.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and decided he needed to visit Miss Jones, regardless of what Diana had said. She must have got it wrong, somehow, or perhaps Miss Jones did not trust how Sebastian felt. After all, had she not experienced the brutish side of the gentry firsthand?
Yes, I’ll visit her as soon as I have bathed.
* * *
“My Lord,” the footman said, opening the door to the carriage once they had arrived.
Sebastian stepped out onto the cobbled street and looked up at the townhouse he knew to be her home. He did not care for propriety nor for the foibles of the ruling classes. He had no interest in wealth and who had what. But that the house was well looked after meant that she, too, would be well cared for, and that brought about in him a sense of peace.
He climbed the four steps up to the door, and he knocked with a confidence he wasn’t entirely sure he felt.
It was Lady Alison herself who answered the door, and Sebastian took a step back, momentarily silenced by his surprise. He had expected a butler, or a maid of all work at least. But he instantly felt guilty when he saw she had read his expression.
“Good afternoon, Lord Hartwood,” she said.
“I… yes, of course. Good afternoon, Lady Alison,” he said. “Is Miss Jones available? I have her shawl, you see, and—”
