Page 20 of The Duke of Fire
Sebastian returned to his grandmother’s townhouse, his boots striking the marble floor with deliberate sharpness. He wanted the entire household to feel his approach. Let them know he was back and in no forgiving mood.
The butler bowed low, but Sebastian noticed the stiffness in the man’s shoulders, the tight line of his mouth. His presence had that effect when he was displeased.
“Where is she?” Sebastian asked curtly.
“Her Grace has gone to Gunter’s for ice, Your Grace,” the butler replied, his tone measured, but his eyes betraying the same weary dread.
“To Gunter’s?” Sebastian echoed, blinking once. “In this weather?” As more realization set in, he clenched his jaw. He did not wait for the butler’s response. “Of course, she did,” he muttered, already turning on his heel. “Who else would?”
Sebastian did not bother to wait for the butler to explain anything because the latter was already cowering from his presence. He would have the mind to talk to his grandmotherabout her choice of staff. Butlers should not be easily intimidated.
He quickly found himself back on the foggy and chilly streets of London. The temperature was unusually low for the spring; it should have been enough to make him feel the chill in his very bones. But he could barely notice the cold and the wind that exacerbated it. His mind was in turmoil.
When he stepped into Gunter’s, the warmth and sweetness of vanilla and sugared almonds assaulted him. Laughter rang out—too cheerful, too cloying. It made his skin crawl.
And then he saw them.
His grandmother, draped in crimson velvet trimmed with sable, sat regally at a round table by the window. On either side of her were none other than Cassian and Benedict, his two—nowformer—friends who had lately resembled traitors.
“Sebastian, darling! There you are,” his grandmother called brightly. “Come over here.”
He stormed over, incredulous. “You two again? With her?” Sebastian muttered, stomping toward the trio. “What are you doing here?”
“A good day to you, too,” Cassian greeted pointedly, lifting his spoon in salute. “The dowager caught us outside in this weather. She told us she needed some handsome scenery. Who are we not to oblige?”
“She wished to treat us to iced strawberry,” Benedict added, as he proceeded to finish the rest of his treat.
Sebastian gave them both a murderous glare before turning it on his grandmother, who was obviously the instigator of this littledessert sampling in foul weather. “And you? You have taken to interrogating my friends now?”
He shook his head in disbelief, while his grandmother merely turned her nose up and sniffed. She tapped her cane on the floor with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You never visit. I have to stay informed somehow. After all, what can I do as a lonely old woman? Most people come to me when they need something.”
Her eyes glittered, but not with sadness. It was something more. Knowing her, it was a sparkling intelligence. Her eyes were like orbs of chaos, always thinking of the next adventure. She often said that he was just like her.
“You could host your resurrection,” he muttered. “This time, I might attend.”
“Oh, such a spoilsport,” she huffed. “We were having such a good laugh.”
His friends nodded, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
“Blasted traitors,” Sebastian growled.
“Language, dear,” his grandmother scolded. “Now, sit. You look like you are about to challenge someone to a duel.”
He sat. Reluctantly.
“I have wanted to talk to you about your little stunt. I may not have visited you for quite some time, but I doubt it warranted faking your own death. You could have sent a letter.”
She smirked at him. “A letter? Truly? And you would have come with haste? I do not think so, dear grandson. You have been ignoring my letters for months,” she countered.
Sebastian could say nothing about that. It was true. He had not wanted to deal with anything that reminded him of his family, and his grandmother was the best example of a reminder as his only surviving relative.
“Do not pout, Sebastian,” the Dowager Duchess cackled. “We had so much fun at your expense. It is truly much better done with people whose opinions you care about.”
His twoformerbest friends, as he would now call them, echoed her laughter.
“It was the most fun I had in days. No, let’s go for months,” Cassian said, nodding vigorously.
“Oh, you are repressing it all, Cassian. It is the best we have had in years,” Benedict agreed with a wide grin. “I should add it to my list of accomplishments.”
