Page 52 of The Duke of Fire
“We were expecting you earlier than this,” Cassian complained. “Were you traipsing about in your gardens, looking for flowers to put together for a bouquet for Miss Warton?”
Sebastian threw him a warning glare.
“While it is not your business, I was with my grandmother.”
The two burst into laughter at that. “Finally, the dowager is getting what she wants, but from someone whose mind was occupied by someone else. I hope your grandmother will not be unhappy about being used as an excuse.”
“All right, then. I was detained. Partially by my grandmother.”
“And partially by the curve of Miss Warton’s neck, no doubt,” Benedict retorted.
“You have no business thinking of her neck!” Sebastian snapped as he flung himself onto an armchair, already exhausted from the back and forth.
“You must admit it is very amusing,” Cassian commented. “You are brooding and short-tempered with everyone, without even having kissed the woman properly. That is remarkable for someone like you, Sebastian.”
Normally, Sebastian would have argued about that, but he did not want them to know the details of his interactions with Amelia. Let them think that he had never kissed her. He had kissed her lips and the rest of her body just fine. It was merely the final act that he had not dared to do.
Amelia was still hoping for marriage. Bedding her would completely ruin her, although he knew that he had somehow done that already.
“Remarkable? Perhaps not. You are obsessed, Sebastian,” Benedict muttered, still finalizing his lists. “Clearly smitten.”
“I am not smitten,” Sebastian gritted out.
“Oh, dear me,” Cassian said. “That sounds like classic denial. Often from a man in love.”
Sebastian sighed, took his glass of brandy, and downed the contents in one gulp.
“It is more likely intrigue, not love. It is the thrill of the chase, especially after someone who is not like most of the women I have been with. I would have already lost interest in her after one night.”
“But you have not lost interest in her. That is why we are here.”
“That proves nothing. I cannot bed every woman I meet. My grandmother is helping her with her Season.”
Sebastian did not want to say that desire battled with his conscience. He wanted to claim her, but he also wanted to take care of her. He found it strange that he wanted her to follow her dreams, which included having a loving husband, wonderful children, and enough wealth to keep her comfortable and independent.
“You know what this proves?” Benedict asked, finally putting down his pen. “It proves that you want to prolong the inevitable because you are afraid you will lose whatever you have now. You have grown to care for her.”
“Well, too bad, then,” Sebastian muttered. “Because I do not believe in love and do not believe in marriage.”
“She does,” Cassian said, flinging back the truth at him.
It hit hard, but his friends did not want to let him forget. Benedict also had something to say.
“Miss Warton wants and needs a home. She would thrive in one with a garden, a library, and a nursery for her children. You cannot give that to her, not because you are poor. You are the opposite, but you will not.”
“I know,” Sebastian admitted, hanging his head.
Of course, he knew. He had deliberated about it. It stopped him from claiming her completely, something he initially thought would be easy for him to do.
“What are you doing, then?” Cassian demanded. “You cannot play with her until she breaks. Miss Warton seems like a decent young woman who just happens to be in the wrong family.”
What I am doing is that she is in my head from the moment I wake up to the moment I sleep.
“You have not met anyone like her. Someone who could do all that to you,” Cassian observed.
“I cannot claim Miss Warton. I am not the man she needs in her life.”
“That does not stop you from wanting her, or wanting her to want you,” Benedict said, as he drank his brandy.
