Page 65 of The Duke of Fire
“Oh. Aren’t we getting any stories from you this time? If I had to publish a book about your past adventures, I would probably have several new volumes in my library,” Benedict declared in a monotone.
“You see? Miss Wartonisspecial,” Cassian declared knowingly.
“Do you think so? She has disobeyed me many times,” Sebastian complained, although his blood ran hot again when he remembered what they did in the green drawing room moments ago.
“I approve of anyone, man or woman, who refuses to be commanded unless in the line of duty,” Cassian said, his eyes falling on Amelia.
“She is more impressive than I thought she would be,” Benedict admitted, folding his arms across his chest. “You see what has been happening? Because of her, you have not had a mistress in weeks. Unless you have started hiding more things from us.”
Sebastian frowned.
“I hope you have apologized for some of your behavior. I imagine you have been acting arrogantly,” Benedict advised. “Bringing an innocent toThe Arrangement? I do not even know what you were thinking.”
“Enough,” Sebastian said.
“For telling her that you are only ever there for companionship but demanding she sees you when she retreats from society,” Benedict continued, “and ignoring the fact that she may not be there for you if you are not willing to take her seriously and give her a home one day.”
Sebastian stopped himself from replying. He knew that the exchange would only go back and forth. So, he merely brought his attention back to Amelia and her dance partner. The pink-cheeked young man finally returned her to Miss Serenity. He took too long. Sebastian seethed, but knew he could not do anything but watch.
So, he left before doing anything they would both regret.
Chapter 24
Sebastian went home earlier than he usually did, not that attending balls was usual for him. He would have normally slinked into a brothel or a gentleman’s club, trying to keep the loneliness at bay.
For that was what it was, wasn’t it? All the skirt chasing in his life was all about trying to rid himself of the loneliness that lingered within him. So, when he went home, alone, but without even the distraction of Cassian and Benedict, he could not sleep.
Midnight had arrived, and the library hearth’s fire had begun dying, but he was still there. Another bottle of whiskey stood near, half-empty. Sebastian sat with his feet raised on the table, his hands behind his head. His shirt was unlaced, supposedly to retire for the night, but his mind could not rest.
A letter was in his hand. He had written her name on top. It was not his usual perfect penmanship, the one that he used for invitations and missives. He wrote three sentences for her, but he soon crossed some of the words out. If anyone would look at the letter, they would think that he had gone insane, and perhaps they were right. The battle in his mind reflected onpaper.
When he squeezed his eyes shut, he descended into a spirit-fueled delirium of seeing her standing there in the room.
“Tell me your dream, Amelia. Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere but here, Your Grace,” she replied softly.
Even in his fever dream, she did not like saying his name. Yet, when he walked closer, she did not back away. Soon, the background changed, and they were within the world ofThe Arrangement. Behind her, several feet away, as if the room had become much larger, were the men and women in masks.He groaned as reality blended with his dream. Bleary-eyed, he saw himself back in his library.
“What is happening to me?” he asked as he pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead.
Sebastian startled himself into a proper sitting position. Then, he crumpled the mess of a letter and threw it on his table, with several more balls of paper.
He took a deep breath and rested his quill.
Sebastian had never really given himself a chance to think. He was always flitting from one thing to another. But now, in the silence of this godforsaken night, he felt caged. So, he paced his room. They were so close to finally talking about what was really happening between them.
She was haunting him. He needed to stop drinking, get some sleep, and think about all of these when he woke up in the morning. He crossed to the mantel, which had become more of a shrine to Amelia—the brush he had used on her hair after he had bathed her. Her translations rested there, too; the most preciousmanuscript he had. A ribbon she had left behind.
She should not matter this much.
But she did.
Throughout his life, Sebastian had vowed not to seek anyone or anything. They must come to him. People did not know that the Duke of Firaine was afraid of rejection. They thought he had everything.
He had sat down to write Amelia another letter. This time, he would tell her that he wanted her. Pride would have him saying those words like a command when he wanted to beg. Yes, that was what he truly wanted to do.
The duke decided that staying in his study was futile. He was there, suffering from so many emotions—sadness, regret, lust, and frustration. Something else niggled in his brain, something that must be named, but he did not dare acknowledge.
