Page 66 of The Duke of Fire
Finally, he wrote what he needed to write. He stared at the letter until the words blurred. Then, he tugged at the bellpull.
Even though it was late, his butler came rushing not too long after he summoned him. He seemed to have dressed quickly, even though it was not a usual occurrence in his household. He did not like disturbing his staff’s rest.
“Your Grace? Are you all right?” the butler asked, looking deeply concerned. Sebastian imagined that he looked sick, and he did feel like it. The butler glanced at the hearth and made assumptions. “Shall I bring more wood for the fire?”
“No,” he said, his voice sounding a little hoarse. “I am going out to deliver a letter. I just need someone to know.”
“At this hour, Your Grace? Would you not want Samuel and Edward to perform the task for you?”
“At this hour,” he confirmed. “Please have Samuel prepare the carriage.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler said with a small bow.
Soon, Sebastian was in the carriage on his way to the Warton home. He should have been in bed. Or drunk. Or in someone else’s bed. But he was not. He had broken so many of his own rules lately that he could no longer remember what the rules were.
She ruined me. Or maybe… she rebuilt something I never knew was broken.
Tonight, he would not command. He would not seduce, tease, or chase. Tonight, he would ask. And if she came willingly… then perhaps she was not just his undoing.
Perhaps she was his only chance at being whole.
“Good evening or morning, whichever it is,” Sebastian greeted the Warton butler, who looked pale and startled to see the Duke of Firaine on their doorstep.
It would have been enough of a shock to see a duke knocking at anyone’s door, but to do it an hour past midnight was outrageous.
“Good… good morning, Your Grace. How can I help you at this time? A…are you in trouble?”
“I would like to speak with Miss Warton,” he said simply, not raising his voice. He did not put on any airs, either. He did not need all those. People listened to him and let him in just because he was a duke.
“Miss Warton is abed, Your Grace,” the butler said. Then, with a little more cheek, added, “hours ago.”
Sebastian reminded himself that he was not going to demand anything tonight. He would ask. So, he gave the butler his letter, the one that took thirteen drafts to finish.
“Please give her this,” he said.
The butler quickly took something from the table in the foyer—a silver tray. Then, he placed the letter on it.
“I will, Your Grace,” he responded respectfully, although he still looked bewildered.
Then, Sebastian lingered. He took the little ribbon from the shrine he had made for Amelia. It was one of hers, from that night he had asked her to go into the tub. He had been keeping it in his waistcoat, thrilled at the thought that he had something of hers so close to him without anyone knowing. Now, he put it on the tray with the letter. He was returning it to her, just as he wanted her to return to him.
A little secret.
So secret that even Amelia did not know about it.
Sebastian stepped back into the street, into the chilly air. At least, he was able to do what he set out to do.
Chapter 25
“Amelia!”
Amelia was used to Octavia screaming for her at all hours of the day and night, but Finch rarely ever called for her. Yes, whenever he did, he would sound exasperated. This time was different. He seemed enraged.
She startled when she heard him yelling for her, like a man about to challenge someone to a duel because the other had stolen his wife. Her quill trembled, blotting ink all over her parchment. She cursed softly, but her heart still pounded as she wondered what she had done wrong this time.
One thing was certain. She did not want Finch to see what she was working on. She pushed the paper aside just as her brother barged into her bedchamber.
“What are you doing?” he bellowed, as his furious eyes darted left and right, and all around.
