Page 80 of The Duke of Fire
“Money?” he echoed.“You cannot be serious.”
He could not believe that part of the arrangement had come crashing back to him. Yes, this was supposed to be transactional. She would get something from his help, and he would get something, too. But he thought that after what happened, after the things they had gone through, the transactional part had been discarded.
Was that why she was so certain she would go through with it?
“I am. Money and a carriage for tomorrow morning,” she said, still avoiding his gaze. “You have done enough—Almack’s, the dresses, even that meeting with Mr. Carlton,” she listed, her voice growing more agitated. But then, she took a deep breath and gave him a small smile. It did not reach her eyes. “But I want to leave. That had always been my plan. You knew that. I just did not have the means before.”
His breath hissed between his teeth as he ran both hands through his hair. He was still naked. Still warm from her. Still inside the afterglow of something that had felt real. Meaningful.
“You cannot leave now.”
“Why can’t I? Remember that our arrangement was all about me earning my freedom? We were certain about the path, and now the end of the road has come. I have earned what you promised me. You have had the novelty, a different experience that you have always been striving for.”
Sebastian stood. “After what we just shared, do you truly believe I will justletyou walk away?”
Amelia held her ground, but he saw it—the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Of pain.
“There is nothing left for me here,” she said quietly. “Even my brother’s kindness was fake. This life, this world—it is not mine. And you…” she stopped, her voice catching. Then, suddenly, she looked up at him, eyes burning. “Would you marry me?”
The question hung for a moment, catching him by surprise. He had never gotten close to even thinking of the possibility of marriage. Like Amelia, he wanted escape, too, and marriage had always felt like a prison.
“Would you?” she asked again. Her voice cracked.
His mouth opened, but before he could say anything at all, there was a sharp knock on the door. Both of them flinched. Sebastian swore softly while quickly dressing himself. It was probably the fastest he had ever put on his clothes, and he had been in several compromising positions before.
Tonight was different. He was not saving his reputation. He was saving hers. Whatever was left of it.
“Stay there,” he murmured, as he strode toward the door.
Benedict stood by the doorway, looking just as disheveled. Sebastian thought that at least people would not wonder about his state of dress. He was already looking fully inebriated earlier.
“They are looking for you,” his friend said. Then, his eyes knowingly wandered to the spot behind him. “Both of you.”
“Who is looking for us?” Sebastian asked.
“Take your pick. Gossips. Busybodies. Your grandmother. Finch and his friends. The wholeton,” Benedict replied with a shrug. “Some people are already looking for you. We cannot have people see you together. The scandal will be wild, but there are already rumors.”
“We will deal with it,” Sebastian said, a new resolve forming within him. “Come inside before someone sees you lingering out there.”
His friend complied, bloodshot and rumpled, but fully alert. They listened for footsteps, and when the corridor had cleared, they left the room.
He did not remember how he made it home. What he knew was that his throat burned with more whiskey and brandy than he had ever taken in one night. His only solace was that, for once, he might have managed to tamp down the gossip for Amelia’s sake. The Duke of Firaine, they would say, looked absolutely wrecked—too wrecked for pleasure. Surely he could not have just come from some woman’s bed.
His friends remained with him, alarmed by his new wave of self-destruction.
Benedict finally snapped. “That’s enough, Sebastian,” he said, snatching the next glass from his hand. “Are you trying to kill yourself tonight?”
“If he wants to die, let him,” Cassian said snidely.
Sebastian, looking like he had rolled all over the streets, slumped his back hard on the couch. “She is leaving tomorrow, Cassian. Tomorrow. She will not be coming back.”
Cassian exhaled, his arms crossed. “And whose fault is that, hmm?”
“I do not know what your problem is,” Benedict muttered. “Stop her and tell her you love her.”
Sebastian gave a hollow laugh. “You say that like it is nothing.”
“It is not nothing,” Benedict replied. “It iseverything.You love her. She loves you. You both know it, we all know it, and yet here you are—too proud, too scared, too bloodystupidto go after her.”
