Page 75 of My Deceitful Duchess
“It reeks of condescension,” he said, and there was a scowl turning down his mouth. “I’ve read it in those romantic novels, and I hate it. It’s the same as saying that you could not do any better than myself, when God knows you certainly could. But I will tell you instead that I will love youbest—the very best of which I am capable, every day.” He faltered, his chin dropping. “Which may not be worth a great deal to you, now that I reflect upon it. But it is your regardless.”
“I did not ask for it.”
“You never had to ask. It is yours without asking. It is yours whether or not you want it. As am I.” It hadcosthim something to say that, she realized. Not pride, not shame, for he claimed neither of those things. Buthope, she thought. He had surrendered all of his hope into her hands, and she could so easily crush it. And if she did, then he would accept it.
And still be hers. Hers without any hope. Hers without her love. Hers, whether she wanted him or not.
“You have asked me for nothing,” he said. “But you could. Jenny, if you asked me for the moon, I would find a way to get it for you.”
The stone pressed against the flesh of her hand, and it should have been cold—but itburnedher instead. A brand laid against her skin; a gem imbued with the strength of every emotion that had ever seared between them. The good and the bad—but it was up to her what todowith them, which she would let win out.
∞∞∞
Though Jenny had doubtless been awake only a few hours, it became obvious to Sebastion soon after she had eaten the toast he had prepared for her that she was ready once again to close her eyes for a spell and rest. She blinked, in that way of those called off to dreaming, long and slow.
“You don’t have to stay,” he found himself saying, cradling her hand in his—the one with the ring she had slipped on while he had been occupied scrounging up some toast for her.
A yawn, stifled just barely with the back of her free hand. “I promised.”
“I will not hold you to it.” For now, this was enough—just to hold her hand in his for a few moments. “I was wrong to ask it of you. Wrong to make demands of you. Jenny, I want so much more than fourteen percent. And I deserve so much less.”
“Iamtired,” she said reluctantly. “Ever so much more just lately. Lottie was the same way.”
And he was certain he had been responsible for her lack of sleep, for the extra burden of stress and restlessness she carried. “Then you should be abed,” he said. “You have few enough free hours. I will not command them.”
“I don’t want to go.” She blurted out the words in a rush, as if she had surprised herself with them. “I don’t want to go,” she repeated, and this time it was soft and slow, and it came out like an admission. Like a secret she had hidden even from herself.
“Jenny?”
“I don’t want to go,” she said again. “I want to stay here. With Charlie.” She placed her hand on the space between Charlie’s ears and rubbed. “With you.” A brief hesitation. “Just…just for tonight.”
“All right. Should you like me to sleep on the couch?”
A soft shake of her head. Her fingers curled into his, nestling within his grasp. She chewed her lower lip, her brows drawn into that expression that he had learned meant she was experiencing some internal conflict which she had not chosen to share with him.
“Jenny, whatever you wish of me, my answer is yes. But I need you to tell me. I don’t want to misunderstand you.” His thumb rubbed over the smooth surface of the star sapphire there where it rested upon her finger.
“I want to go to bed,” she said. “Like we used to. I don’t—I don’t sleep very well lately.”
“Nightmares?”
She shrugged. “I think I grew accustomed to not sleeping alone.”
Becausehehad been there to hold her—or even just to guard her dreams while she slept. “You don’t have to. If it’s what you want, you don’t have to sleep alone.”Ever, he meant, though she had been clearheaded enough to specify just one night.
Her hand slipped from his; Charlie followed straight on her heels as she headed for the stairs. “I need you to undo my buttons,” she said, and it felt like a dissembling, a lessening of the magnitude of what she had requested of him, and what it might mean. As if she felt thatshehad weakened herself before him.
But she held perfectly still as he worked free the tiny buttons that traipsed up and down her back, and he wondered if this particular dress had been intended as a sort of armor for her. The sort she would need help to remove, and thus one extra layer against him, since he doubted very much that she had been much inclined to ask for his assistance before now.
The lacing of her stays fell away, as did her petticoats. “I can do the rest,” she said, and in the low light of the lamp, her skin glowed through the thin linen of her chemise. And she patted one hand upon the bed as she sat to remove her shoes and her stockings. Charlie catapulted himself up beside her, wedging his snout onto her shoulder.
As he turned his back to remove his coat, he heard the whisk of her chemise over her head, heard it sail through the air to land near her discarded gown. There was the rustle of bedclothes, and the plod of an eager little body scampering across the bed. She whispered, “Charlie. Settle.”
They were curled there on one side of the bed, leaving ample room for him. Her blond hair spread across the pillow like silk. One bare arm emerging from beneath the covers, her hand stroking Charlie’s wiry fur.
Sebastian extinguished the lamp, removing the last of his clothes in the darkness. It was the deep, enveloping sort. The sort that was thick and heavy, and it wove round the both of them.
As he slipped into bed, her voice, soft and low, pierced the veil of shadows that lay between them. “Could you be satisfied with fourteen percent?”
