Page 57 of Passion Painted in a Lady's Heart
It was not a thought Sebastian wished to entertain. His stepmother had always been good to him, after a fashion. They had not always seen eye to eye, but there had been a tolerance between them, one Sebastian did not want to think had been betrayed.
“I…I don’t know,” Sebastian replied, and now he explained the strange circumstances of his uncle’s arrival.
John listened, narrowing his eyes, and when Sebastian had finished his explanation, he shook his head.
“You can’t trust him, can you? Your father didn’t. It’s strange to think of him returning so suddenly, and just when all this starts to happen. Perhaps your stepmother doesn’t know anything about it, either. It would be an easy enough thing for him to do. Small signs, little changes, just enough to make you think something was wrong,” John said, and Sebastian nodded.
It was a terrible thought, but not beyond the realm of possibility, and Sebastian was not so naïve as to think his uncle’s presence was for purely altruistic intentions. But as for this, it was too terrible to comprehend, and Sebastian could not bear to believe it, even as the evidence suggested otherwise.
“You’re right, but I can’t accuse him, can I? Perhaps I have forgotten things, the other things, I mean. It’s possible, though. Oh, I don’t know. But I know for certain I couldn’t have written that note, and if I couldn’t have written the note, perhaps I didn’t alter the painting, or lose the cigar case, or forget the other things. Perhaps I’m not mad,” he said, and John laughed.
“I know you’re not. And because you’re not, I want you to think seriously about Rosalind. Elizabeth tells me she’s desperately unhappy. You can see it in her eyes. She doesn’t want to marry the Duke of Northridge. But when she’s with you, it’s as though something changes. The sadness grows less, replaced by joy,” he said.
The thought had been on Sebastian’s mind, too. If he was not seized by madness, and in his heart, he did not believe himself to be, then the possibility of romance, of thinking beyond the inevitable, was within his grasp.
“But what choice does she have?” Sebastian asked, for it seemed certain the Duke and Duchess of Lonsdale would favor Richard, whatever Sebastian’s own circumstance might be.
“Make the choice yourself, Sebastian. No longer the mad earl, but the prospective son-in-law. You and Rosalind, you’re made for one another. Any fool can see that. But her parents are fixated on the idea of her marrying that awful man. Change their mind, before it’s too late,” John replied.
Apart from worrying over his apparent madness, Sebastian had thought of little else but Rosalind. He had feared Lady Helena’s words, and the rumors of the ton, would serve only to make her wary of him, even as it appeared Rosalind was more than capable of deciding for herself with whom she wished to associate.
Their time at Somerset House, and at Gunter’s, had been a delight, and Sebastian had never felt such strength of feeling for any woman before. He was falling in love with her, but thoughts of what was to come had held him back, even as it seemed a glimmer of hope had now appeared.
“You’re right. I do have feelings for her. Very strong feelings. But, I don’t know… it wouldn’t work. Not with him breathing down her neck,” Sebastian said, but his friend shook his head.
“It’s not a certainty, Sebastian. There’s still time. Seize the opportunity at the midsummer soiree at Thornbury House. She’ll be there, and so will Elizabeth. I’m going to ask her to marry me,” John said, and Sebastian stared at his friend in astonishment.
He knew John’s feelings for Elizabeth had developed rapidly, and there was no doubting her charm or their shared pleasure in one another’s company. But Sebastian was surprised at the thought of his friend’s intention to ask her to marry him.
“Really? Have you thought this through?” he asked, and John laughed.
“Unlike you, Sebastian, I don’t overthink these things. I’ve fallen in love with her. And I’m quite certain she’s fallen in love with me. She’s certainly shown it,” he said, raising his eyebrows and grinning.
Sebastian was happy for his friend, but the intention of his engagement brought with it a sense of his own failings. John was right, he did overthink things, and he had spent so much time convincing himself of all the reasons why he should not seek a courtship with Rosalind, he was almost persuaded of it.
“I’m very happy for you, John,” he said, and his friend smiled.
“Anyway, enough about such things. I’ve been thinking. Perhaps the two of us should get out of London for a few days? We could go to Norfolk, to your holdings there, or to Bath, perhaps. What do you say?” he asked.
Sebastian told him he would think about it, but he had been toying with the idea himself. London could feel overbearing, even as Sebastian wanted to remain close to Rosalind. But his own inaction was frustrating, and given the realization of what was happening to him, of the possibility someone was trying to make him believe he was going mad, the thought of leaving the capital was attractive.
“It might prove I’m not forgetting anything,” Sebastian said to himself as he made his way home that afternoon.
Seeing John had done him good, and he returned to Southbourne House with a clear head, convinced the things he had thought himself to have forgotten were illusions, even as others might say differently.
As he arrived home, he found his stepmother and uncle sitting in the garden, talking in hushed voices. At his appearance on the steps, they both looked up, glancing at once another, as Sebastian approached.
“Oh, there you are, Sebastian. We thought you had disappeared,” Lady Soutbourne said, a smile coming over her face.
“No… I…went to see John,” Sebastian replied, and his stepmother nodded.
“Why don’t you go and rest, Sebastian? You know what the doctor said,” she replied, but Sebastian shook his head.
“No. I think I’ll go upstairs and paint. John was suggesting the two of us get out of London for a while. Maybe go to Norfolk or Bath. Oh, by the way, Mr. Gerard knew nothing about the meeting, until he received my note, but I couldn’t have written the note. I wasn’t here to do so,” Sebastian said.
His stepmother looked at him in surprise, and his uncle cleared his throat, caught out, it seemed, by Sebastian’s words.
“Really? He must’ve been confused. These land agents deal with so many properties,” he said, but Sebastian shook his head.
