Page 15 of His Mad Duchess
Sebastian didn’t so much as blink at her. “I am here to propose marriage.”
The word marriage hung between them—too large for the walls to hold.
Beatrice actually staggered a step. Aunt Agnes pressed a hand to her chest like she needed air. Cecily made a noise between a gasp and a laugh.
Of all the things she had thought he’d offer as help, never in a million years did she think marriage would be part of it. Margaret’s mouth went dry. She shook her head a fraction, voice rough. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I do,” Sebastian said. Calm. Certain. “I will not be the man who destroys a lady’s name to save my own.”
“It was an accident!” Margaret’s hands fluttered helplessly at her sides. “It’s not your burden to?—”
“It is now,” he cut in, not unkindly but final, too final for her panic to find space to breathe. “I know what they saw. And I know how people speak. If you think I’d leave you to their teeth, you mistake me.”
Beatrice found her voice first, and it could only come out sharp and frantic. “Your Grace, we are deeply grateful for your honor, truly, but surely we can settle this more discreetly. There must be?—”
“There is no discreet path left,” Sebastian said. Still, that calm, that subtle edge of iron under velvet. “The only path now is marriage. It will silence every whisper worth silencing.”
Margaret barked a laugh that cracked. “Silence them? Or hand them a new story—the girl who trapped a duke in the library?”
Cecily’s gasp turned to a growl. “You didn’t trap him, you stubborn?—”
“Enough, Cecily,” Margaret said gently without looking away from Sebastian. “This isn’t your fight.” She drew a breath and squared her shoulders like she might square up to a storm.
“Your Grace, I need a moment. To understand what you truly want. If we must speak of… this… I want to do it privately. With Cecily present as chaperone.”
Aunt Agnes gave a brittle laugh, half disbelieving. “Margaret, you dare?—”
“She dares,” Cecily cut in. “I’ll chaperone them. We’ll do it properly.”
Agnes’s eyes widened. “You, child? You are hardly?—”
“It makes no difference,” Cecily said, her tone sweet as spun sugar and twice as cutting. “She’s already ruined, remember? And I’ve an excellent memory for scandal. I promise not to add to it… much.”
Margaret’s spine went stiff, but she met Sebastian’s gaze squarely.
Sebastian’s eyes never left Margaret’s. A flicker of something wry ghosted the corner of his mouth.
“I’m at your disposal, Lady Margaret. Lead on.”
Margaret’s fingers twitched at her skirt hem. Her voice came steady, but her pulse thundered at her throat. “The west sitting room, then.”
“Perfect,” Cecily said tightly, looping her arm through Margaret’s before anyone else could protest. “We’ll be fifteen minutes, Mother. Try not to faint.”
CHAPTER 6
The west sitting room was half-lit, curtains drawn tight against the pale dawn. Cecily perched dutifully on a rosewood chair by the door, her arms crossed, eyes sharp as any governess.
Margaret stood by the cold fireplace, one hand braced on the marble mantel. Sebastian stood opposite her, coat perfectly buttoned again.
For a moment, neither spoke. The clock on the mantel ticked dry, smug.
Finally, Margaret broke the silence. “Well. Here we are.”
Sebastian’s brow lifted, faintly amused. “Indeed.”
She turned, fingers tapping the stone. “You could sit, you know. You look like you’re about to give a speech on naval tactics.”
He let out a breath that might have been a grunt, then dropped into the nearest armchair, stretching one leg out carelessly. “And you look like you’d rather fling yourself into the fireplace than hear it.”
