Page 55 of The Courtship Trap
She turned slowly, looking over her shoulder at the painting that had betrayed her.
No. That was not right. She had betrayed herself.
And once again, there was no one to blame but her.
Sebastian stormedinto the Scott residence, barely acknowledging the footman who opened the door before shrugging out of his coat and tossing it over a chair in the entryway. His boots struck hard against the polished floor as he strode down the corridor, his fury barely contained beneath the surface.
Damn her.
Damn her lies, her secrets, the way she had looked at him with those wide, pleading eyes as if she had not just shattered whatever trust had been growing between them.
He had spent the evening at his brother’s house, facing the cold disapproval of Philip and the barely concealed unease of the others. He had defended her against them all, against every muttered doubt, every veiled warning. He had sat there, knowing full well that his family did not approve of his courtship, did not trust Harriet, and still, he had been determined.
Because he had believed in her. Because he had wanted a future with her.
And all the while, what had she been doing? Lying to his face. Smiling at him, allowing him to believe in a shared future that had never been real.
A deep sense of betrayal twisted in his gut. He had been a fool.
As he entered the library, he found Lorenzo lounging in one of the armchairs, a book resting open on his lap. At the sight ofSebastian’s thunderous expression, Lorenzo’s dark brows lifted in mild concern.
“I take it the dinner did not go well?”
Sebastian let out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his disheveled hair before crossing to the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a brandy with more force than necessary, the liquid sloshing against the sides of the glass.
“The dinner went precisely as expected,” he bit out. “It was the events after that ruined everything.”
Lorenzo closed his book, watching him closely. “Do I want to know?”
Sebastian downed half the glass in one swallow, the burn of the alcohol doing little to soothe the fire in his chest.
“She lied to me,” he said flatly.
Lorenzo did not react, merely tilting his head in question.
Sebastian exhaled sharply. “She told me she no longer had the painting.”
Lorenzo’s eyes widened with understanding. “But she did.”
“She did,” Sebastian confirmed. His grip tightened around the glass. “It was hanging above her bed the entire time. And I—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching.
Lorenzo’s lips twitched. “You were in her bed?”
Sebastian shot him a dark look, but Lorenzo only leaned back, utterly undaunted. “Well, that does complicate matters, does it not?”
Sebastian slammed his glass down on the table, pacing the room. “I defended her. I was prepared to stand against my entire family if need be. I …” He hesitated, exhaling sharply. “I wanted her, Lorenzo. Not just for now. I was ready to build something real with her.”
His friend watched him carefully. “And now?”
Sebastian let out a bitter laugh. “Now I do not know what to think. Every time I begin to believe in her, she reminds me why I should not.”
Lorenzo considered this for a moment before speaking. “Do you believe she meant to betray you?”
Sebastian hesitated, the question catching him off guard. Did he?
He thought of the way she had looked at him when he confronted her—the shock, the regret, the raw emotion in her eyes. She had not looked triumphant. She had not gloated in her deception.
She had looked … heartbroken.
