Page 52 of A Promising Little Scandal (Sensual Scandals)

It was difficult not to allow those harsh words to affect her, but Calliope stood her ground. Just like Isadora hid her true emotions, she was able to shove down her hurt to be dissected for another time. She certainly wasn’t going to allow this horrible man to see how much he had injured her. Instead, she dared to say, “What if I said I loved him?”

He snorted at that. “Others have claimed the same but have not managed to gain more than his passing fancy. If you are wise, you will leave now and forget about my grandson. He has already done the same about you.”

Calliope’s throat was starting to close, and she was perilously close to either screaming or breaking down in self-pitying tears. “Very well. I shall go, but you should know that you can’t hide him forever. I will find a way to gain an audience with him.”

She turned to go, but she was stopped by the marquess. “He will be at Vauxhall tonight. You can see the truth for yourself then since you choose not to listen to me and spare yourself the unnecessary heartache.”

The door was slammed shut.

Calliope glared at the offending wood, hoping that her displeasure was conveyed to the nasty man behind it. She had never met such an unpleasant gentleman, but she supposed not everyone could be as kind as her father.

With a heavy exhale, she stomped back toward the carriage where Emma was waiting. Her eyes were wide with curiosity, but Calliope waved a hand. “I’ll tell you later.”

Sebastian heard the door to his sitting room open and he leaned his head back with a sigh. Only his grandfather would dare to intrude on his solitude without knocking.

“I thought I’d made myself clear—”

“That Bevelstroke gel was here.”

Sebastian had another glass of brandy on the way to his lips, but with this revelation he set it aside with a decided thump and instantly got to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.

He started to walk for the door, but paused when the marquess said, “She’s already gone.”

Sebastian gripped the door frame on either side of him and prayed for patience as he straightened and slowly turned around. He eyed his grandfather steadily. “Did you talk to her?”

“I did.”

“And what did you say?” Sebastian prompted through clenched teeth.

“It’s not polite to leave an old man standing without offering him a seat,” the marquess returned sourly. He set his jaw and then limped over to sit in a nearby chair. Only when he was settled did he say, “I told her that you weren’t receiving.”

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know I would have heard what she came here to say.”

“That may be,” the marquess sniffed. “But I told her you would be at Vauxhall tonight and that I would arrange a meeting between the two of you.”

“Did you?” He snorted. “And why would you be so generous when you have made your sentiments about Lady Calliope quite clear?”

His veined and weathered hands tightened on the silver head of his cane. “Perhaps I’ve decided to keep an open mind for your sake.”

“Indeed?” Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh. He walked over and retrieved his drink. He slammed it down his throat, relishing the burn, and then turned his back and walked over to the window. “Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe.”

He searched every carriage that passed even though he knew she had already departed.

“Believe what you want, but if you are so determined to see the gel again, then I suggest you join me at the gardens.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw and closed his eyes briefly. He didn’t believe for one minute that his grandfather was telling the truth, but neither could he take the chance and miss seeing Calliope in case he was. These past several days since he’d returned to London had been a well of misery. He’d had no motivation to reply to any of the invitations that crossed his threshold, and even though several of his old cronies had dropped by to coerce him back to the brothels and gaming tables he once used to frequent, Seb had no desire to do either.

It angered him, how much he missed Calliope, because he was sure that once she had dismissed him so easily that day on the beach, he would have been able to do the same. Regrettably, that was not the case. He was bereft without her and if it wasn’t for the alcohol that put him to sleep every night, he wouldn’t have been able to rid her of his thoughts long enough to rest at all. Every time he closed his eyes, he could still bring to mind her light, feminine scent. He could feel the silky softness of her fiery red hair as it slid through his fingers, and vividly recall the sweet taste of her lips.

He was either going mad or suffering from something far worse. He was hoping that when he saw her again, he would be able to convince himself it was the former, because if not, he would have to decide if he dared to erase several years’ worth of promises he’d made to himself. Not only was the fear of marriage still an impediment, but how might he convince her to wed him even if he were able to hurdle such an obstacle?

In the end, Sebastian stated firmly, “Fine. You win. I’ll be there.”

He heard his grandfather rise and thump over to the door. There was a brief hesitation before he said, “The Dark Walks at midnight.”

---