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Olivia‘s eyes bored down on his, full of disappointment.
―You married for love," he reminded her.
Her jaw worked, and he knew he‘d scored a hit. He wasn‘t, however, quite sure why he felt so guilty about it. Still, he could not stop now. ―Would you deny me the same?" he asked.
Except…
He looked over at Annabel. She was staring forlornly out the window. Her dark hair was starting to come free of its pins, and one loose curl had made its way down her back, revealing the length to be a few inches below her shoulders.
It would be longer when it was wet, he thought absently.
But he would never see it wet.
He swallowed.
―You‘re right," Olivia said suddenly.
―What?" He looked back at her, blinking.
―You‘re right," she said again. ―It was unfair of me to expect you to swoop in and save her.
She‘s hardly the first girl in London to have to marry someone she doesn‘t like."
―No." He looked at her suspiciously. Was she up to something? She might be. Or she might not.
Damn. He hated when he couldn‘t read a woman.
―It‘s not as if you can save them all."
He shook his head, but without much conviction.
―Very well," Olivia said briskly. ―We can save her for this afternoon, at least. I‘ve told her she may remain until evening. Surely Newbury will lose patience before then and go home."
―He‘s at her house right now?"
She gave a curt nod. ―She was coming home from…well, I don‘t know where. Shopping, I suppose. She saw him get out of the carriage."
―And she is certain he was there to propose?"
―I don‘t believe she wished to remain long enough find out," Olivia answered acerbically.
He nodded slowly. It was difficult to put himself in Annabel‘s shoes, but he supposed he would have done the same.
Olivia looked over at the clock on the mantel. ―I have an appointment."
This he did not believe for a second, but still he said, ―I will stay with her."
Olivia let out a long exhale. ―I suppose we‘ll need to send a note over to her grandparents. They are going to miss her at some point. Although knowing her grandmother, perhaps not."
―Say that you‘ve invited her to visit," he suggested. ―They cannot object to the connection."
Olivia was one of London‘s most popular young matrons; anyone would be delighted to have her take their daughter—or granddaughter—under her wing.
Olivia nodded and went over to Annabel. Sebastian poured himself a drink, and then, after downing it in one swallow, poured himself another. And one for Annabel, too. By the time he brought them over, Olivia had said her goodbyes and was heading out the door.
He held out the drink.
―She has an appointment," Annabel said.
He nodded. ―Take it," he said. ―You might not want it. But you might."
She took the glass, took a tiny sip, and set it down. ―My grandmother drinks too much," she said, her voice a heartbreaking monotone.
He didn‘t say anything, just sat down in the chair closest to the sofa and made some sort of reassuring sound. He wasn‘t good with sad women. He didn‘t know what to say. Or do.
―She‘s not a bad drunk. She just gets a little silly."
―And amorous?" he asked, quirking a smile. It was a highly inappropriate comment, but he could not bear the sadness in her eyes. If he could make her smile, it would be worth it.
And she did! Just a little. But still, it felt like a victory.
―Oh, that." She covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. ―I am so sorry," she said with great feeling. ―Honestly, I don‘t know when I have ever felt more embarrassed. I have never seen her do that before."
―It must be my charming aspect and handsome visage."
She gave him a look.
―You‘re not going to say something about my modesty and discretion?" he murmured.
She shook her head, the sparkle starting to return to her eyes. ―I‘ve never been a very good liar."
He chuckled.
She took another sip of her drink, then set it down. But she didn‘t let go. Her fingers tapped against the glass, tracing short quick lines near the rim. She was a fidgeter, his Annabel.
He wondered why this pleased him. He was not like that. He‘d always been able to hold himself preternaturally still. It was probably why he was such a good shot. In the war he‘d sometimes had to hold still for hours in his sniper‘s perch, waiting for the perfect moment to squeeze the trigger.
―I just want you to know…" she began.
He waited. Whatever it was she was trying to say, it wasn‘t easy.
―I just want you to know," she said again, sounding as if she was trying to muster her courage,
―that I know this has nothing to do with you. And I don‘t expect—"
He shook his head, trying to save her from having to make a difficult speech. ―Hush, hush. You don‘t have to say anything."
―But Lady Olivia—"
―Can be very meddlesome," he interjected. ―Let us just, for now, pretend that—" He cut himself off. ―Is that a Gorely book?"
Annabel blinked and looked down. She seemed to have forgotten it was sitting in her lap. ―Oh.
Yes. Lady Olivia lent it to me."
He held out his hand. ―Which one did she give you?"
―Er…" She looked down. ―Miss Sainsbury and the Mysterious Colonel." She handed it to him.
―I assume you‘ve read it."
―Of course." He opened the book to its first pages. The slanted light of dawn , he said to himself.