Page 39 of The Duchess and the Beast

Not too hard. Not in a way that might trigger his defenses. But a gentle nudge in the right direction. Hewantedto lower his guard further. She could sense it. The mask was slipping, and all it needed was a slight, tender tug.

But she could feel it working. How close they had grown these last few days. How comfortable they were around one another. She sat so close to him that she could feel his warm breath on her skin, could almost hear his beating heart. No longer tense. No longer awkward. The way he looked at her… it was with a sense of want that she made to return every time their eyes met.

“I’ll make sure it reaches you then,” he chuckled lightly.

She waited for his laughter to die down before she looked right at him, humor gone, needing him to see that she was past the point of making fun. She didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t want to anger him. She wanted him. The real him. The one he was still trying so desperately to hide. That was all.

“Sebastian,” she began, her voice a soft murmur. “I have a confession to make.”

“All right...” He frowned slightly, a soft chuckle escaping him as if he half-expected another joke.

“The other evening, when I came into the washroom while you were bathing. I...” Virtue paused, biting into her lip. “I did not mean to see. It was wholly an accident, but...” She trailed off.

“But what?” Sebastian’s voice deepened, a shadow crossing his features.

“I saw.” She held his gaze. “Your face. I saw your face in the mirror, and—”

“What?!” Sebastian recoiled abruptly, his hand reflexively moving to touch his mask, the other poised as if he might rise. “What do you mean you saw?”

“I saw what you look like without the mask,” she quickly continued. “You were not wearing it and I saw the hidden side of your face and—”

“How dare you!” he interrupted sharply, standing now—his voice a low growl, his eyes suddenly alight with that fierce intensity. “How dare you... you deceived me! That is why you were there, weren’t you!”

“No!”

“Yes!” he retorted, his anger growing. “I told you, Virtue. I told you it was for your own good, but you would not listen. You never do! You—”

“You don’t need to wear it!” she cried over him desperately.

“Wh—what?” he stammered, his face blanking as if he hadn’t heard her.

“The mask,” she rushed to explain. “You do not need to wear it.”

“I do!” he bellowed, trying to frighten her, but she would not be frightened.

“No, you do not!” she shouted back, rearing up and glaring at him—matching his intensity with her own. “Do you know what I saw behind the mask? Do you truly want to know?”

“Iknowwhat you saw,” he replied, his voice low and harsh. “I live with it every day.”

Virtue scoffed. “Clearly not, because if you did, you would have cast aside that mask long ago. This whole time, I thought what you hid… I imagined something monstrous, something truly frightful hidden beneath.”

“Don’t...” he interrupted, a warning snarl in his tone.

“But that isn’t the truth at all.” Taking a chance, she boldly reached out for him, gently placing her hand over his. He tried to pull back but she held firm, holding his gaze. “There is nothing to hide from,” she reassured him, her voice tender. “A scar or two, perhaps, but they are merely that—nothing more. And they do little to take away from your beauty.”

“You don’t... you could not possibly understand.”

“Sebastian.” She let his name hover between them. “The mask is inconsequential. The scars are superficial. What truly matters to me is the man beneath it all. The man whom I have come to know and appreciate more deeply these past weeks than I ever thought possible. The mask does not define you. If anything...” She squeezed his hand gently, her eyes earnest. “It is themaskthat frightens me, not the face it conceals.”

She could feel Sebastian trying to stoke the flames of his anger. She could see him trying to work himself into a rage. But it was a weak thing, because hope held him at bay. Her words, the sincerity in them, were having the effect she had prayed they would. She had sensed that he wanted to show her his true self but that he had been too afraid. Now, finally, he had his chance.

“Show me,” Virtue urged softly. “Take it off.”

“I can’t...” His voice came out as a hoarse whisper, laden with years of insecurity and fear.

“Yes, you can,” she encouraged.

“I... no...” His objection was half-hearted, his resolve wavering.