Page 10 of The Duke of Fire (The Dukes of Desire #1)

S ebastian returned to his grandmother’s townhouse, his boots striking the marble floor with deliberate sharpness. He wanted the entire household to feel his approach. Let them know he was back and in no forgiving mood.

The butler bowed low, but Sebastian noticed the stiffness in the man’s shoulders, the tight line of his mouth. His presence had that effect when he was displeased.

“Where is she?” Sebastian asked curtly.

“Her Grace has gone to Gunter’s for ice, Your Grace,” the butler replied, his tone measured, but his eyes betraying the same weary dread.

“To Gunter’s?” Sebastian echoed, blinking once. “In this weather?” As more realization set in, he clenched his jaw. He did not wait for the butler’s response. “Of course, she did,” he muttered, already turning on his heel. “Who else would?”

Sebastian did not bother to wait for the butler to explain anything because the latter was already cowering from his presence. He would have the mind to talk to his grandmother about her choice of staff. Butlers should not be easily intimidated.

He quickly found himself back on the foggy and chilly streets of London. The temperature was unusually low for the spring; it should have been enough to make him feel the chill in his very bones. But he could barely notice the cold and the wind that exacerbated it. His mind was in turmoil.

When he stepped into Gunter’s, the warmth and sweetness of vanilla and sugared almonds assaulted him. Laughter rang out—too cheerful, too cloying. It made his skin crawl.

And then he saw them.

His grandmother, draped in crimson velvet trimmed with sable, sat regally at a round table by the window. On either side of her were none other than Cassian and Benedict, his two—now former —friends who had lately resembled traitors.

“Sebastian, darling! There you are,” his grandmother called brightly. “Come over here.”

He stormed over, incredulous. “You two again? With her?” Sebastian muttered, stomping toward the trio. “What are you doing here?”

“A good day to you, too,” Cassian greeted pointedly, lifting his spoon in salute. “The dowager caught us outside in this weather. She told us she needed some handsome scenery. Who are we not to oblige?”

“She wished to treat us to iced strawberry,” Benedict added, as he proceeded to finish the rest of his treat.

Sebastian gave them both a murderous glare before turning it on his grandmother, who was obviously the instigator of this little dessert sampling in foul weather. “And you? You have taken to interrogating my friends now?”

He shook his head in disbelief, while his grandmother merely turned her nose up and sniffed.

She tapped her cane on the floor with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“You never visit. I have to stay informed somehow. After all, what can I do as a lonely old woman? Most people come to me when they need something.”

Her eyes glittered, but not with sadness. It was something more. Knowing her, it was a sparkling intelligence. Her eyes were like orbs of chaos, always thinking of the next adventure. She often said that he was just like her.

“You could host your resurrection,” he muttered. “This time, I might attend.”

“Oh, such a spoilsport,” she huffed. “We were having such a good laugh.”

His friends nodded, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Blasted traitors,” Sebastian growled.

“Language, dear,” his grandmother scolded. “Now, sit. You look like you are about to challenge someone to a duel.”

He sat. Reluctantly.

“I have wanted to talk to you about your little stunt. I may not have visited you for quite some time, but I doubt it warranted faking your own death. You could have sent a letter.”

She smirked at him. “A letter? Truly? And you would have come with haste? I do not think so, dear grandson. You have been ignoring my letters for months,” she countered.

Sebastian could say nothing about that. It was true. He had not wanted to deal with anything that reminded him of his family, and his grandmother was the best example of a reminder as his only surviving relative.

“Do not pout, Sebastian,” the Dowager Duchess cackled. “We had so much fun at your expense. It is truly much better done with people whose opinions you care about.”

His two former best friends, as he would now call them, echoed her laughter.

“It was the most fun I had in days. No, let’s go for months,” Cassian said, nodding vigorously.

“Oh, you are repressing it all, Cassian. It is the best we have had in years,” Benedict agreed with a wide grin. “I should add it to my list of accomplishments.”

“If that was your idea of fun, you have not had it for a long time. What a damn shame, then,” Sebastian growled.

A part of him simply wanted to punish his grandmother to show her that her stunt had consequences. But the thought of a certain beauty with soft, brown hair and full, kissable lips had brought him here in the first place.

“Leave my friends alone, please,” the dowager pointed out, giving her spoon one last lick.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Tell me, dear, what is the true reason you are here? I doubt it is scolding me about what I did, and certainly, it is not because you miss me. What do I need to do for you to forgive me?”

A pang of guilt coursed through him. It certainly felt like he was only present when he needed something from her. He wished he could change it and play the doting grandson, but he knew that pretending was not his strongest suit.

“Fine,” he said after a moment. “Do you want to make it up to me for the fiasco you pulled? Then do me a favor. We will be even, and you will get to see me more often.”

“Oh, this should be good,” the dowager murmured, her well-formed eyebrows rising with surprise, and perhaps a little bit of indignation. They were, after all, similar in so many ways. “Go on.”

Cassian and Benedict could not help but lean forward, as well. The two were improperly invested in the matter at hand, but no matter; Sebastian had to take the plunge now. He lowered his voice, sounding mysterious. Just like his grandmother, he knew how to command people’s attention.

“I want you to write a letter to Viscount Warton. I am sure you have heard of him,” he began. There was a nod from his grandmother, and a glint of confusion in her eyes. “Tell him you wish to sponsor his sister, Miss Amelia Warton, for the Season.”

The dowager’s spoon clinked against the bowl, shock and protest reverberating on the glass. Her eyes widened as she pulled back away from her grandson.

“Miss Amelia Warton? I am familiar with her,” she said, something calculating slipping into her stare. Sebastian knew better than to underestimate it, but he would forge on. “That is the maid’s daughter!”

“Miss Warton is the late viscount’s legitimate child,” Sebastian reminded her.

“She is a living, breathing scandal,” the dowager hissed. “Some people will never forget who she is and will always be, Sebastian. Why would you want us to be associated with her?”

“I do not care about scandal,” Sebastian snapped. “Just do it. Sponsor her,” he confirmed truthfully, his voice becoming steely. “Or are you afraid you are not influential enough to not be affected by what you call a living, breathing scandal?”

The Dowager Duchess narrowed her eyes suspiciously, studying him. The humor she had been harboring seemed to dissipate before his eyes.

“Are you courting Miss Warton, Sebastian? Is that why you are determined that I take her under my wing?” she demanded.

Benedict and Cassian seemed to have been alerted by her tone, sitting up straight and watching grandmother and grandson almost without breathing.

“Remember that you are doing me a favor, Grandmother,” Sebastian said, his jaw tightening. “Ask no more questions, and send the letter to the viscount.”

“Oh, my dear boy. You know I live for intrigue. I simply want to know more. My so-called friends no longer provide me with interesting gossip.”

“Let me make this clear, Grandmother. I am not courting Miss Warton. We are not romantically involved. In fact, you know that romance and I will never be linked together. You will no longer ask questions about her.”

The Dowager Duchess pretended to be affronted. Yes, Sebastian knew that face. The scowl trying to hide her dancing eyes. She could be the only one who could ever poke his inner animal and live to tell the tale.

“Well, this is proving to be entertaining already,” she said after a long, dramatic sigh. “Do you not agree, Benedict and Cassian?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Benedict agreed. “Absolutely. Since he is not courting the young lady, it seems that Cassian and I are free to call on her. It will be so much easier now if you sponsor her.”

Both grandmother and grandson fixed him with a look. It was not quite angry, just cold. Benedict merely smirked. He was used to the family’s antics. Cassian shook his head, as if he had thought of saying the same thing.

“Well, Grandmother would be pleased to know that she can stay in my townhouse during this arrangement,” Sebastian offered.

“I will not ask any more questions if this means I can see my grandson every day and every night,” the dowager duchess said in a singsong voice.

“I believe that every day and every night would be pushing it.”

“But I would be living with you. I have missed you, Sebastian. I would gladly sponsor Miss Warton for the chance of spending more time with you. Family should stick together. I will not ask any more questions—”

“Good.”

“—for now,” she added with a wink.

There was a slight warning in her tone. Marianne Hargrove knew her role well, but she was also his grandmother. She rose then, satisfied with Sebastian’s invitation.

“I bid you three young men goodbye for now,” she said softly.

As soon as she left Gunter’s, Sebastian let himself sink into his chair. It was then that he noticed his friends were still gaping at him in shock.

“Would you care to explain what in hell that was all about?” Cassian demanded. “Are you certain you have not taken ill?”

“Well, of all the outlandish things I have ever heard,” Benedict muttered. “You want your grandmother to sponsor a maid’s daughter? That sounds like too much commitment coming from you.”

Sebastian sighed. Suddenly, he had a splitting headache. He rubbed his temple with his fingers. He had not thought this through. All he knew was that he wanted her. A woman who had so far been plagued by misfortune.

“Miss Warton is not a maid’s daughter. Her mother was a maid, yes, but her father, a viscount, married her. She is legitimate.”

“I gathered as much,” Cassian replied. “But I know that in our world, she still sounds like an outcast. I would believe it if you were cloaking your association with her with the dark of night, but having the dowager sponsor her? That sounds serious.”

“I am not doing this out of the charity of my heart,” Sebastian reassured his friends.

He was telling the truth. It was not his heart that stirred at each sight of the lovely Amelia Warton.

“Oh, that would have been hard to believe!” Cassian guffawed, slapping his thigh.

Sebastian was not amused. The whole thing was definitely inconvenient and perhaps a tad strange when he thought about it, but it had to be done.

That kiss proved it to him. Thoughts of Amelia’s innocence and impure thoughts in writing plagued him.

He exhaled audibly. The longer it took to get her under his roof, the longer he had to carry this weight in his chest.

“We have an arrangement,” he admitted to his friends. “She is in a situation that she wants out of. I am providing her a way.”

“What does it have to do with your grandmother?” Benedict asked, pushing the empty glass of iced strawberry.

“If my grandmother sponsors Miss Warton, no one will question her presence in my house or her frequent visits. That will give me the privacy and legitimacy I require.”

Cassian’s eyes flashed. Sebastian could see and understand his friend’s concern, but all he could think about was Miss Warton’s face.

“Is it just a seduction, Sebastian?” Benedict asked. “I can see you leaving off in dreamland. Were you just thinking about this woman?”

“No, Benedict, it is not a seduction. She was the one who came to me for help,” he replied.

“What is it then? Are you trying to take advantage of her distress because you want her?”

“I do not want her,” he said firmly, looking at a spot behind his friends. They seemed to wait for him to continue. Cassian had heaved a sigh of relief. “It is not that I want her. Not like that,” he added, as he finally met his friends’ stares head-on.

“All right, then,” muttered Cassian. Benedict merely shrugged. “Perhaps it is time for us three to go home and rest. Some people may need it more than others.”

“I need her.”

The two snapped their necks to look back at him in horror.

“It is worse, then.” Benedict sighed.

He did not know much about her yet, but he knew he needed to protect her. He could still vividly remember the bruise on her cheek from a slap made by a coward. His jaw clenched as his mind concocted various scenarios of revenge against the Viscount of Warton.

“Miss Warton came to me for help, but she agreed to play by my rules. She has nothing left. So, do not worry about me. I promised her protection.”

“Let’s say we understand how this works,” Cassian said, gesticulating with both hands. “When she has become yours, what then? After all, you have your rules. Only one night, and that is it.”

Sebastian was quiet, not because he was hiding anything. He just did not know what to say because it was terrifying to consider that perhaps, for the first time, he wanted more from a woman.

More.

Perhaps, he was only thinking about her like this because she had not shared his bed. Yet. She had also said no to him.

Benedict exhaled a short laugh, half in awe, shaking his head. “You are obsessed,” he muttered, though his grin betrayed a flicker of amusement.

“No matter.” Sebastian stared out the window. “I will make her mine.”