Page 19 of The Duke of Fire (The Dukes of Desire #1)

S ebastian thought the days after The Arrangement were even drearier than the ones that came before. It was like walking through a perpetual, heated fog.

He had tried to stay away from Amelia for a while, but his grandmother had made it a habit to invite her to his house for company and, sometimes, to introduce her to friends. He had been made aware that his grandmother had even begun finding suitable matches for her.

“Since you are not interested in her that way, it is best for her to have some options. From what I have seen of that girl’s family, she needs to get out of that house,” his grandmother had said.

It should not bother me. I was the one who asked her to do that.

Sebastian did not know whether to protest her plans.

He wanted to claim Amelia as his own. To touch her, kiss her, and possibly bed her to rid her from his mind.

Yet, he also wanted to ensure she was doing well.

He found himself lingering by the windows overlooking the gardens whenever she was there for a visit, a stroll, or even a chat with the dowager’s other guests.

He told himself that he had no business watching her, but he continued to do so. Repeatedly.

“She is just a novelty,” he had grumbled to himself during one of those moments when he spied her, sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of the garden. “The thrill of pursuit.”

Yet, the feelings that involved her were not only present whenever she was there. They were also there during her absence. His estate felt dimmer whenever she was not there.

Sometimes, his mind dragged him back to the gardens. To that kiss. The truth of it was that he had panicked. He had felt something stir in his chest—something warm, terrifying—and it had gutted him. So, he said the cruelest thing he could. That she was nothing to him. Just a bargain.

But even now, he remembered the way her face had changed. The way she had so quickly smoothed over her expression, the way she tucked the pain away, spoke volumes. She had done that before. Many times. Too many. And he had added himself to the list of people she had learned to shield herself from.

It haunted him.

She told him she had hoped that he might be someone worth wanting. And wasn’t that what he feared most? That someone would want him, and he would ruin it?

Because deep down, Sebastian knew the truth.

She had not been the one playing with fire.

He had.

That morning, he thought that Amelia would be there. He stood by the window, as usual, but moved even closer. He pressed his forehead against the glass as if it would help him see her.

“She is not out there,” the dowager duchess muttered from behind him.

Sebastian quickly straightened himself. “I was just looking at the rose beds. Is it just my imagination, or do some of them look a little flat?”

“Mm. I do not believe it is the rose beds that had your attention. Not for a moment, Sebastian. Miss Warton is at home. She is not coming today,” his grandmother commented, obviously not believing him.

“I did not ask, did I?” Sebastian said dryly, turning toward her. She was holding a cup of tea. She merely sipped some of it, hiding a little smirk.

“True. But you looked so upset watching the rose beds that I was certain that it could not be about them,” she said, looking perfectly amused.

He walked toward her, every stride a challenge.

Despite his painful childhood, he could not truly hate her.

She was the only one who had somehow made an effort.

He had told her that his recent efforts were too late, but he still hoped that…

that what? He stopped his thoughts before they ventured into dangerous territory.

“You are imagining things, Grandmother.” He scoffed.

“You are restless,” his grandmother said, moving toward a table to put down her cup.

“Your face lights up only when her name is mentioned. The other day, Lord Bertram made her laugh. As her sponsor, I should be glad about it, but you looked like you were prepared to jump out of the window and murder him. I saw you.”

“Bertram is a fool, and you know it,” he grunted, sitting down and resting his back.

“He is harmless, Sebastian. Unlike someone else I know. If you cannot offer Miss Warton marriage, do not hinder her opportunities. He seemed quite taken with her, and for good reason.”

He said nothing at that. Of course, his grandmother made sense, and he did not like it. He did not like that she could read him like a book.

“Careful, grandson,” she continued, turning toward the door to announce her exit. “You taught yourself to survive without wanting things. But sometimes, things do not work out quite as we plan.”

One afternoon, Sebastian finally went out to the gardens.

The peeking and hiding did not feel like him anymore.

He felt like a coward. One other reason he went out was to find some fresh air.

There was no hope for solitude, though, because he swore he heard his grandmother’s cackling somewhere outside.

Following the sound, he did find a table with tea. The dowager duchess’s silver tray was neatly arranged on a wrought-iron table near a rose arbor. It was a feast, as well, with delicate cakes and other pastries, her favorites.

To make matters worse, his two oldest and most infuriating friends, Benedict and Cassian, were also in attendance. It seemed that his grandmother enjoyed goading him by spending time with the two idiots.

“What in God’s name is going on here?” he asked, stopping a few feet away from the little picnic.

“A tea party, naturally,” Cassian replied, lifting his cup with theatrical grace. “You do recall what that is, don’t you?”

“Hard to say,” Benedict added. “He has traded tea for liquor and manners for hedonism. I daresay the man would not recognize civility if it wore a corset.”

Sebastian sighed and rubbed his forehead. “How fortunate that I am surrounded by such shining examples of restraint.”

The dowager duchess turned in her chair, her posture regal and unmoved. “Your friends came to visit you, Sebastian. It was only polite of me to provide refreshments while you lurked in whatever corner of the estate you call home these days.”

“Of course, they came to see me ,” Sebastian muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had not seen the trio much together lately, but a few seconds of seeing them had already given him a headache.

“Well, sit over here. Why are you skulking in the shadows?” his grandmother demanded.

Reluctantly, he joined them, suppressing a growl. If this was meant to lift his spirits, it was failing. He had not even been in a brothel in weeks. Yes, that must be the problem. A new woman would solve his problems. Finding other friends might be another solution.

“Your Grace,” Cassian addressed the dowager, as if Sebastian were an afterthought. The duke knew his friend enough to realize it was being done on purpose. “There is an art exhibit this Friday afternoon near Bingley’s. I wonder if you would like to come?”

“That is certainly a delight. It is more than some people would ask me to go. That sounds like something Miss Warton might appreciate. Why don’t you invite her? I can come as her chaperone,” the dowager said much too gleefully.

Sebastian’s head snapped toward her. “Amelia? Why would you—”

“She enjoys paintings,” Cassian said innocently. “She mentioned it at the opera last week.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “You were speaking to her at the opera?”

“Briefly,” Cassian shrugged. “She is a pleasure to talk to.”

Sebastian did not think Cassian had any business seeing Amelia so closely like that.

“She is certainly sharp, too,” Benedict added, nodding thoughtfully. “She has opinions on Dryden, politics, and even philosophy. Meanwhile, the other ladies could only be bothered about fabrics and color palettes.”

“There is nothing wrong with discussing fabrics and color palettes,” grunted Sebastian.

What am I doing? Am I that desperate to get them to stay away from her?

“Ah, I forgot that you do like every type of woman,” Benedict said.

The dowager duchess gave an exasperated shake of the head at the reminder that her own grandson was a well-known profligate.

“No. I am just reminding you all that each woman has her own charm,” Sebastian said, even though it pained him to say so. Yes, he truly believed women all had something beautiful about them, but he was also intensely aware of how special Amelia was.

“Of course you would know that,” Cassian murmured, smirking at him.

“And you don’t? Do not let me narrate all your conquests in front of my grandmother, whom you two have been shamelessly charming!”

“You still have more than him,” Benedict said matter-of-factly, reaching for a slice of cake to fill his empty plate.

“I am simply getting tired of everyone talking about how wonderful Amelia is! You two do not really care about her!”He knew that they were doing this on purpose to get a rise out of him, but he could not help the jealousy that was choking him.

“Sebastian!” his grandmother exclaimed. “Is that jealousy I am detecting from you?”

“Hardly,” he said a little too bitterly before hiding it with a scoff. “You already know that I do not get attached to women. I am not the marrying kind.”

“Ah, that is good to hear, then,” the Dowager said, as Sebastian gulped down his tea. “Because I do not want any trouble when she comes.”

“When she comes?” he spluttered.

“Yes. I have invited Miss Warton to tea.”