Page 26 of The Duke of Fire (The Dukes of Desire #1)

“You know that will never happen,” Sebastian grunted, the denial bitter on his tongue.

“But if it satisfies you, I will tell you what I have been up to these days. I went to Vauxhall, then the Opera. I even tried spending some time at Gentleman Jackson’s.

There was this woman who got too close, and I felt like my old self again.

Then… I saw her in the light, and I just could not. ”

He was almost panting after his emotional rant. His friends merely looked at him. They knew he had more stories within him, burning like fire. Spreading wild. It was all because of that woman who had managed to make him feel so lost. So restless.

“Everything I have tried felt wrong. So, even though I heard my name being called as if I were being cajoled into a world beyond ours, I just could not go back to that woman. She was—” Sebastian faltered, looking away.

“Not Miss Warton?” Cassian said impatiently. “Well, you can always take her to bed and see if it is all about the wait.”

Sebastian thought about it. Perhaps it could be as simple as that.

“Their music. Their voices. They all used to be seductive,” he murmured.

“Again, no one sounded like her.” Cassian’s voice was starting to sound impatient, and he could not really blame his friend.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. Perhaps it was time to stop talking. He should either move on with his life or actively pursue her.

“Miss Warton can read you,” Benedict added casually, as if they were merely discussing the weather. “She reads you, and possibly other people in the room. She is clearly an intelligent young woman. Have you thought that she is the one playing the game better than you are?”

Sebastian bristled at that. He knew that Amelia was a smart woman. There was no doubt about it. But the idea that she was playing him seemed preposterous. The woman wanted to escape. She was not faring well under a man’s thumb. Why would she want submission?

The last word made delicious visions rise from within him, but he stomped them down.

“Enough!”

“Well, you must decide, Sebastian. You have never been this uncertain about anything. She is not here,” Benedict reminded him, “and you are.”

Sebastian had somehow calmed down. The humor of it all silenced the turmoil within him.

“Inconvenienced,” he said, grinning widely. “Mildly inconvenienced.”

Cassian laughed at that. Nobody would ever believe that Sebastian and the word ‘mildly’ were ever associated at some point in the duke’s life.

“While I am your friend and I do not want to see you suffering, I must say that your grandmother is the only other person on God’s dear Earth who is enjoying this as thoroughly!”

“What about me, then?” Benedict asked, just as willing to rid themselves of the earlier tension.

As if the invocation had somehow worked, a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in!” Sebastian called out, already guessing who could be wanting his presence.

His butler entered with a note on a silver tray.

He could already spy his grandmother’s seal on it.

He sighed. What did they say about people appearing after their names had been mentioned?

Yes, his grandmother would still have a rich, long life.

She also did not need to be announced, but she sometimes did it when she had something important to say.

“Her Grace requests a word with you, Your Grace,” the butler said. Sebastian could only imagine him trying not to roll his eyes.

Sebastian took the card. Even before he opened it, he already knew that this was no appointment for another day. His grandmother was certainly somewhere outside, waiting to be let in.

He sighed. “Send her in.”

As soon as he said those words, the Dowager Duchess of Firaine swept into the room. Apparently, she was merely waiting for his words from the corridor. Benedict and Cassian tried to stifle their laughter. One was in danger of ending up in a fit of coughing.

Sebastian smiled at his grandmother. He loved her dearly, and they only had each other in this world. But she could be a handful. She walked in a sea of lilac silk, with a face that was suited for dramatics.

“My darling grandson,” she said grandiosely as she glanced upon his friends. “Boys.”

All three bowed respectfully when they heard that word.

Sebastian and Cassian were thirty, and Benedict was twenty-nine.

Yet, they were all willing to act like boys for the dowager.

Cassian emphasized this by rising and giving her an exaggerated bow, leaning on his cane for support, and Benedict followed suit, albeit less theatrically. Sebastian simply stared at her.

Still, she strode toward him and perused every corner of the room. “You look pale, and you have… what have you done with your furniture? It looks like you let your temper dictate your choices again!”

“I did not do anything,” he said, shrugging. “I just pushed some things around. But if I do rearrange my furniture, then it would be my business.”

“Ah. Well, I am here to rescue you, dear boy. It looks like you are on the path of self-destruction,” she announced cheerfully, “again.”

She sat down on the settee, beaming happily as if her grandson was not glaring at her at that very moment.

“You should at least have a tray with tarts over here,” she suggested. “What are the three of you doing? Just drinking? Sebastian, you need some treats for guests.”

“You are the only one who enters my rooms unannounced and expects to be immediately served,” he grumbled. “These two do not care much what I have here or not.”

“Mm. I am just being a grandmother, my dear,” she said sweetly, “and grandmothers want the best for their children. It would also be wonderful if such a grandmother were treated well by her grandchild.”

“You are certainly right, Your Grace,” Benedict said, nodding solemnly with his eyes closed, while Cassian guffawed.

“Thank you, dear. After all, I am here to bring good tidings. Finally, you will see Miss Warton. Well, that is, if you are sober enough by the time we have to attend Lady Ashcombe’s ball this evening.”