Page 34 of The Duke of Fire (The Dukes of Desire #1)

“ A melia, wake up.”

Sebastian’s voice was low, almost reluctant. Dawn had not fully broken yet, but the first threads of light were creeping through the curtains. She was still nestled against him, soft and warm, her breath feathering against his chest.

She stirred. Her lashes fluttered, and for a second, she looked lost—then safe. She burrowed deeper into the crook of his arm with a soft, muffled groan.

“Mm. I do not want to wake up. Not yet.”

He smiled, though the ache in his chest had nothing to do with joy. He did not want her to wake either. He wanted to keep her like this—close, quiet, untouched by the world beyond this bed.

But reality loomed outside these walls.

“It is almost dawn,” he murmured against her hair. “You need to go before anyone notices you are gone…”

Her eyes flew open then. Fear replaced sleepiness quickly, and soon both were scrambling to look halfway decent before running for the carriage.

In the carriage, he gave himself time to look at her once more—to savor her. She was so beautiful, ethereal in the pale light of the early morning hours and still half-awake.

“How long was I asleep?” she finally asked, breaking the silence between them.

“It was long enough. You needed some rest,” he explained. “You were exhausted mentally and physically. But we do need to get you back before someone notices.”

Amelia nodded, though reluctance tugged at the corners of her expression. Fear flickered there for a moment, but she buried it beneath composure. He felt the same reluctance, the quiet desperation to keep her beside him just a little longer.

But he knew the truth. Letting go had to start now—before it became impossible. Since she told him that Finch had read his letter, he did not want to make things harder for her.

They got in his carriage in silence, several things left unspoken between them. Soon after, the horses slowed and trotted to a stop. The carriage door opened, exposing both of them to more of the chill from outside. A different kind of chill also descended upon them.

“Stay close,” Sebastian murmured. “We will slip you in unnoticed.”

But the moment they stepped out, the illusion shattered. A male figure stood by the drive, illuminated by a lantern. He was not pacing or fidgeting. He was waiting. There could be no mistaking his fury.

Amelia’s breath caught. “Finch.”

“Earlier, you denied being a whore. I almost believed you.” Finch’s mouth curled with disgust. “I was right, wasn’t I? You are a liar and a whore. Just like your mother.”

Amelia blanched. She staggered back as if her half-brother had slapped her. “It is not what you think.”

Finch was already moving, storming toward her. His hand shot out to grab her arm. But Sebastian moved faster. He caught Finch’s wrist midair, shoving it away with a force that sent the other man stumbling back.

“Touch her, and I will make sure you will regret it. Badly,” he warned, as he swatted Finch’s hand like one would a fly. The other man stumbled backward, but his rage had not abated.

“You have got quite the nerve,” Finch spat, his eyes blazing. “Taking advantage of my sister and then daring to lecture me!”

Sebastian did not flinch. “Nerve?” he echoed, his voice a slow, simmering growl. “What I have is sight—sight clear enough to see a man failing his duty to protect his own blood. I know how you and your wife treat her.”

Finch’s mouth twisted. “You may be a duke, but you have done something to her. Ruined her. Tainted her—”

“No, Warton. The only one who has ruined anything is you.” Sebastian stepped forward, a dangerous calm overtaking his tone.

“You have let her live in fear, in the same house you both grew up in. You strike her, belittle her, isolate her—and then pretend you are the one who has been wronged? I have seen the bruises. I have seen her shrink under your gaze.”

“Please, don’t, Your Grace,” Amelia begged, tugging at his sleeve.

But Sebastian did not stop.

“I will say it again so even a coward like you understands: if you lay one more hand on her, I will destroy you. I will do it slowly until you are nothing more than a story people whisper among themselves.”

Finch would not back down easily, sneering at the duke. However, unease was evident in his eyes.

“She is my sister,” he snapped, weaker now. “You think you can play the hero? She belongs in my house. I will deal with her as I see fit. And if the ton finds out what you have been doing—”

Sebastian scoffed. He took a few more steps toward Finch, who stepped back instinctively.

Sebastian laughed softly, darkly. “Oh, Warton. Do you think I fear scandal? I was born in it. I have done worse things than seduce a woman, and I did not even bother hiding most of them.”

He took another step forward, watching Finch’s bravado falter with every inch of ground he gave up.

“But she—Amelia— she should not have to pay the price for your failures.” His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. “You were supposed to protect her. She deserved better. Still does.”

“Please just stop,” Amelia whispered.

Sebastian looked at her then—really looked. Her shoulders were shaking. Her eyes glistened with shame and pain she was too proud to show. That was when he turned to her gently and said, “Go inside. Quickly, before the servants wake or anyone sees us.”

Amelia hesitated, but nodded her understanding and slipped inside. She opened the door. It creaked. No one dared move as it did. Then, it closed with a soft click. There were no sounds and no hints of commotion from the inside. Sebastian hoped that it meant she was safely in her room.

“Now that she is inside,” Sebastian said, his voice turning to steel, “we can finally speak plainly.”

“You cannot intimidate me,” Finch snapped. “You may be a duke—”

“I do not need my title to ruin you.” Sebastian’s voice was low. Controlled. Lethal. “But I do have something else—knowledge. And you have secrets.”

Finch’s face paled. “What secrets?”

Sebastian smiled coldly. “Your debts. The ones you thought no one knew about. White’s. Brook’s. You have been gambling away your inheritance. And your sister’s dowry.”

Finch froze.

“You—you cannot prove that.”

“I already have.” Sebastian leaned in, speaking slowly. “Your lenders speak freely when a duke asks nicely. You are weeks away from ruin. All it would take is a single whisper to the right men, and they will come knocking—not with polite requests, but with promises of collection.”

Finch turned white. “Y-you would not do that.”

“You know I will. Must I send the information to the papers? Oh, what about your dear, spoiled wife? Does she know? Will she leave you if she finds out that you are close to losing the whole estate? She is with child, and she does not even know if that child will inherit anything.”

“Please do not tell her,” Finch begged, breaking down. It was true. Octavia Warton was his weakness. What he saw in that vile woman he could not begin to guess. However, perhaps the two were just the right pair.

“Then listen to me carefully. I will not repeat myself,” he said, looking at Finch with deep scrutiny.

“You must find a husband for your sister. Find a good man, not a brute like you. Not someone who would hurt her. I will find out. Make sure that this man will make her happy. She deserves to be happy after all the years of pain and suffering.”

“She is ruined,” Finch said in despair, shaking his head. “No good man will marry her.”

“She is not ruined,” Sebastian corrected.

“You will make certain that nobody else will say otherwise. Dote on her as if she were truly your beloved sister, not just someone you treat as a burden. You will introduce her to potential suitors at teas and musicales. Then, when you finally find a good man who is interested in her, you will entrust her to him with a smile.”

Finch took a deep breath. He looked back at his house, possibly wondering if his wife or his sister were still awake.

Finch’s shoulders sagged, defeated. Sebastian watched him, his expression unreadable but without pity.

He did not want to have this conversation.

But no one harmed Amelia and walked away unscathed.

“I will find her a husband, Your Grace,” Finch finally muttered, even though he could not meet his eyes.

Sebastian remained standing, waiting for the rest of the promise.

“Oh, I know what you are waiting for,” Finch said grudgingly. “He will be a good man. Someone who will treat her well. He will not hurt her. He will love her and make her happy.”

Sebastian should be content. However, the little victory was bittersweet.

If Amelia were any other woman, he would be relieved to find a way to help her retain her reputation so that she could find a husband.

Yet, it did not give him the satisfaction he hoped for.

He nodded his goodbye and turned on his heel.

Back in the carriage, the tension in his chest remained.

He had provided the protection that he promised he would give, but she would haunt him forever.

He did not sleep as much as he had let Amelia believe.

He had stayed awake most of the night just to watch her sleep, memorizing her face like a man who knew he would never be that close again.

She will marry someone else. As she should.

The thought lodged in his chest like a blade. Someone else would hold her. Laugh with her. Love her.

He stared out the window, his jaw tight.

He had done the noble thing.

So why did it feel like he had just torn his own heart out?