Page 37 of The Duke of Fire (The Dukes of Desire #1)

“ N ow, I know what it feels like,” Amelia whispered, still in awe at what happened between her and Sebastian.

She had dozed off for a few minutes, during which Sebastian gently cleaned her up with his handkerchief. He watched her the whole time, even as he cradled her in his arms. But now, something had shifted. She was moving away.

Amelia quickly slid out of his embrace. He frowned at her, not certain why she was in a rush to rise.

“You know that I do not care if we stay here for a long time. Not this time,” he said softly. “We have already made them wait long enough.”

But she did not meet his eyes. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled on her chemise.

Strange, that.

He watched her dress, the warmth in his chest starting to twist. Despite how much he adored her curves, her softness, her body still flushed from their lovemaking, it was always her face that undid him.

It was her fierce mind, her defiant gaze, her impossible loyalty to those who did not deserve it.

Amelia Warton had taken up permanent residence in his heart—and she did not even know it.

But now she would not look at him.

She swallowed hard before turning to him. By this time, she was completely dressed in her gown. The only telltale sign that she had been thoroughly ravished was her hair—strands were sticking to her forehead, which still glistened with sweat.

“I have fulfilled my end of our bargain,” she said softly, and he wondered if he had heard wrong.

He immediately sat up on the chaise lounge, not bothering to cover himself up.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“I want the money you promised me.”

Sebastian blinked. He could not have possibly heard her right. He stared, frozen. Of all the things she could have said, that was not one of them. Why was she asking for money after they had made love?

“Money?” he echoed.“You cannot be serious.”

He could not believe that part of the arrangement had come crashing back to him.

Yes, this was supposed to be transactional.

She would get something from his help, and he would get something, too.

But he thought that after what happened, after the things they had gone through, the transactional part had been discarded.

Was that why she was so certain she would go through with it?

“I am. Money and a carriage for tomorrow morning,” she said, still avoiding his gaze.

“You have done enough—Almack’s, the dresses, even that meeting with Mr. Carlton,” she listed, her voice growing more agitated.

But then, she took a deep breath and gave him a small smile.

It did not reach her eyes. “But I want to leave. That had always been my plan. You knew that. I just did not have the means before.”

His breath hissed between his teeth as he ran both hands through his hair. He was still naked. Still warm from her. Still inside the afterglow of something that had felt real. Meaningful.

“You cannot leave now.”

“Why can’t I? Remember that our arrangement was all about me earning my freedom? We were certain about the path, and now the end of the road has come. I have earned what you promised me. You have had the novelty, a different experience that you have always been striving for.”

Sebastian stood. “After what we just shared, do you truly believe I will just let you walk away?”

Amelia held her ground, but he saw it—the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Of pain.

“There is nothing left for me here,” she said quietly. “Even my brother’s kindness was fake. This life, this world—it is not mine. And you…” she stopped, her voice catching. Then, suddenly, she looked up at him, eyes burning. “Would you marry me?”

The question hung for a moment, catching him by surprise. He had never gotten close to even thinking of the possibility of marriage. Like Amelia, he wanted escape, too, and marriage had always felt like a prison.

“Would you?” she asked again. Her voice cracked.

His mouth opened, but before he could say anything at all, there was a sharp knock on the door. Both of them flinched. Sebastian swore softly while quickly dressing himself. It was probably the fastest he had ever put on his clothes, and he had been in several compromising positions before.

Tonight was different. He was not saving his reputation. He was saving hers. Whatever was left of it.

“Stay there,” he murmured, as he strode toward the door.

Benedict stood by the doorway, looking just as disheveled. Sebastian thought that at least people would not wonder about his state of dress. He was already looking fully inebriated earlier.

“They are looking for you,” his friend said. Then, his eyes knowingly wandered to the spot behind him. “Both of you.”

“Who is looking for us?” Sebastian asked.

“Take your pick. Gossips. Busybodies. Your grandmother. Finch and his friends. The whole ton ,” Benedict replied with a shrug. “Some people are already looking for you. We cannot have people see you together. The scandal will be wild, but there are already rumors.”

“We will deal with it,” Sebastian said, a new resolve forming within him. “Come inside before someone sees you lingering out there.”

His friend complied, bloodshot and rumpled, but fully alert. They listened for footsteps, and when the corridor had cleared, they left the room.

He did not remember how he made it home.

What he knew was that his throat burned with more whiskey and brandy than he had ever taken in one night.

His only solace was that, for once, he might have managed to tamp down the gossip for Amelia’s sake.

The Duke of Firaine, they would say, looked absolutely wrecked—too wrecked for pleasure.

Surely he could not have just come from some woman’s bed.

His friends remained with him, alarmed by his new wave of self-destruction.

Benedict finally snapped. “That’s enough, Sebastian,” he said, snatching the next glass from his hand. “Are you trying to kill yourself tonight?”

“If he wants to die, let him,” Cassian said snidely.

Sebastian, looking like he had rolled all over the streets, slumped his back hard on the couch. “She is leaving tomorrow, Cassian. Tomorrow. She will not be coming back.”

Cassian exhaled, his arms crossed. “And whose fault is that, hmm?”

“I do not know what your problem is,” Benedict muttered. “Stop her and tell her you love her.”

Sebastian gave a hollow laugh. “You say that like it is nothing.”

“It is not nothing,” Benedict replied. “It is everything. You love her. She loves you. You both know it, we all know it, and yet here you are—too proud, too scared, too bloody stupid to go after her.”

Sebastian pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “You do not understand. I have never done this before. I do not know how to love someone the way she deserves. My whole life—every part of it—has been rules and trades. I do not know what happens if I give her my heart and she leaves anyway.”

“Mm. How do you know she will leave?” Cassian asked. “A woman who loves you will only leave if she is not happy. You are afraid of what is already happening now. You have made it happen.”

Sebastian exhaled harshly, doing nothing to alleviate the feeling inside him. He did not like discussing topics like love with his friends. He hated being vulnerable.

“You have been running away for too long,” Benedict said, gently placing a hand on his arm. “But maybe it’s time to stop running. Maybe she is the one.”

Hours later, in the early morning hours, his grandmother came to see him in the drawing room. She wore a shawl around her shoulders. Her white hair was pinned in a simple bun, instead of her usual fancy hairstyles.

“You have been drinking,” she said evenly. “Too much.”

“I have,” he admitted, voice hoarse.

There was no need to deny anything. He looked and smelled terrible.

“As the Duke of Firaine, you are allowed many excesses. What you did tonight is much more than that. But what you did tonight was not indulgence. It was grief.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “I know how to protect myself.”

“No, my boy. What you know is how to hide. Behind your rank, your charm, your control. But none of that will shield you from regret. Not this time.”

He swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat did not budge. “If I lose her—”

“You will,” she said gently, “if you do nothing.”

Silence pressed between them.

“You have wasted years chasing noise,” she continued. “Women. Games. Reckless pursuits. I never stopped you. I thought you needed to learn in your own time. But I have never seen you care like this. Never seen you suffer like this.”

She walked toward him, rested a hand on his shoulder.

“She will go. And you will survive it, as men do. But if you let her slip away without trying—if you let pride dictate your choice—you will regret it for the rest of your life. You will look at the emptiness beside you and wonder why you never dared to fight. ”

Sebastian sat motionless as her words sank in. Even after she left, her voice lingered in the room, clinging to the corners like fog.

He was a man who prided himself on surviving.

But maybe, this time, surviving was not enough.