Page 31 of The Lady Was Lying (Greydon #3)

Chapter Fourteen

T he small bench hidden amongst the roses at the back of the garden had seen its share of Belinda’s angst. She’d retreated to its shelter frequently, choosing to wallow in the peaceful silence of the outdoors as she attempted to untangle her emotions rather than the oppressive quiet of her bedchamber.

It wasn’t visible from the house. Or from the terrace.

If anyone in her family wanted to find her, they had to go searching.

The only person who had ever been brave enough was Sebastian, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he slid onto the bench next to her and stretched his legs out in front of him.

Another restless night hadn’t brought clarity.

Only shame.

She loathed the way she’d treated James and the way she’d reverted to old habits.

“Not quite as idyllic before the roses bloom,” Sebastian remarked after several minutes. As the weather had begun to warm, the garden had perked up, but it was nowhere close to its glory, and it wouldn’t be for several more weeks.

“The barrenness suits me,” she replied, unable to hide her dissatisfaction.

“Does it?”

“Today it does.” And probably tomorrow too.

Uncertainty had clung to her like a second skin for days.

She’d always assumed that she’d know what to do if she kissed a man and liked it, but now that it had happened, she had completely bungled it and had no idea how to recover.

Stuck in a never-ending cycle of disbelief and awe, she couldn’t seem to figure out what to do next, and therefore she had done nothing other than ignore her family, society, and James.

Sebastian didn’t reply immediately, and the air was so still that the only sound she could hear was the quiet rasp of his breath.

“I’ve been thinking about Mother,” he finally said.

Their mother had been by the day before, but Belinda had avoided her the same way she was avoiding everyone else.

“Me too,” Belinda admitted, even though she didn’t imagine their thoughts had been similar. He would never wonder if his life would be easier if he were more like their mother rather than less.

“Mother has always driven me crazy,” he said.

“It got worse after Father died, and I’m sorry to say that I didn’t consider the cost of my absence when I chose to avoid her.

My frustration made me blind to a lot of things.

About myself and our family.” The red stain on his cheeks suggested he was uncomfortable.

“Emmeline was my first.” He cleared his throat.

“ My only . Too scared to end up like our parents, I never even allowed myself to consider a physical relationship before I married Em.”

Forcing herself to chuckle, she responded, “One of the many ways we are different.”

“My path has not been the same as yours, but I’m starting to wonder if we are more alike than not. I had never felt passion when I married. I wasn’t sure I wanted to or was even capable of it. When it did happen, I was overwhelmed at first. Confused, too.”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand the comparison he was making. “What makes you assume I feel passion with James?”

His mouth quirked. “James?”

“It is his name.”

“I’ve never heard you call him James though,” he murmured, running his hand through his hair.

“In the past when I’ve caught you with a man, you’ve been…

defiant and…I don’t know…almost sad afterward.

But with James, everything is different.

Your reactions. Your expressions. Your body language.

Even now, you’re contemplative rather than distressed. ”

“I’m plenty distressed. I treated him the same way I treated all the others.” She rubbed her finger along the bumpy edge of the bench and admitted softly, “I liked kissing him.”

Sebastian made a choking sound, but his voice was steady when he replied, “I could tell.”

Focusing on where her finger pressed against the bench made it easier to admit, “I’m not sure what liking it means.”

“What would you like it to mean?”

She swallowed and whispered, “That I’m not broken.”

“Belinda.” A comforting hand settled on her shoulder, and even though she didn’t turn toward him, she leaned into it. “If I could go back, I would undo my part in making you feel as if there is something wrong with you.”

“It isn’t your fault,” she replied gently.

“I beg to differ. I brought you to London. I forced you to enter society, and I didn’t protect you from those who would take advantage of you.”

“No one took advantage of me. I took advantage of them. I’m the villain here.”

“No.” His clipped tone made it clear that he disagreed. “Our mother goaded you into doing things you wouldn’t have done otherwise.”

Was that true?

“I wanted passion.”

He sighed. “But not just passion.”

“Maybe not. It’s just…She makes it seem easy. Nothing else matters to her when she’s with a man. And she never fails to get what she wants.”

“She’s failed plenty.”

“Not in love.”

“In everything else that matters.”

Belinda couldn’t argue with that. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I’m not emulating her. Becoming our mother is literally the last thing I want, but I hate that I’m as scared of the things I felt when I kissed James as I was of the things I didn’t feel when I kissed everyone else.”

“Have you considered that you might be…uh…overthinking a bit?”

She snorted. “Of course.”

“In that case…” He frowned. “It might be counterproductive to suggest that you allow James to court you, but have you considered agreeing to a more traditional path?”

“Maybe.” Obviously, she’d thought about it. How could she not?

“You like him. He likes?—”

“—I said maybe.”

“What’s holding you back?” he asked.

“Expectations. Pressure. The judgment of society.” Her fickle heart. And her stupid brain.

“If there were no expectations, no pressure, what would you do?”

What would she do?

That was the question.

* * *

James was in a bit of a quandary.

After extensive deliberation, he had settled on a plan. Not a foolproof plan, but one that leveraged everything he knew about Belinda and everything he knew about society.

He had a chance of succeeding. At least he hoped. If his plan worked, he and Belinda would live happily ever after, and if not, he’d probably be shunned by the entire Greydon clan.

It was a risk he was willing to take.

A risk he needed to take.

Belinda had avoided him since the kiss. Every time he had called in the last eight days, she had been conspicuously absent. When he had directly inquired about her well-being, he was told she was in fine spirits.

Whatever that meant.

He’d assumed that after the conversation he’d had with Greydon, he would be able to count on the other man to help him, but instead, Greydon had conveyed her regrets more than once but had done nothing to facilitate an encounter.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that James was desperate for contact. The longer Belinda avoided him, the longer she had to convince herself that the budding emotions between them were false.

She seemed like just the sort to doubt her feelings—and his—so he wanted to enact his plan sooner rather than later. In order to succeed, he needed help from someone inside her house.

Hence, the quandary.

“Lady Jane,” James whisper-yelled from his hiding spot behind a large tree in the park. He hadn’t spotted Belinda, and he didn’t think she was nearby, but he didn’t want to inadvertently catch her attention. Not while he was scheming to win her heart.

Jane turned her head from side to side, but did not look toward the trees at her rear.

“Behind you. In the trees,” he called, slightly louder.

She pivoted, a frown on her face as she slowly walked toward the tree he was using as cover. The frown disappeared as soon as she saw him. “Your Grace.”

“Is Belinda with you?” he asked, staying well out of sight until he had an answer.

“No. She has a headache .”

Immediately concerned and fearing he’d been misled about the state of her health, he popped out from behind the tree. “Belinda is ill?”

Jane shook her head. “She is fine. Apparently, I was being so irritating earlier this morning that she developed a headache and had to retire to her room for a respite.”

He forced himself to chuckle. “I’m glad she’s well.”

But not that she was hiding away. His plan required Belinda to venture out of her brother’s house and would have a much better chance of succeeding if she were in a favorable state of mind. “Were you irritating her intentionally or unintentionally?”

“A little of both. She’s been even grumpier than normal and has refused to leave the house for over a week. I was trying to spur a reaction.” She grimaced. “Sorry to say I only succeeded at angering her and pushing her further away.”

It was his turn to grimace.

He was going to have to be blunt and honest.

Looking Jane straight in the eye, he told her the unvarnished truth. “I want to marry your sister, and I need your help. I have an idea, but I can’t manage it on my own.”

“Marry her.” Jane’s lips curved upward, and her eyes glittered. “I knew it. Tell me what I can do.”

* * *

Belinda was listlessly walking next to Jane when a carriage careened to a stop in front of them. The door flew open and before she could react, James leapt out, plucked her straight off the ground, swept her inside, and deposited her on the forward-facing bench.

It was the middle of the day, people were nearby, and she could have attempted to resist or create a scene, but she was too astonished to do anything other than gape as he yanked the door closed and secured it.

“You…you…” she sputtered rather incoherently.

“I’m sorry,” he responded, adjusting the curtain that covered the window. “Too dramatic?”

Was it?

Wallowing in melancholy had never been good for her disposition.

It made her surly.

For days, she’d been struggling to regain her equilibrium, and she had required something to jostle her back into herself. Being tossed into his carriage had certainly managed to break through her malaise.