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Chapter Twenty-Two

Selina

T hey sat in silence for a time, enjoying the reprieve from Felix’s anguish.

Selina tried not to be aware of the press of Sebastian’s body against hers or the way he smelled of cedar, but it was like fighting a rising tide.

“You are a skilled nursemaid,” Sebastian said. “He would not have fallen asleep in my arms so readily.”

“I have helped care for my nieces and nephews a time or two,” she replied. “Richard has no patience for such things, and Jane is always managing the needs of the four children.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Did you nurse George when he took ill?”

Selina’s head came around, and she met Sebastian’s gaze for a moment before turning her focus to Felix. His lips were parted slightly, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. “He was a far more difficult patient than the children ever are.”

Sebastian’s gaze grew curious. “How so?”

“He was terribly stubborn and refused to follow the doctor’s orders.”

There was another silence, and she thought on those moments at George’s bedside, caring for him, trying to persuade him to obey the doctor’s orders when she knew in her heart that she would be happier with him gone. She was ashamed that she had felt such things.

“You loved him dearly, didn’t you?”

Selina’s breath stuttered at the gentle question. She did not respond immediately. What she truly wanted was to know why he was asking. “No.” It was a terrible answer, but it was the truth.

He watched her intently. “But your ring…you are always touching it, fiddling with it. I assumed it was a gift from him.”

She looked down at it. “It was.” She thought for a moment, then reached her hand toward him. “Here. Take it. Look inside.”

Sebastian hesitated, waiting for her to meet his eyes.

She did so and gave a nod.

His fingers grasped the ring, brushing her skin with his as he gently wiggled it from her hand. After taking a moment to admire it, he brought it closer and looked at the inscription as she watched.

“For my most beautiful diamond,” Sebastian read softly. His eyes flicked to hers, questioning.

“That is all I ever was to him—something to adorn himself with. A pretty thing to look at. A possession to boast of. It took me too long to realize that.” Her mind returned to those early days.

They felt like a different lifetime—and she a different person.

“George was five-and-forty and I but seventeen when we met. He showered me with gifts and compliments, almost from that moment. I do not come from wealth, so my parents were in transports over the prospect of my marriage to such an established, moneyed gentleman, and I was eager to please them—and to be deserving of such attention. I was too young and inexperienced to understand that what I felt was flattery, not love.”

Her brow knit with memory. “He commissioned a portrait of me not long after our marriage. It was enormous, and of course, I was pleased that he would wish for such a thing. Whenever the artist came, George was present, offering his opinions and telling the artist to soften this feature or change that one. He insisted on unveiling it at a party.”

Her eyes grew unfocused as she remembered it.

“He had me on his arm all night. He was laughing and talking with the guests, complimenting me to them, but never speaking directly to me. When the portrait was unveiled, there was applause, and George was radiant. I remember staring at the portrait long after the party had concluded and coming to the realization that that was precisely how George saw me: something pretty to display to his friends and add to his consequence.” She blinked away the stinging in her eyes.

“He gave me the diamond shortly after that, and I began to hate him, I think.” She met Sebastian’s gaze.

He was looking at her intently, a sadness in his eyes.

She smiled wryly. “I must shock you with such confessions.”

“No.” His brows pulled together. “I am sorry, Selina.”

She forced a soft laugh. “Sorry for what?”

“That you were ever made to feel such a way. You deserved better.”

She swallowed, her eyes prickling again so that she turned her head away. “It is all in the past now.”

Sebastian’s gaze remained on her, but he said nothing.

She closed her eyes, and the stinging began to dissipate, leaving her tired.

Soon, she was asleep.

The room was dark when Selina woke. The candle had guttered.

Felix was still asleep, but he had slumped over. There was a pillow beneath his head that had not been there before. Sebastian must have placed it there without her knowing.

She glanced to her right and went still.

Sebastian’s head rested on her shoulder, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. A shock of hair had fallen over his forehead.

Her hand itched to move it. She could not have done so even if she had wanted to, though, for both arms were holding Felix.

It was for the best. Her eyes explored Sebastian, admiring the way his dark lashes pressed against the top of his cheeks, how the line of his jaw sloped from his ear toward his strong chin. And his lips…

Felix shifted, and she winced, her body stiff from remaining in the same position for she knew not how long.

Sebastian stirred, and his face settled into the hollow of her neck.

Selina’s every muscle went taut as his breath warmed her collar.

He breathed in deeply, then went still.

By the time Selina had considered feigning sleep herself, it was too late.

Sebastian pulled away, his eyes wide as they settled upon her in the dark.

“Forgive me,” he said hastily.

“I think we all fell asleep,” she replied, grateful there was no light to betray the heat in her cheeks.

Sebastian reached over and felt Felix’s head. He let out a sigh of relief. “It has abated.” He pulled his hand away and watched. “He seems to be sleeping deeply. If we can extricate ourselves, I think we can safely leave him.”

Selina nodded, and for the next two minutes, they did their best to remove themselves from all the ways they were entangled with Felix…and one another.

She let out a sigh of relief when Felix remained still.

Sebastian led the way to the door, opening it slowly, then shutting it carefully behind them. “What time is it?”

“I have no notion.” She glanced around, but the corridor was dark and deserted, the entire house silent with slumber. “Nigh on two or three, I imagine. ”

“I would think so,” he said, but the way his eyes raked over her face made her think he was not thinking about the time anymore.

Her hand rose involuntarily to her hair, where it found mayhem and disorder. “I must look a catastrophe.”

His hand went to the hair at her temple, gently brushing it toward her ear. “You have never looked more beautiful.” There was none of the charm or flirtation she had come to expect from him in the words. His sincerity made her heart race.

This was not the man she had done everything in her power to mortify. He was gentle and caring, loyal to his family and self-sacrificing.

This was a man she could love—a man she feared she already did love.

She needed to stop it, to put an end to this feeling of falling.

It was too dangerous.

“I have hated you.”

Sebastian stilled, his gaze fixing on hers. He stared at her intently, quiet, waiting for her to go on.

“From the night we met, I suspected you wanted me for my fortune. I was on my guard, determined to show Phoebe how to protect herself from the gentlemen she would come upon in Town. But then I met you, and against my will, I liked you. I let myself be persuaded that perhaps your interest in me was genuine. And then I spoke with Mr. Haskett…”

Sebastian’s brows drew together, his lips pressing into a tight line.

“I was furious with myself for being taken in, just as I had been with George. To be flattered and charmed by someone who did not care for me but for only what they wanted from me. And my hope turned to hate in an instant.”

Sebastian was quiet for a long moment, the furrow in his brow deep. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I deserve your hatred. Heaven knows I have hated myself.”

She shut her eyes, trying to remember that moment with Mr. Haskett and the pulse of mortification and anger. She would do anything to recapture the hatred because at least then, she had felt in control. “Then why can I not feel it now?”

“Selina…” He brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek, and she trembled at the touch. His finger traced the line of her jaw, leaving her skin tingling in its wake until he reached her chin. He held it softly between his thumb and forefinger, then tilted her face up.

She opened her eyes, and the tenderness with which he looked at her made her knees shake.

“I want to hate you,” she said, her voice a bare whisper, “but I do not.”

“Nor I you.” His thumb grazed her bottom lip, and her eyes fluttered closed.

The touch of his thumb disappeared, and the next sensation she felt was his lips brushing hers.

Sebastian’s hands cupped her face, anchoring her to him as though the tide was not already sweeping her ruthlessly his way.

But his kiss was not ruthless.

It was intent yet gentle, full of something so sweet that Selina’s entire chest ached. It was the type of kiss she had not known existed—had not dared imagine.

But it was real. The press of his mouth to hers, the touch of his fingertips on her neck and cheek, the mix of his breath with hers. All of it was real.

And the feelings within her…those were perhaps most real of all, overwhelming her with their intensity until she thought she might lose herself within them.

Nothing else mattered. Not the past, not the future. She wanted this. She wanted him , and she would give anything to have him.

She pulled away and stepped back.

His wide eyes watched her, grasping for understanding as his hands hovered in the air where they had just held her, as though she might come back at any moment to where she belonged.

“This was a mistake,” she said, her voice breathless .

“Selina…”

She put a hand up and took another step backward. “No.” The word was more of a plea than anything.

The corridor was still dark and silent, her thoughts clouded by the pounding of her heart and the tingling of her lips. It almost felt as though she was still kissing him.

She could not tell what was real anymore, which of her thoughts and feelings to trust.

She had thought George’s love real, and it had cost her dearly. She had thought Sebastian’s love false, and now…now, she did not know what to believe.

She had promised never to surrender herself again, never to belong to anyone but herself. But at the first touch of Sebastian’s lips, she had been ready to give anything and everything, willing to forget the pain of the past and cede control of the future for…what?

“I am sorry,” she said, her voice strangled. “I cannot do this. I will not.” With a final look at Sebastian’s concerned face, she turned on her heel and fled to her bedchamber.