Page 18

“My lady, you have no need to feel uncomfortable in my presence. I know my grandmother may ask some things that are … forward, but the elderly tend to set aside conventions in their final days. Know that I think nothing of such questions. I am forever grateful for you being willing to help me, and I shall stand by the terms of our arrangement.”

“We both have much to lose, and she is a kind soul. I can see why you would go so far to see her happy.”

He picked his stick back up, struck the white billiard ball, and sent the balls scattering. “I would do anything for her. She is everything to me.”

Vivienne clutched the book to her chest. “I shall be in Mrs. Larkby’s room, waiting for her to awaken, if you have need of me.”

He glanced from her retreating form to the stack of books atop the writing desk—all bearing his title.

Lady Larkby was quite prolific for having been published for only three years.

He picked up a title and flipped it open, sinking on the window seat.

The bookstore had been sold out when he had attempted to discover more about her before the masquerade—which felt like an eternity ago.

He cringed at the romance, but the story itself wasn’t terrible and the writing was melodic. There were so many bouquets being given in the book, he finally sighed and tossed it aside, deciding he had best take a cue from Evie. Vivienne .

He strode out into the rose gardens, gathering one bouquet for his grandmother and a second for his supposed bride. If he were to keep up appearances, he would need to give each woman a token of his affection.

“Excuse me, Sir Sebastian?”

He turned to find the boy from the inn stables—looking considerably less scrawny in the short time since Bash had last seen him.

Grandmother must have taken one look at him and instructed the cook to empty the larder and pantry in an effort to minister to his health.

“I see my grandmother gave you a position.” He nodded to the lad’s livery. “You look well, Noah.”

Noah puffed out his chest, grinning. “The best I have ever felt. I-I would never seek you out, b-but I wanted to thank you. I was grooming the horses when you arrived—otherwise I would have told you then.”

He shook his head. “No need to thank me. I may have seen you awarded the position, but it is your hard work that will see that you keep it. Are you happy here?”

“Yes, sir. Very, sir. Mrs. Larkby has been kind to me. She even let me have the mornings off to attend the local school. If there is anything you ever need, you let me know and I’m your man.” The boy scampered back to work, his movements stronger than they had been not too long ago.

He would have expected nothing less from his grandmother to see to Noah’s mind as well as his body’s needs.

She always did have a soft spot for motherless boys.

Bash climbed the stairs with his two bouquets, noting the laughter floating out from his grandmother’s chamber.

The two women had apparently bonded much while he was out.

He strode inside to find the windows open wide and Evie sitting on the edge of the bed with a book in her hand and his grandmother …

in tears? He paused at the door, blooms in hand, assessing the situation.

He was not skilled when tears were involved.

“My dear Sebastian, come in. Your bride is a delight. I have not laughed so hard in years.” Grandmother’s gaze shifted to the roses, and she clasped her hands to her heart.

“Oh, what lovely blooms. Thank you, my boy. I miss such thoughtful gestures when you are away. And yet knowing that you are living your childhood dream makes my heart take flight.”

He bent, kissed Grandmother on the forehead, and rested the blooms on the blanket where she might enjoy them as the maid fetched a vase. He turned to Evie, uncertain. He had never given a young lady flowers before. He bowed and extended them to her. The small gesture felt monumental.

Evie’s fingers brushed his as she accepted the bouquet with a smile and buried her nose in the blooms, breathing deeply. “How kind of you, my darling.”

He found himself wishing that she meant the pet name.

As if sensing his longing, Grandmother scowled. “Aren’t you going to thank your husband properly? You’re a writer of romance and adventure, but I’ve yet to witness either from the two of you.”

Her cheeks flamed. “Grandmother Larkby, such a thing you ask. You have been too long out of society if you think such a thing is acceptable to ask.”

He grinned, liking the sound of Grandmother Larkby’s suggestion, but he gave her a teasing grin and chided, “Grandmother, I hardly think such a display is—”

“You would deny me such happiness as bearing witness to a sweet romantic moment at my advanced years?”

He grasped Evie’s hand and helped her to stand, his heart pounding as hard as Brigand’s hooves.

She was a lovely woman. It wasn’t as if the thought of kissing her again hadn’t crossed his mind.

But kissing with an audience, who was already giggling in delight at his discomfort, was hardly how he’d imagined their second kiss.

He lifted Evie’s hand to his lips. “There. You mischievous girl.” He winked at Grandmother.

She snorted. “Sebastian Gray Larkby, you look like a chicken with that peck.”

“No one has ever dared call me a chicken.”

“When one kisses like that, it is warranted. If you think that is a kiss, it is a wonder that you got her to the anvil.”

His brows rose.

“I told your grandmother about our romantic marriage over the anvil in Gretna Green.” Evie sent him a strained smile, begging him to play along.

“Ah yes, our marriage.” He claimed Evie’s hand in his once more. “I wish you could have seen it, Grandmother. Vivienne hardly ceased kissing me long enough to say the vows.”

“Sebastian!” Vivienne gasped, walloping his chest with the roses, a handful of petals bursting free. “I did no such thing.”

Grandmother lifted her roses and caressed a bloom.

“Do not fear my judgment, dear girl. Sebastian’s grandfather was the most romantic man I have ever met.

Surely some of his romance has passed on to his grandson, making him irresistible to you.

” Grandmother coughed into her handkerchief.

“Go ahead and kiss her then. Do not be shy on my account, Sebastian. Lord knows, you were never shy in any other instance. Why, I remember you pretending to be an Olympian as a boy, tearing across the lawn in nothing—”

He drew Vivienne close to him, assessing her for any signs of unwillingness.

Chewing her bottom lip was a mark of contemplation.

Did she want him to kiss her? It felt too long since their kiss, but would she recognize his touch?

He slowly lowered his lips toward hers, giving her ample time to signal him.

She darted under his arm, laughing. “You are quite naughty, Grandmother Larkby, goading my Sebastian into a kiss, but I shall not kiss a reluctant knight. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some writing to do. I shall leave you with your Olympian.”