Once a Wallflower, At Last His Love (Scandalous Seasons #6)(30)

Sebastian strode over to his armoire. No one truly took the time to learn his interests or desires beyond how it pertained to the damned title. Certainly not his father, the man who’d molded him. And what was more…Sebastian wanted to know about the woman Hermione, herself.

The door opened. His valet slipped inside and Sebastian gave silent thanks for the interruption that stopped the flow of his confounded thoughts. The servant cast a forlorn glance at the rumpled attire and then moved with a purposeful march Wellington himself would have been proud of, past Sebastian, over to the armoire. He pulled the doors wide and pulled out each necessary piece, one at a time.

Wordlessly Sebastian allowed himself to be dressed into comfortably dry garments. How did a gentleman learn about a young lady? He furrowed his brow. Even with his fascination of Hermione he’d not engage gossiping servants or resort to the scandal sheets. Nor could he obtain information about the young lady without rousing the ton’s suspicions. Waxham hadn’t known of her or about her. Sophie and Emmaline and his mother would interpret his interest as that of a romantic kind.

Which it was not.

Assuredly not. He appreciated his women with voluptuous forms and blonde hair and….

Yet, as Sebastian accepted a jacket from Winston and pulled it on, he recognized there was something also quite pleasing in slender, lithe limbs and narrow waists. An unwitting grin pulled at his lips. There was also something to be said for a spirited lady undaunted by his title.

He stared at the door a long moment. Perhaps, the best way in which to discover the secrets of Miss Hermione Rogers was not through friends, family, or gossip. His lips turned up in a slow smile. Perhaps it was in spending time with the lady herself, solely for research purposes, of course. After all, it begged an answer as to why a woman not at all his type had so captivated him…



Seated upon the frayed red sofa, Hermione sifted through the ink-marked pages and absently stared at them. She tapped a finger against the top of one sheet. They really should be numbered. That way when her sister inevitably sneaked into her rooms and read through the pages, Hermione would have some semblance of the order of her plot.

Addie peered over her shoulder. “I believe the part where she meets the duke at the ball comes first.”

Yes, that of course made the most sense considering that was where she’d met the duke. She moved the page up in order. With a sigh, Hermione laid them down on the marble-top table in front of her one at a time. A loud rhythmic tapping interrupted her concentration. She frowned at her brother. From over at his seat by the window he tapped the edge of his foot against the floor-length crystal pane. “Do not do that,” she scolded. “You’ll break it.”

He stopped and swung his legs over the side of the window seat. “I told you Papa wouldn’t notice you’d dragged us out in the rain,” Hugh shot from across the room, his words directed at Addie.

Addie frowned.

“He cares, Hugh,” Hermione said softly. For both his and Addie’s benefit. The truth was Father didn’t care about much anymore.

He grunted and returned his attention outside.

“What if they meet in the park instead of the ball?” Addie suggested.

Hermione gave her head a distracted shake. She’d considered that point. Except, that wasn’t how the meeting had first taken place. There had been no great rainstorm with streaks of lightning. There had been a quiet office at a dull ball. Addie was indeed correct. The dramatic exchange between a duke and his heroine in a park, unchaperoned was by far the grander, more sensational beginning of any story. A wistful smile played at her lips as she thought of Sebastian, the Duke of Mallen. No, she could not change the meeting.

“Who is that?” Hugh asked from over by the window.

She picked up another page and considered what direction to take her duke and his heroine. “Who is who?” Hermione murmured distractedly.

Addie jumped off her seat and skipped across the room. She leaned over her brother’s shoulder. “Who is he?”

“That’s what I just asked,” her brother groused.

Addie sighed in a wistful manner that would require considerable watching in a handful of years, lest an undeserving scoundrel sway her. “He has the most glorious golden-blond hair. Even more glorious than Lord Cavendish’s.”

The page slipped from Hermione’s fingers and sailed to the floor. Her heart thudded wildly. Of course it was silly to imagine that just because her sister spoke of a blond-haired gentleman he’d be a certain golden-haired gentleman. Still, she hopped to her feet and sprinted across the room. She peered over her siblings’ shoulders. Her heart picked up its frantic beat. Sebastian! The duke’s long-legged strides carried him up the handful of chipped, stone steps.

They stared as one out the window. He chose that precise, inopportune moment to turn his gaze upward. The Rogers siblings leapt back as one. Hermione raced over to the table littered with her notes. “Hurry.” The terse order snapped her brother and sister into motion.

“Here,” she muttered and stuffed a handful of sheets into her brother’s arms.

She sprinted back to the window, just as the door closed behind Sebastian.

“What am I going to do with these?” Hugh groused from over her shoulder.

She raced to the table and gathered together the remaining sheets. Addie accepted the pages Hermione thrust her way without complaint. “Why is there a gentleman here?”