Once a Wallflower, At Last His Love (Scandalous Seasons #6)(47)

Stricken by Hermione’s frugality, Addie cried, “But…” Her words ended on a gasp. She widened her eyes. “What does he want?”

Hugh growled. “Yes. What does he want?” He trained an angry glare beyond her shoulder.

Hermione stiffened and a thrill of awareness raced along her back. As her body attuned to the nuances of his every movement, she knew Sebastian was there as surely as she knew her name was Hermione Rogers. Breath caught in anticipation, she turned slowly around.

Sebastian stood at the very end of the row. He leaned against the towering shelf, studying the tableau with Hermione’s siblings with a veiled expression. It would seem he had not left in order to see to his business at London Hospital. Why did he remain? Surely not for her fractious family?

She swallowed hard. “Your Grace.”



Sebastian took in the two wide-eyed children staring at him with varying degrees of mistrust and interest. What accounted for such wariness in such young children? He thought to his own childhood and back to when Emmaline had been a girl. They’d never borne a hint of the mistrust evident in this trio before him.

“Allow me to introduce you to my sister, Adeline Rogers,” Hermione said, clearing her throat. She touched her sister’s shoulder. “Addie, this is His Grace, the Duke of Mallen.”

The girl snorted. “You’re a duke.” She craned her head back and stared overly long at his hair and then her gaze did a slow, disapproving pass over his frame, landing at his toes. “You don’t look like much of a—”

“Addie!”

The girl fell into a curtsy. “Your Grace.” She mumbled a handful of unintelligible words that sounded a good deal like ‘not-much-of-a-duke.’

Sebastian shook his head, dispelling the foolish thought. “Miss Rogers, a pleasure.” He sketched a bow and then shifted his attention to the flushed elder sister. “Miss Rogers, I wondered if I might be of any assistance?”

She gave him a wry smile. “Unless you intend to take a birch rod to this one, then I imagine not.”

An indignant gasp escaped Hugh. A mottled flush stained the boy’s cheeks.

She settled her hand on his shoulder. “I’m merely kidding, Hugh,” Hermione said in a placating tone.

He shrugged it off. “It was not funny.”

“Hugh does not have a mature sense of humor,” the small girl with dark brown hair and sapphire-blue eyes explained.

The scowl thrown Sebastian’s way by that humorless little boy indicated no response was the safe response in this instance.

And when faced with the miserable bugger’s surly attitude, he did the only thing he knew in dealing with a child. “Allow me the pleasure of purchasing each of you a book, then?”

Addie clapped her hands. “Oh, splendid.” Excitement sparkled in her eyes.

Hermione shook her head once. “It wouldn’t be proper… I…we… couldn’t allow you to do that.”

Addie cried out. “Oh, Hermione you never allow us anything fun. You’re always so serious and…” Elder sister glared the girl into silence. Addie wrinkled her mouth. “Humph.”

For all the lessons drilled into him on responsibility, Sebastian had still been afforded great luxuries as the heir to a dukedom. Hermione’s family had not been so very fortunate. If she were his, he would fill a room with every book by her beloved Mr. Michael Michaelmas and not a single one of the classics if it would bring her to smile.

And because of the abject disappointment in the eyes of a girl who looked so very much like a miniature version of Hermione, Sebastian fished around the front of his jacket and pulled out a purse of coins. “I insist.” He tossed the small bag to Hugh who caught it with one hand.

Before Hermione could protest, the little girl let out a squeal, grabbed her brother by the arm and tugged him down the row and around the corner.

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. “You really shouldn’t have done that, Your Grace.” She tipped her chin back, her jaw set at a proud, mutinous angle. “I’ll not accept charity.”

Did she consider her family in need of help? Except, he recalled her family’s threadbare furnishings and the cracked paint. His gut tightened. He quite abhorred the idea of Hermione Rogers needing charity. He continued walking closer to her. “Am I to be ‘Your Grace’ now?”

She backed up a step. “It was always Your Grace.” She paused. “Is always, Your Grace,” she amended.

He took another step. She retreated. Her back thumped against the shelves. Sebastian continued walking. He stopped before her. With a veiled gaze, he took in her rapidly heaving chest, her slightly parted red lips, and a surge of desire coursed through him. Had he ever seen her as anything less than beautiful? “Do you know what I believe, Hermione?” He framed his elbows on either side of the shelf, effectively trapping her in the fold of his arms.

“Wh-what is th-that?” Her breathless stammer roused a primitive sense of male satisfaction as he reveled in her interest.

“You do seem very serious.”

“Do I?” she squeaked.

He touched a finger to the right corner of her lips. “You frown a good deal.” Too much. It was a travesty for the plump red flesh to ever be anything but turned up with a smile.

“Y-You shouldn’t touch… That is… Your actions are quite…o-our actions are rather…”