Once a Wallflower, At Last His Love (Scandalous Seasons #6)(68)

“If you’d been patient, Miss Rogers, you would not have needed to go through all these machinations.” Sebastian dropped his gaze and she followed it down to the empty dance card dangling from her wrist. He gave his head sad shake. “That damned card. You had me at that damned card.”

Her heart picked up a frantic, hard rhythm as the implications of his admission robbed her of breath. He’d likely never forgive her, but she needed to at least try to salvage what had been real between them. “I know you detest me.” And rightfully so. “I know what I’ve done here is unforgiveable, but I need you to know when I saw you, I never saw your title.” Not in the way he believed.

He gave his head a disgusted shake. When he spoke it was as though he’d not heard her admission. “You would have been a duchess, regardless. At least I now know the true character of the shameless charlatan I’ll take to wife.” He spun on his heel and marched to the door.

Hermione flew across the room and over to him. “Sebastian, where are you going?”

He stilled, his fingers upon the handle. “You needn’t worry, Miss Rogers. I intend to wed you, whether I wish it or not. I am nothing, if not honorable,” he spat.

She knew that. It was just one of the many parts of Sebastian Fitzhugh, 5th Duke of Mallen she loved.

He ran one more scathing glance over her person. “I merely wish I could say the same for my wife-to-be.” With that painful barb, he yanked the door open then stormed out.

Aunt Agatha stumbled over herself to step out of his path. Her aunt’s words called to her, almost from a distance. “You’ve done well, my dear. You are to be a duchess, and you’ve saved your family from ruin,” she added that last part as though it were an afterthought.

Hermione stood there numb, staring at the doorway through which Sebastian had just disappeared. Yes, she’d saved her family from ruin.

But at what cost?





C





hapter 19

Hermione pulled back the curtain and peered down into the quiet London street. Thick grey clouds blanketed the sky, portending a future storm. Her lips twisted with bitterness. Figuratively and literally.

“Come away from that window, Hermione Rogers,” her aunt snapped from over her shoulder. “We do not need the duke arriving and observing your eagerness. Such behavior isn’t becoming of a future duchess.”

She ignored her aunt and continued to stare absently out at the intermittent carriages that rattled by. “Nothing conveys eagerness more than trapping a gentleman into marriage,” she said, her voice flat. As empty as her life had been for the past eleven years, for one glorious week she’d known happiness with Sebastian and with one rash decision, she’d thrown away all hope of his love.

From the crystal pane she detected her aunt’s mouth tighten with disapproval, but the woman was wise enough to relinquish the matter. The flutter of her satin skirts indicated she’d moved. “What you’ve done is honorable, Hermione. You’ve saved your family, secured the title of Duchess of Mallen, and you’ll no longer have to worry about your material comforts.”

She spun around. “Do you truly believe there was anything honorable in my forcing the duke’s hand?” she asked, incredulous that her aunt could be so unfeeling. For no matter Hermione’s feelings for him, what she’d done had eliminated his right to choose happiness and true love. “Nor was this ever about my material comforts,” she spat. She redirected her attention to the window, but her aunt refused to allow Hermione her solitary thoughts.

Aunt Agatha placed a hand upon her shoulder and forced her back around. “Your mother would have wanted this.”

An ugly laugh spewed from Hermione’s lips, startling her with the vitriol there. She’d never known herself capable of such cynicism. “Then you never truly knew my mother.” How had she ever believed there was anything romantic about lies and betrayal and unrequited love? Perhaps because in her fictional world, truth eventually came to light and true love triumphed. Had she truly been so foolish to believe such things?

“Perhaps you are right.” Her aunt dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. “Your mother was a silly romantic. She foolishly believed love was enough. Your father,” she flung that word as though it was a curse, “and mother’s love should have taught you the perils in desiring that fool emotion above all else. None of this,” she slashed a hand indicating the room, “would have come to pass if my sister had wed a man of her proper station.”

“Perhaps.” Hermione squared her shoulders. “I would gladly trade a life of wealth and status to have known the fleeting joy shared by my parents.” As it was, she’d bind herself to a man who detested her, and her love for him would go unrequited, unwanted and eventually would die.

“The operative word there, my dear, is fleeting. Do you imagine Hugh, Addie, Elizabeth,” she paused with that final name, “were better served by your parents’ selfish love? Or do you imagine the protection of a strong and more untouchable nobleman, such as your duke, would have been best for this family?”

Hermione hated her ruthless aunt for being correct in this regard. Her gaze flitted away. If there had been a strong, powerful father then none of this would have come to pass. Elizabeth would have never been cruelly assaulted, Hermione wouldn’t have been rushed to London with the sole purpose of making a match to salvage their family—she would never have trapped Sebastian. Useless tears popped into her eyes, blurring her vision as she recounted Lady Brookfield’s ball. Sebastian had intended to offer for her. He had wanted her…and the offer he’d intended to make would not have been out of any sense of obligation but rather because he cared for her. Or rather, he had cared. Any feelings of affection he might have carried had been swiftly extinguished with her betrayal. A tear fell and she swatted it back.