Once a Wallflower, At Last His Love (Scandalous Seasons #6)(82)

The lady did not like to speak of her family. That much was clear. Sebastian studied her distracted movements as she pushed her fork about her untouched plate, her gaze fastened to the cold ham. Was she ashamed of her family?

He recalled her earlier blush at the story shared by her father. Most ladies would have welcomed praise rained upon them. Hermione had shifted in her seat with pained embarrassment. And more, in her father’s telling of the story, Sebastian had been forced to view her as more than just a scheming, fortune-hunting miss, and instead see a lady who’d plucked her sister from a droving and carried her injured younger sibling all the way home.

“Do you know,” he began, his words freezing her movements. “It occurs to me I know nothing about you. Your middle name is Edith.” He paused. “I presume that wasn’t a lie.”

A little smile played about her lips. “If I were to lie about my name, I’d choose something a good deal more interesting such as Serena or beautiful like Georgiana.”

Had she been any other woman, he’d have believed she was in search of compliments, yet not Hermione. In her unwillingness to speak of herself, that much was clear. He ran his gaze over features he’d once considered plain. Hermione suited her. Not because it wasn’t beautiful, but because it possessed an element of uniqueness. He tightened his grip about his fork, hating himself for wanting her despite her betrayal. Wanting her even as she asked him not to visit her bed.

She colored under his regard. Yes, she could insist she did not want to share his embrace, but the manner in which she’d returned his kiss spoke of her passion—really the only truthful thing about her.

From down the end of the table, Emmaline called out to Hermione, quashing his desire. “Where does your family hail from, Hermione?”

“Surrey.” She popped a piece of ham into her mouth, the first bite she’d taken, and a likely ploy to deter any further questions.

Sebastian’s intrigue redoubled. He reached for his steaming glass of coffee and blew on the contents. His wife, all the while, shifted under the force of his scrutiny.

The lady’s father seemed quite eager to fill the silence where his daughter did not. “We have a splendid cottage, don’t we, Hermione?” She remained stonily silent. “We’ll be returning tomorrow.”

“You will?” Her shocked question reverberated awkwardly throughout the room.

The baronet gave a slight shrug. “Can’t remain here. Must be back.”

A panicky glint lit his wife’s eyes. “Surely you’ll not bring Addie and Hugh. You c…” She took in the curious stares trained on her and glanced down at her plate.

“Hermione quite loves the country,” her father explained to the table. “The splendid cottage and all. Oh, nothing near as grand as the duke’s home. Now Hermione’s, too, I suppose,” he said with a chuckle. “But many happy memories we have there.” The man’s merriment seemed to instantly slip and in its place descended a somber, almost empty mask that seemed to belong to an altogether different man than the garrulous gentleman from a moment ago. Then the other man fell as silent as the grave and didn’t utter another word through the remainder of the meal.

At last the wedding breakfast came to a blessed end. The guests rose, almost as one. Hermione remained rooted to her seat, unblinking.

Sebastian touched the back of her chair and the slight movement pulled her from her distracted state. She surged to her feet as the guests filed from the breakfast room. She hurried wordlessly past him and matched her father’s pace.

And as the small gathering reached the foyer, it occurred to Sebastian by the way in which his wife arched on the balls of her feet, she appeared ready to take flight with the guests. His mouth tightened. For one who’d orchestrated their discovery at Lady Brookfield’s, her reaction hardly seemed fitting of one eager to find herself the current Duchess of Mallen.

She held her father’s hands in her own, the two of them whispering. Occasionally, the baronet would nod. She kissed him on the cheek and Sebastian looked away from the unwanted reminder that she was a woman with a past and not merely a schemer who’d trapped him.

Someone touched his arm and he started. Emmaline leaned up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “I like her, Sebastian.”

Well, that was something.

His sister swatted his arm as if reading his mocking thoughts. “I do. And I suspect you two will be happy…if you allow it.”

He gave a curt nod. He’d not debate the merit of his sister’s words before the servants rushing about preparing their mother for her travels. Nor did he care to discuss as much in front of Hermione.

His brother-in-law stuck out a hand. “Mallen.”

He eyed it a moment and then accepted the gracious offering.

Then another flurry of good-byes, well wishes, and hurried servants and everyone was gone—but for Sebastian…and his wife.

Silence echoed off the marble floor. Wordlessly, he turned and started for his office. Awareness of his wife’s stare boring into his back increased with each step. He resisted the urge to look back and gauge whether there was the hint of any emotion from his new bride. Then again, when one was capable of the lies Hermione was, a feigned expression could be adopted as easily as a Covent Garden actress. With deliberate steps, he climbed the stairs, damning the promise he’d made to not visit her bed.