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He had a mysterious little half-smile as he studied the room before him. His bright, sea-green gaze slid over the assembly—and landed right on Mary. She was so startled she had no time to look away, or even disguise what she was feeling. That sudden rush of pure, molten excitement at seeing him again after all her hopes and fears, the warm giddiness that took hold of her—she feared it was all written on her face.
And after all those years of carefully learning to control her feelings. To always be perfectly, politely smiling. It was most absurd.
The duchess hurried over to greet him, the diamond-sparkled plumes of her elaborate headdress waving, and he was quickly surrounded by the crowd. Mary looked down at the floor and snapped open her fan again.
‘Or perhaps you were wise not to dance yet, Mary dear,’ Louisa said. ‘Not when there are suddenly far more—interesting partners now available.’
Mary glanced up at her friend in surprise. Were her thoughts now so apparent to everyone? ‘Louisa, I hardly think someone like Lord Sebastian Barrett would have any shortage of dance partners.’
‘La, who said anything about Lord Sebastian?’ Louisa cried. ‘Yet you had such a look on your face when he came in and I would vow he looked right at you. He could do no better for a dinner partner and you, my friend, are much prettier than you ever give yourself credit for. Now, come with me.’
Mary had not an instant to protest as Louisa took her arm and bustled her away from the dowagers’ chairs. She pulled Mary through the heavy press of the crowd, so quickly there was no time to look at the people they pushed past. They nearly stumbled over one lady’s train and Mary stammered an apology.
‘Ah, Lord Sebastian! Surely you remember us. We met at Lady Alnworth’s,’ Louisa cried. Mary whipped her head back around to find they had landed right in front of Lord Sebastian. The duchess watched them with an astonished look on her face, her gloved hand on the red sleeve of her prized guest, the heroic Lord Sebastian. But Mary barely noticed the social nuances she was usually so carefully attuned to. She could only see him.
‘Lady Louisa, Miss Manning,’ he said with a bow. ‘How very good to see you again. I was hoping you would be here tonight.’
‘Were you?’ Mary blurted out, then bit her lip.
He smiled down at her, his eyes shimmering. ‘Indeed. I enjoyed our talk at Lady Alnworth’s. I did glimpse you both at the park, but did not want to interrupt your conversation. Such fine weather this morning.’
Weather? It seemed such a mundane thing to speak of after all Mary’s daydreams of his handsome face, his voice, his smile. Yet she was glad of the familiar chatter. It gave her time to compose herself. She surreptitiously smoothed her skirt and gave him a careful smile.
After a few more pleasantries about the warm days and the loveliness of the party, the duchess was reluctantly distracted by even more new arrivals and Louisa tugged on Mary’s hand.
‘Lord Sebastian, I fear dear Miss Manning was just saying the ballroom is so very crowded she feels rather faint,’ Louisa said. ‘We were just on our way to seek some fresh air, but I fear I must repair my torn hem.’
Mary looked frantically at Louisa, trying to shake her head in protest. Whatever was her friend trying to do? Her face felt flaming warm all over again. But Louisa just smiled.
‘If Miss Manning feels faint, I would be happy to escort her to the terrace for a moment. I am not so fond of crowds myself,’ Lord Sebastian said, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. It made him look even more handsome.
‘Lord Sebastian, really, you must not—’ Mary began, breaking off on a gasp as Louisa’s grip tightened.
‘So very kind, Lord Sebastian!’ Louisa said merrily. ‘I will join you both in just a moment.’
Louisa spun away and Lord Sebastian held out his red-clad arm to Mary.
She accepted, feeling caught up once again in a hazy, sparkling dream, and let him escort her to the half-open doors of the terrace. She was afraid to look at the people around them, afraid to look up at all, almost fearing it would all vanish.
She was also afraid he had been caught by Louisa’s machinations, that he had a thousand places where he would rather be. Yet he gave no sign of resentment at all, no indication he wanted to leave her in the nearest corner at the first chance. He held tight to her arm, smiling solicitously as if he did indeed think she might faint. He talked in a low, deep voice of more light things such as the weather and the music, things she only had to make blessedly short answers to.
She glanced at him secretly from the corner of her eye, examining his sharply chiselled profile. There was no sign of what she thought she had glimpsed at Lady Alnsworth’s, that stark second of loneliness, and then in that brief glimpse at the park. That raw, burning solitariness she herself hid so deep inside.
They slipped through the doors on to the terrace. It was an unusual space in a London house, a wide marble walkway with carved stone balustrades looking down on to a manicured garden. Down there, Chinese lanterns strung along the trees gleamed on flower beds and pale classical statues.
Along the terrace itself, potted plants created intimate little pathways, with chairs tucked behind their leafy shelter, perfect for quiet conversations. A few other couples strolled there, pale glimpses between the dark green.
The hush after the roar of the ballroom was almost deafening.
‘If I had my own house, I would make a space much like this,’ Lord Sebastian said, his voice quiet, with a rather musing tone, as if he was somewhere far away.
Mary glanced up at him, startled to see how serious he looked as he studied the garden. ‘Your own house, Lord Sebastian?’
He looked down at her, a half-smile on his lips. ‘I could hardly add it to my father’s house. He would consider a terrace a great frivolity.’
‘I sometimes think about what I would like to have in my own home, as well. I have never really had one, we move about so much. No one asks what colours one might like in lodgings! But some day...’
‘Some day a real home of one’s own would be nice.’
‘Yes, indeed.’
They stopped at the end of the terrace, where two marble balustrades met and a set of stone steps led down to the garden. The corner was sheltered by a thick bank of potted palms. It was quiet there, no sound but the faint echo of music and laughter from the ballroom, the whisper of a breeze through the trees.
Mary could almost imagine they were alone there. It was disconcerting, making her shiver with nervousness—yet it was also rather alluringly lovely. In the crowded ballroom, she had felt so alone, as she often did at large parties. Here, with just him, she didn’t feel alone at all.
‘A terrace like this could be so lovely for a luncheon party on a warm day. Or maybe a small dance party in the moonlight for just a few friends,’ she said, watching the way the breeze danced on the flowers.
‘A home where one’s true friends could gather would be a wondrous thing indeed. I have lived in camp tents so much of late, that—’ He broke off with a rueful laugh. ‘Forgive me, Miss Manning, I must be so boring. I get carried away with my own thoughts far too often these days.’
‘I’m not bored at all,’ Mary said. Rather, she was most fascinated by this tiny glimpse of the man behind the heroic Lord Sebastian Barrett. A man who might long for a real home just as she did.
‘Once, while we were camped at a field in the middle of nowhere, I saw a constellation of stars I had never noticed before,’ he said. ‘Like a diamond necklace, all sparkling against the darkness. It was wondrous.’
He looked up into the sky and Mary did the same. The darkness was just as it always was in London—hazy, with only a few very bold stars managing to peek through. Yet she could imagine what he had once seen in that field. A dazzling sparkle of lights blazing their way across a black-velvet sky, before the unimaginable carnage of a battlefield.
‘Do you ever dream of what it might be like to float up there among the stars, all untethered from—everything,’ she said fancifully. She was surprised at herself, at her sudden dreams. ‘To just—be.’
He looked down at her. He looked surprised, too, his smile so very real this time. He slowly nodded. ‘Of course. Especially here in London.’
‘Here?’ she asked. ‘Not on campaign?’
His smile turned lopsided, his eyes distant. ‘It sounds strange, I know. But with my regiment, I knew what was expected of me, what I was meant to do and how to do it well. I knew what was thought of me, what I thought of the world around me. Here—here I seem to know so little. It’s London that has become the alien world.’
Mary nodded. It was how she had felt for so long, ever since they came back to London, that she no longer knew where her place was. ‘I have never been in battle, thankfully, but it’s been a long time since I lived in London. My father and I have been our own small world for so long, the one thing I take from place to place, and it’s hard to know quite what to do now. I know I am English, that this is meant to be my home, yet—’
She broke off, unsure of what she was saying. These were thoughts she had kept pressed down so hard, not even daring to think them to herself. Her father had enough to worry about—what with losing her beloved mother and the vital importance of his work, he couldn’t worry about her, too.
Yet the strangeness of being back in England, the lonely moments—how could anyone understand?
But it seemed that, of all people, the handsome Sebastian Barrett did understand. His smile widened, a gorgeous white flash in the shadows, and he nodded. ‘It’s as if everyone here was speaking a foreign language, one I can only decipher on the surface and speak well enough to play my part passably.’
Mary was fascinated. He was the hero of society! How could he be lost? Yet she could see the dark gleam in his eye. ‘What part is that, Lord Sebastian?’
He leaned his forearms on the marble balustrade and stared out at the dark garden. ‘Oh, we all have our parts here, don’t you agree, Miss Manning? Most people have played them so long they can’t even look past them any longer. They have become what they are meant to be. When I was with my regiment, I felt that sense of rightness, that sense that I knew my duty and could carry it out well. It was a feeling everyone should have at some time in their lives, even though it might mean others then carry far too many expectations. But some of us do wonder what it would be like to float among the stars and just be, as you say.’
‘Free to find our real selves?’ Mary thought that a most astonishing, and delightful, idea. She longed to know more of his life in the Army, more of what that feeling of ‘rightness’ could entail.
‘What would you do, then, Miss Manning?’
She studied him in the half-light, the sculpted angles of his handsome face, then glanced back up at the sky. ‘I hardly know. I have worked for my family for so long.’
‘So you would be a diplomat, like your father?’
Mary laughed. ‘There are certainly things I do like about my father’s work. Doing good for one’s country, seeking peace, seeing fascinating places, meeting different people—I do like those. But there is one thing I wish was different.’
‘And what is that?’
Mary smiled up at him. Could he be truly interested in her own musings, her own inner thoughts? He looked back down at her, his smile vanished. ‘A real home. We have moved about so much, I can’t even remember what a place that was truly my own would be like.’
‘A cottage in the woods?’
‘Perhaps,’ she answered with a laugh. ‘A half-timbered cottage, with a little rose garden, perhaps a cat on the front steps. Or maybe a shining white castle on a mountaintop. A place for a large family.’
‘A family,’ he murmured and Mary was sure she saw a strange shadow cross his face.
‘What would you want, Lord Sebastian?’
He laughed, that shadow gone before she was even sure she saw it. ‘A castle on a mountain sounds rather ideal. A place far from my family.’
Mary was suddenly reminded he was Lord Henry Barrett’s brother, and she shivered guiltily. ‘Are you not happy to be back with your family now?’
‘As happy as most people are with their families, I would imagine, Miss Manning. I am very glad of the friends and parties I have found in London, the distractions.’
Mary stared out into the garden. ‘Diversion, yes. You don’t have to stay out here with me, Lord Sebastian. I know many people will want to talk to you tonight.’
He gave her another smile, one so sweet, so alluring, it made her fall back against the chilly stone balustrade, unsure her legs would hold her upright now.
‘But I like it better here, talking to one person,’ he said. ‘You are most unexpected, Miss Manning.’
‘Me? Unexpected?’ she said, surprised. He was certainly the one who was unexpected—and even more intriguing than he had been before. There seemed to be so much hidden behind his dashing façade. ‘On the contrary, Lord Sebastian. I am most ordinary.’
‘Ordinary is certainly the very last thing you are.’ He reached for her hand, holding it gently between his fingers, as if it was a delicate, precious piece of glass. ‘Is it so unbelievable that I would rather be out here talking to you, watching the stars with you, than be packed into a crowded ballroom?’
Mary couldn’t stop staring at his hand on hers. His was so strong, sun-browned and scarred, against her white glove. ‘Yes,’ she blurted.
He laughed and raised her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. His mouth was warm and surprisingly soft through her thin glove, making her shiver. He looked so golden in the moonlight, so like a dream.
‘How little you do know me, Miss Manning,’ he said. Something like a flash of sadness, regret, passed over his face.
‘I don’t know you at all, surely, Lord Sebastian.’ And now she wanted to—all too much.
‘I feel as if I no longer know myself at all. I have done some wretched things, I fear,’ he said, pressing her palm to his cheek.
‘Wretched?’ Mary whispered. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
He shook his head. ‘I wish I could tell you—and I hope you never know. Yet I think you should see something...’
His expression looked so very far away, Mary was overwhelmed with the feeling of a bittersweet melancholy. She only knew she wanted to make him feel better, soothe whatever pain it was that seemed to burrow inside of him, beyond that golden beauty.
She didn’t know what else to do, so she went up on tiptoe and kissed him. She knew little of kissing outside of books, so her touch was soft, tentative, full of the hope she could distract him. But his lips parted under hers as his breath caught in surprise and the taste of him filled her with a warm rush of delight.
His hands closed over her shoulders and at first she feared he might push her away. Then he groaned, a hungry, wild sound deep in his throat, and his arms came around her in a hard embrace. He dragged her closer to his hard, warm chest and she went most willingly.
His mouth hardened on hers, his tongue tracing the soft curve of her lips before plunging inside to taste her deeply, hungrily. She wanted so much, more of him. She had never felt like that before, as if she soared up into the stars in truth.
She felt him press her back against the balustrade, his open mouth sliding from hers to trace her jaw, her arched neck. He touched the sensitive little spot behind her ear lightly with the tip of his tongue, making her laugh.
How wondrous kissing was! Why had she not known that before? Or was it only him that made it so wonderful? She reached up to twine her fingers in his hair and pulled him up to kiss her lips again. He went most eagerly, his kisses catching fire with a need that made her own burn even hotter.
‘Mary,’ he whispered against her skin and the one word was so full of deep hidden meaning.
She pressed herself even closer to him, wanting to be nearer and nearer. Wanting so much of—she knew not what. She had fallen into the stars.
‘Oh, bravo, Sebastian! That was quick work indeed.’
The sudden sound of a gleeful voice felt like a shower of cold water raining down on the golden sunshine of that kiss. Mary stumbled back from Sebastian and would have fallen over the balustrade if he hadn’t still held on to her arm. She physically ached, as if she had taken a sudden and sharp tumble.
She peered past his shoulder to find three men watching them—Lord Paul Gilesworth, Nicholas Warren and Lord James Sackville, who had been with Sebastian at Lady Alnworth’s house. It was Giles who had spoken and he watched them with a most repulsive, artificial smile. Mr Warren, to his dubious credit, looked red-faced and appalled, while Lord James laughed.
Mary shook her head. This was surely a nightmare. It simply had to be. Only a moment before, she had felt more burningly alive than ever before. Now she felt cold, distant from the whole scene before her, as if she watched it in a play.
What had seemed such a sparkling, wondrous fairy tale had become something strange and ugly. She closed her eyes and prayed for delivery from that bad dream. She felt his hand on her arm and even it was not like before. Now it felt like a shackle.
When she opened her eyes, it was all still there. The men looking at her, Gilesworth looking horribly triumphant. She was trapped, frozen. After so many years of being proper, being careful, she had made one small misstep and been caught. It was a horrible feeling.
She waited for Sebastian to say something, for the appalling embarrassment to vanish, but that one terrible instant seemed to stretch on and on.
Then Gilesworth’s words, all his words, crashed into her mind.
Quick work indeed.
Could that mean—was it really possible? Had Sebastian meant to seduce her into kissing him, for the amusement of his friends?
She swung around to look at him, horrified. He stared back at her, his face wary, unreadable. The man who had talked to her of the stars, who had listened to her confidences and kissed her so sweetly, had vanished.
‘Is...is it...’ she stammered. She wasn’t even sure what she was trying to say. Every word she ever knew had fled from her mind. She felt her cheeks flame with red-hot shame, yet at the same time she was frozen. She could only stare up at Sebastian. She couldn’t see his eyes in the shadows.
‘You should be quite proud, Miss Manning, to have gained the attention of such a hero as our Lord Sebastian,’ Gilesworth said smugly. ‘We weren’t sure the two of you really had it in you to be so bold. But I see that for fifty guineas...’
Fifty guineas? Were they paying Sebastian to kiss her?
Fool, fool, her mind screamed at her. She had never felt so silly, so stupid before in her life.
‘Mary, no, please...’ Sebastian began, his voice rough and hoarse.
But Mary couldn’t bear to hear him say anything, for him to make excuses or, far worse, laugh at her. She felt like the sky, so beautiful with those shimmering stars, was crashing atop her.
She shook her head and pulled her arm free of his touch. What had felt so warm, so safe, now felt like ice. She couldn’t bear to be near him a moment longer, to face the laughter of his friends. She spun around and ran towards the doors into the ballroom, hardly knowing where she was going. She heard Gilesworth’s laughter chasing her.
Only when she saw the bright lights, the blur of the spinning dancers, did she realise she was in no fit state to face a crowd. Even if word of that kiss, that horrid bet, spread, she would have to hold her head up in a dignified play-act. She veered around to the side of the house and found a footman to direct her to the ladies’ retiring room.
It was thankfully quiet in the small sitting room. Mary ducked behind a screen to take a deep breath, to close her eyes and try to slow down her racing thoughts. As she smoothed her hair and straightened her skirt, she heard the door open and other ladies’ gowns rustling into the room amid a cloud of laughter. She had to compose herself, then find her father and go home immediately.
The most handsome rogue in London. Mary bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud in a rather bitter fashion. They were utterly right, on both counts. Sebastian Barrett was devilishly handsome—and a terrible rogue, with no concern for ladies’ feelings. Mary was sure she should have realised that, should have realised that his attentions were all a terrible jest. Men like him had no interest in women like her.
She would never forget that again.
* * *
‘Mary!’ Sebastian called, but she was already gone, vanished into the darkness of the evening like a fluttering pink butterfly. His own head felt cursedly clouded, hazy with the unexpected delight of that kiss, and he wasn’t fast enough to catch her. He had started to tell her the truth, had wanted to tell her, and yet it all came much too late.
Gilesworth caught Sebastian’s arm as he started after her, and tossed a heavy purse of clanking coins at his chest. Sebastian let them fall to the terrace stones as he stared into Gilesworth’s smirking face.
How had he ever befriended such a man, even in his desperation to forget battle? He had let boredom draw him into a vile scheme and now he bitterly rued the day.
All he could see was Mary’s face, pale and shocked in the moonlight as she ran away from him. For one perfect moment, as he held her slender, trembling body in his arms, he had forgotten the men he had lost in battle, forgotten his family and London society, and the terrible, numb aimlessness of life. She made him forget, made things seem new and bright again.
It was something he hadn’t expected at all, something startling. That awakening to sensation again, with the soft touch of her lips, the faint scent of her sweet rose perfume. And it had been shattered all too quickly, snatched away, and he had little but himself to blame. He had taken Gilesworth’s ridiculous wager, and now he had wounded the sweetest lady he had ever met.
He reached out and grabbed Gilesworth by the front of his immaculate evening coat, erasing the man’s hideous smirk.
‘You will never speak of this to anyone,’ Sebastian said, in a low, steady voice. He wouldn’t let his burning anger overwhelm him now; he had to help Mary however he could and stemming any gossip was only the first step. ‘If I even hear that you have so much as uttered Miss Manning’s name, I shall make you sorry you were ever born.’
Gilesworth’s self-satisfied smirk vanished, replaced by fear barely masked by a scowl. ‘Now, listen here, Barrett. It was all just a bit of fun, and you—’
‘It is in no way a “bit of fun”, and I was a bloody, foxed fool to ever involve myself in such a vile scheme,’ Sebastian said. Inside, the dark flood of self-disgust threatened to drown him, but outwardly he stayed cold and calm. It was the hard lesson of battle. ‘But it is over now. You will leave Miss Manning in peace. Is that understood?’
He swept a cold glance over all of them. Lord James swallowed hard and nodded, and Nicholas Warren looked red-faced and appalled. Gilesworth scowled, as if he would argue and force Sebastian to challenge him to a duel or something equally ridiculous, but when Sebastian’s fist tightened in the twist of his coat, he sullenly agreed.
Sebastian pushed the man away and hurried to the house to find Mary. She was nowhere to be seen in the ballroom, and her friend Lady Louisa said she thought Mary had already summoned her carriage to return home.
Her smile turned teasing as she looked up at him. ‘But I am sure if she knew you were looking for her, she would never have left so quickly.’
Sebastian knew he had to neutralise any gossip now, even with Mary’s friends. He smiled back at her, a careless, casual smile. ‘I had hoped for a dance with Miss Manning, but I see I was too slow. At the next ball, then.’