“Not the point, Spence,” Sebastian snapped.
“No, the real point is the fact that her parents want to marry her off to the Duke of Lancaster.”
Spencer swore.
Their mother sat back. Her eyebrows raised as she stared at Sebastian.
“So you’re, what, planning to use this poor girl in an effort to get some kind of ill-conceived revenge on the man who fathered us?” Spencer asked.
Sebastian felt his lips curl in response. “That is not at all my plan. This has nothing to do with that arsehole, except to perhaps save this naive woman from marrying him.” He shoved his plate away from him. “Furthermore, they’re not officially betrothed and she does not wish to marry him. I’m simply giving the girl what she wants.”
And taking that which he could not deny himself.
“Out of the benevolence of your heart, I suppose?” Spencer asked.
“No one at this table is under the delusion I’m doing this out of anything resembling kindness. But it’s not about Lancaster either.” At least not entirely, that’s merely a happy side benefit. “I’m intrigued by the woman. I will not deny being attracted to her. I believe this will be a worthwhile activity.”
“How can anyone live the way you live and still complain of boredom?” his brother asked.
“I never said I was bored. I simply require more activity than standing at a bloody canvas all day with only my thoughts to entertain me.” He stood and tossed his napkin on the table. “I have a meeting with some investors at the club.”
“Sebastian, love,” his mother says.
He turned to face her.
“Do be careful. She’s not merely an innocent in her body. You are a beautiful man and certainly if I’ve taught you boys anything it’s that when you are physical with a woman without payment ofany kind, you risk her falling in love with you. So take care with that girl’s heart.”
“I’m not planning to touch her heart, Mother.” With that, he strode from the room.
5
The moment Agatha stepped into the dining room, it was painfully obvious, that this was an ambush. Not only was this “family” dinner blatantly not merely her family, but she suspected she was given a slightly later time so that there would be only one remaining seat left at the dinner table.
Right next to the abhorrent Duke of Lancaster. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why she found him so unappealing. He wasn’t even as old as her deceased husband. He wasn’t unattractive, quite the contrary. For a man likely nearing his fifth decade, he was remarkably fit and well put together. His dark hair was perfectly placed with not even the gleam of too much pomade. Still there was something about the man that Agatha found to be alarmingly unsettling.
Perhaps it was the way his narrow eyes followed her every moment when they were in the same room. The way his tongue would slip out to wet his lips.
She supposed this was the third of fourth time she’d come in contact with him, but her nerves never ceased.
She shot a look at her mother who pretended not to notice. But there was no doubt in Agatha’s mind that this was very much an orchestration of her mother’s doing.
The duke stood and pulled her chair out for her. He even behaved the perfect gentleman, still she knew something wretched hid beneath all his polish.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said as she sat and waited for him to push her seat forward.
Warm, sticky breath hits the exposed skin between her ear and shoulder.
“You look lovely tonight, Agatha,” he said.
A shudder traversed her body and she could do nothing to stop it. Perhaps to an on-looker it might appear to be a reaction to his nearness. Well, that is precisely what it is, but it’s not a good reaction.
Not at all the way her body lit up with pleasant shivers simply from hearing Sebastian St. Claire’s voice. She really must push that man out of her mind. She could not afford to get distracted by a man and a situation that wouldn’t solve her current problem.
There are two other couples at the table besides her parents, all married. And then her and the duke. He leans closer, draping her napkin across her lap, lingering with his arm entirely too close to her breasts. Yes, her chest was completely covered, not even a hint of cleavage. She was still wearing her mourning garb. No reason to buy new clothes at the moment, when these were still in perfectly good shape. And she hadn’t worn her veil, merely a black gown. One with fabric all the way up to her neck.
She grabbed the bottom of her seat and pushed herself forward, effectively jarring his arm so he moved away. She resettled her napkin. After the footman served her plate, she immediately dove in. Chewing meant she wouldn’t have to converse.
So for the better part of an hour she sat there next to the duke and amidst all of these other married couples over-chewing her food while nodding politely. No doubt she looked every part of the glutton, shoveling bite after bite of food into her mouth all in an effort to avoid a simple conversation.