The study’s door creaked when it opened, revealing the pale face of William Wentworth, who invited the pair in with a gruff wave of his hand.
He only spoke once they were seated.
“I do not like what happened,” he said, his voice low and measured. “Though I suppose, there is no point going on about it now. What is done is done.”
Sebastian grimaced at this. “Of course,” he started, but William gave no indication at all of hearing him.
“So, the easiest way to solve this, of course, would be for you to marry Caroline rather than Beatrice.”
Sebastian did not even try to hide his scowl at this. “Daughters,” he muttered irritably. “So interchangeable, are they not?”
Once more, William ignored him—though a cold look from his own father showed Sebastian that his comment did not go unnoticed. He let out an annoyed sigh.
“I would like to talk to both ladies,” he attempted now, biting on his teeth when both William and Fitzgerald let out condescending laughs.
“Surely, if a woman is going to be my wife, I should be afforded the opportunity to talk to her!” Sebastian tried again and William shook his head.
“You have done enough talking—and touching,” he said tiredly, causing Sebastian to fold his arms across his chest.
“Well,” he huffed, his temper boiling. “Had I known that my bride would change and I’d be kept from her, I may have touched some more.”
Fitzgerald’s eyes shone murder and he leaned forward in an attempt to block his son from William.
“He will not talk to either of your daughters without your express permission,” he insisted, and William nodded.
“The girls,” he said coldly, “will accept my decision.”
It took all of Sebastian’s self control to refrain from asking if the women had a say in the matter. So he sat back and stared at his hands.
“So. It is settled?” William asked, though there was not much of a question in his voice. “You will marry my other daughter?”
“Yes, my lord. Either or,” Sebastian answered petulantly, causing his father to glare at him once more. Sebastian, however, could not find it within himself to care.
“The wedding must take place sooner rather than later,” William went on, directing his words to Fitzgerald rather than Sebastian. Fitzgerald nodded before Sebastian had a chance to respond.
“Of course—we will say that they were engaged all along, privately of course.”
Sebastian zoned out as the two men spoke—he knew full well that his opinion was not needed and as such, speaking would be useless. Instead he sat, pretended to listen, and nodded every now and then.
In truth, he was not too bothered by who he was told to marry—it was the how, rather, that bothered him.
Marrying in itself was not the problem—it was annoying to be married, he thought, as it was a rather constraining endeavor. However, he was not particularly fond of the idea of being married because of a scandal.
He only became aware of the fact that the men had finished talking when they stood, and he jumped to his feet as well—following his father out of the study silently.
He hated being silent about his life. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to rage and scream—but he knew he had no voice.
William and Fitzgerald shook hands, though William merely glared at Sebastian’s offered hand as though it was dirty—and the latter followed his father outside quietly. It happened as hemoved to step inside the carriage. It was a movement that caught his eye, across the lawn.
Beatrice, he recognized, staring at him haughtily. She looked away and he let out a sigh—there was no doubt that she was furious. His gaze drifted to the other end of the garden where Caroline stood. Once more, the memory of her body pressed intimately against his, rushed back to him and his gaze traveled over her figure slowly. The material hugged the curves of her breasts before falling loosely from the rest of her body.
As though she had felt his intimate gaze on her, she looked up—their eyes meeting. Guilt replaced his memory when he took stock of her properly—her eyes were almost too large in her face and even from the distance he could see her hand trembling with nervous energy.
Without his express awareness, his lips curved into somewhat of a smile—a silent attempt to reassure her.
Then he climbed into the carriage and the door slammed shut, hiding his future wife from him.
Chapter 7
