Perfect Bride (16 page)

But now, with the night almost ended, she swal
lowed a pang. To fall in love with a man like Sebastian...that would be unwise, she told herself. Very, very unwise. For Sebastian was as far above her as a star glittering high in a moonlit sky.

And she was just a pebble in the mire.

As for the kiss they’d shared, no wonder he’d apologized. She was a fool to think it had been any
thing beyond a whim.

She would do well to remember that.

few days later Sebastian entered the library to find Devon sitting in a chair, her legs dangling over the side. “My dear, a lady always has her feet on the ground.” “And a gentleman is never without his coat.” She glanced pointedly at his forearms, bare where he’d rolled up his sleeves.

“Touché.” He cocked a brow but made no effort to slip on his coat, which lay draped over the chair be
hind his desk. He seated himself, then looked her over. “A bit testy today, are we?”

Her eyes flashed.

“Perhaps luncheon didn’t agree with you then?”

There was no reply. She was supposed to be study
ing her geography. She’d spent much of the morning at the writing table, staring into space, an expression of consternation on her lovely features.

Rising from his desk, he moved to the globe along
side it. “Devon?” He gestured her forward.

With a sigh she rose.

“Where is the Cape of Good Hope?”

She gestured vaguely in the vicinity of the North Pole.

“Interesting,” he commented dryly. “That was not where it was yesterday.”

Her mouth turned down. “What does it matter? I’m never going there anyway.”

This was serious, he decided.

“Very well, then. Show me where London is. I know you’ve been there.”

Grudgingly she made a tiny circle with a fingertip.

“Very good,” he approved.

Devon didn’t look at him. The set of her shoul
ders was stiff. She seemed very unlike herself; she’d been subdued of late, without her usual brimming vibrance.

“Are you ill, Devon?”

“No. And you are growing quite tiresome, sir.”

“And you are being quite inattentive.”

At least he’d managed to gain her attention.

Her gaze finally swung to his. “Why are you both
ering with this, Sebastian? With me? After you come home from your parties in the evening, you’re up until the wee hours of the morning. I know. I’ve seen the light burning under the door.”

He subjected her to a cautiously guarded scrutiny. The faint shadows beneath her eyes bore out the fact that she wasn’t sleeping. So she hadn’t ceased her nocturnal wandering. He wasn’t about to challenge her now, not in the mood she was in.

“I like the night,” he said lightly. “I always have.”

True as the statement was, it was clear he hadn’t convinced her.

Yet there was no question it was difficult to attend to work during their lessons. Sometimes when she stood bent over the long, mahogany table at the cen
ter of the room, he eyed that delectable little bottom swaying first one way, then the other, her brow fur
rowed in concentration. She didn’t want him looking at her breasts, so he contented himself with the view at hand.

But it was more than that.

The duties that had always been so important to him were almost an afterthought. He’d far rather spend time with Devon than at the social affairs that demanded his presence so he could search for a bride. With Devon, there was no need to stand on so
cial graces or formality. He didn’t have to stand be
hind his title. As for Devon, well, she was certainly never boring. No matter her lack of knowledge; she was keenly intelligent and had only to gain it. She didn’t mince words and she didn’t hide behind in
cessant chatter, simpering laughter, and empty, mindless conversation. She was entertaining as no other woman had ever been.

He didn’t want to give that up—thus his late hours. And he wasn’t about to set her aside. Until now she had reveled in her studies.

“This isn’t about me,” he said. “I thought you en
joyed learning.”

“I do.”

A grudging, less than enthusiastic response—and one she wouldn’t have made two weeks ago. He frowned. “You’ve been acting strangely these last few days. What’s wrong?”

Her gaze slid away. “Nothing,” she said in a small voice.

“I know you better than that,” he said firmly. “Have you changed your mind? I thought you wanted to be a governess.”

“I do. But . . .”

The hesitation declared her misery, which in turn played on his heartstrings. Bracing his hip against his desk, he reached for her, catching his fingers around hers and tugging her close.

“But what?” His gaze roved over her features.
Soft, pink lips compressed tightly.
“Devon—” he began in soft warning.
“Oh, all right! If you must know, I—I can’t sing.”
Sebastian blinked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. If I ever did, there would be a
stampede through the doors and into the streets.” For a heartbeat Sebastian simply stared at her
dumbly. Then understanding dawned. “You heard Penelope.” She nodded miserably. He wanted very much to laugh, but for the sake of
his own preservation, suspected he didn’t dare. “Dev
on,” he said carefully, “few can sing like Penelope.” His tack didn’t appear to be working. Perhaps en
couragement was what was needed. He tried again. “It may be that you just think you
can’t sing.” “No,” she said almost frantically. “I can’t. Listen.” She commenced a quavering, cracking melody.

Sebastian hastily extinguished what he feared she might construe—and rightly so!—as a look of pain. In the corner Beast sat up and howled.

Sebastian shot the mongrel a quelling look.

Devon had finished and now gazed at him expec
tantly. Sebastian took in the discouraged slump of her shoulders. By Jove, he needed to tread more care
fully than ever right now. Her ego seemed particu
larly fragile.

“Devon, there’s more to being a lady than the abil
ity to sing.”

“Yes,” she said bitterly, “I know.”

“Perhaps your talent lies in the pianoforte—”

“Perhaps I have no talent at all.”

He studied her. “Odd. I didn’t think you were the type to give in so easily.”

“Give in, give up, I daresay I’m doing neither. I’m being honest. You value honesty, don’t you?”

“Most highly.”

“Then stop trying to goad me.”

“I am hardly trying to—”

“Please, Sebastian, let me finish. It’s not just Pene
lope. I saw the ladies at your dinner party. And I can never be a lady like that. Ever,” she said fiercely. “I’m not sulking. I’m not envious—or perhaps I am! Oh, I know as a governess I wouldn’t be privy to such af
fairs. I’m aware a governess or companion can never aspire to climb to the same scale as society’s upper crust. But if I am to teach their children, or sit as com
panion to some rich old woman, I must have the proper deportment—”

“You’ll
have
the proper deportment if you sit up straight.”

“It’s not just that.” She waved a finger at the globe, the volumes spread out on the tabletop. Her features grew pained. “It’s everything. I can’t sew; how the devil can I learn to embroider? I helped my mother
with a gown once, and ended up sewing the sleeves up tight as a drum! I’ll never be able to sketch, there’s no sense in even trying—I’ll likely vex your poor sis ter into a premature grave! I’ll never learn French. I’m still trying to read our own language.” Her voice broke ever so slightly. She steadied it before going on bravely. “I don’t think I have a prayer, Sebastian. I thought I could do this. But there’s so very much to learn—”

“Devon, hush.”

“Sebastian, I—”

“
Hush
.”

Her lovely lips were quivering. Sebastian’s heart contracted.

“Listen to me, Devon,” he said softly, “and listen well. I am ever so pleased at the inroads you’ve made in your education. It’s truly quite amazing.”

She gave a tiny shake of her head. “You’re just say
ing that.”

“No.” He was adamant. “I am not. I believe you’re simply feeling overwhelmed. It’s not surprising, re
ally. You’ve taken in an incredible amount of knowl
edge in a very short time. What has it been? A little over a month since we began? No more than that, surely.”

With a fingertip, he traced the two faint lines etched between the delicate bridge of her nose. “Now,” he said gravely. “Have I made you feel better?”

Her eyes clung to his, as if to seek whether he spoke sincerely. She must have been satisfied, for at last she nodded. “Yes, you have.” Her tone was solemn, but her lips had curled up in a wispy smile. “You always do.”

Sebastian caught his breath. He wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to kiss her quite badly. But she might think his only intention was to have his way with her, and he didn’t want that.

His eyes slid from her, to the globe, and back again. He’d traveled the world over. He’d ridden camels in Egypt. Sweated and steamed in India. Yes
terday he’d shown her all the places in the world he’d traveled to.

St. Giles was the only world Devon had ever known.

My God
, he thought,
she’s been to hell and back.

“Straighten your spine and take a deep, invigorat
ing breath, my dear. Because I think I know some
thing that will make you feel even better.”

He led her into the entrance hall, where he called for the carriage and her cloak.

“Sebastian!” She blinked. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going out,” he announced.

Her eyes widened. “Out! Where?”

Placing a dainty hand in the crook of his elbow, he smothered it with his own. “To see the world you’ve never seen.”

The coach rolled into the countryside where the air was warm and sweet and the skies blue and brilliant. Devon sat with her nose pressed to the window, ut
terly entranced by the scenery rushing by outside. Sebastian sat next to her, utterly entranced by
her
.

In a small, picturesque little village outside Lon
don, they took supper at a charming roadside inn. She ate with gusto, her spirit regained. She was ani
mated and lively, and Sebastian was heartily glad he’d taken her away for the day. The change in scenery was just what she needed after being stifled in such close quarters for so long.

It was dark when they arrived back in the city. Passing through Grosvenor Square, she twisted her head to look at the sprawling house at the end of the square. He laughed to himself, for she was frankly gawking.

“My word, it looks like a temple in one of your books!”

“It does,” he agreed. “The dowager duchess of Carrington lives there.”

“Oh, yes, she was at your dinner party the other night. Justin pointed her out.”

Several minutes later they passed by a brick-fronted Georgian town house. “Oh, I adore that one! Who lives there?”

“Viscount Temberly.”

Her mouth promptly turned down at the corners.

“On second thought, it’s quite hideous.”

Sebastian raised his brows. “Now that’s an about-face,” he mused. “Dare I ask why?”