He was shocked by her haggard, tearstained face. There was no vestige of the doll-like prettiness that was part of her appeal. She would not age with grace, like Venetia.
“You haven’t spoken to my father yet?” She sounded breathless.
“I’m sorry, Miss Reeves; I really don’t think—”
“Good!” she cried, covering her face with her hands. “Oh Mr Wells, I’ve just witnessed something horrible. Yes, horrible! Please take me away from here. I want to die!”
This was dramatic enough from anyone, but the fact that it was accompanied by gulping sobs and genuine tears, was sufficiently compelling for Sebastian to accede to at least her initial onslaught of grief as he offered his arm and began to lead her toward the saloon.
“What’s horrible?” he asked. “Why do you want to die?”
“Roberto…” She stabbed her finger in the direction of the room she’d just exited. “Roberto is…” She shook her head as if she could not articulate what she’d just seen, but Sebastian had an inkling.
She must have come upon her true love behaving in a most untrue fashion.
“Who was he with?” Sebastian saw the merit in making her accept the truth rather than trying to smooth over her disappointment.
“He was with...with… Oh, I can’t say!” she wailed.
“You can tell me,” Sebastian prompted. “Better that you say it than pretend it never happened. Who was Signor Boticelli with?”
“He was with Lady Quamby!” Miss Reeves wailed as Sebastian paused before the double doors of the saloon.
“Lady Quamby?” Sebastian was shocked. But only for a moment. And, he supposed, he wasn’t surprised.
“Yes, Lady Quamby! I hate her!”
Sebastian patted her hand soothingly. “I think the time will come when you will be very grateful to Lady Quamby. Now, allow me to remove this last angry tear from your cheek, take a deep breath, and I shall deliver you to someone who I believe will want to comfort you after such a disappointment.” He cleared his throat. “Though perhaps it would be wisest not to mention the exact cause of your disappointment.”
“Who are you taking me to? Not Lord Yarrowby.[BH2] ”
Sebastian nodded.
“But…he’ll just cluck and sympathize like a mother hen and...and tell me that everything will be all right when I know it won’t be.” Arabella sniffed. “Just like he’s done his whole life.”
Sebastian dropped her hand to put away his handkerchief. “And would that be such a bad thing?” he asked with a quizzical look.
Miss Reeves blinked rapidly, frowning as if she hadn’t properly considered the answer to such a question. Her mouth dropped open, and she frowned even more. Then she straightened suddenly, and as the double doors opened before them, she turned to Sebastian and said, quite decisively, “No...no it wouldn’t!”
Chapter 15
Back in the ballroom, Venetia had never felt more miserable in her life. She ought to go to bed and put an end to what was only going to bring more pain.
She certainly ought not to be listening in on other people’s conversations but when she heard Lady Fenton refer to Sebastian as she spoke to her husband, she could not drag herself away.
“So, Fanny, what are you telling me?” Lord Fenton was asking her. “That there will be no announcement regarding Sebastian and Arabella? Or that there might be? Or that there will? Really, you’ve suggested all three possibilities in the one sentence.”
“May I have the pleasure?”
With a start, Venetia found herself looking up into Sebastian’s kind, beautiful eyes. She could not refuse. She did not want to refuse.
Especially when this was the last time she’d be so close to him in a respectable fashion.
In any fashion, she reminded herself with a stab of anger, pain, and disappointment.
“Oh Sebastian, why did you do it?” she asked as he led her onto the dance floor, and he put his hand gently on her waist.
“I don’t know but…just know that I believed I’d lost you forever. And...succumbed in a moment of weakness.” He steered her toward the corner farthest from the crowd. “I’ve never loved anyone as I’ve loved you. I wish you believed that.”