Page 69 of If the Duke Demands

She placed a soft kiss at his temple, and he closed his eyes, drinking in the sympathy and solace she offered.

“I understand,” she whispered. He was certain she did. Miranda had a way of understanding him better than anyone else. But when she slipped her arms around his neck to pull herself closer, guilt surged through him that even now she worried about him slipping away and leaving her. “But something tells me it’s more than that which troubles you.” She brushed her fingertips through his hair at his temple. “What is it? What’s making you so unhappy?”

He sucked in a deep breath, suddenly shaken that she was able to see into his heart so easily. “I made a promise to my father when he was awarded the dukedom that I would do everything in my power to make myself worthy of the Carlisle legacy.”

“You have,” she told him softly. “Your father was always so proud of you. Oh, he loved Robert and Quinn, and Josie was always precious to him, butyou, Sebastian…” She trailed her fingertips along the side of his face. “When he looked at you, his eyes would shine with pride, and his chest would swell. If he could see you now, he would be so proud of the respect you’ve brought to your family, all the good you’ve done for the estate tenants and the villagers, the responsibilities you’re taking on in Parliament for England.”

Instead of comforting him, her words only stirred a wretchedness inside him, one he’d been fighting to quell since his father died and his life ceased being his own. “You don’t understand. He expected me to be selfless in every decision, to put the dukedom before everything else, including my own wants.”

“He didn’t mean before your happiness.” She shook her head. “He certainly never thought that holding you to that promise would make you unhappy or—” Her voice broke, and she finished softly, “Marry a woman you don’t love.”

He took her hand and brought it down to his chest, pressing it over his heart, where he was certain she could feel its beat beneath her fingertips. And where he hoped she would ease his anguish as he admitted bitterly, “Perhaps not…but he certainly wanted respectability. At all costs.”

Her fingers tensed in his, and he felt her draw a sharp breath.

“Right after he was awarded the dukedom, Mother fell ill, do you remember?” he asked gently.

“Yes.” She squeezed his hand in empathy, and a rush of comfort seeped through him from that small gesture. But not nearly enough to compensate for the anguish of the memories he was sharing with her.

“When Father came to tell me, he found me with a woman. One he did not approve of, and one he thought was not worthy of our family.”

“You were planning on marrying her?”

“No,” he told her as gently as possible, knowing how much this might damn him in her eyes, “because she was already married.”

Sebastian held his breath and waited for her response, but thankfully, she said nothing, although he deserved any disparaging remark she might have leveled on him. But of course, Miranda would never have done that. She was always kind, especially when he didn’t deserve it.

He let out his breath in a long sigh. “Mother recovered, and Father and I had a long talk about my responsibility to the family and our legacy, to the title and its responsibilities. That was when I made my promise to him, but even then I didn’t realize the full meaning behind it, or the effect it would come to have on my life. I was a Carlisle, after all. I wasn’t going to listen to reason, not when it concerned the women with whom I was intimate. So I kept doing what I did before, only I was much more careful to hide my tracks.” He folded his hand around hers and held tight as he murmured, “So careful, in fact, that the night my father fell from his horse and hit his head, no one could find me. I was hidden away for the evening, this time with an actress I’d met at Covent Garden. By the time I arrived back here at Park Place, Father was dead, and I never had the chance to say good-bye.”

“Oh, Sebastian,” she breathed, so grief-stricken for him that she couldn’t find her voice. She wrapped both of her arms tightly around him and rested her cheek against his. He felt the wet of her tears on his cheek, but instead of increasing the guilt and anguish inside him, her tears were an absolution for the raw wounds he’d carried inside him for the past two years.

“His death changed everything.” He paused, then repeated gravely, “Everything.”

Her fingers stiffened in his, and he knew she understood his underlying meaning as she slowly sat back and swiped at her eyes with her free hand. “That’s why you think you have to marry someone like Lady Jane,” she breathed, so softly he could barely hear her, but each word ripped into his heart as painfully as if she’d sunk her fingernails into his chest. “Because of what happened that night.”

“I owe it to my father to find a good duchess,” he said quietly.

“You owe it to yourself to be happy, no matter whom you marry.” She inhaled a deep, ragged breath and offered, as if trying to convince both of them, “Your father would want that.”

“I’ll be happy enough.” His happiness was not a consideration. Robert could court and marry Diana Morgan simply because he fancied her, and Quinn could spend his life as a confirmed bachelor. But not him. Even before he decided to find a wife this season, he knew the choice in brides would not be his own. Happiness, and certainly not love, would never enter into his decision.

“You’ve settled on Jane Sheridan, then.” Her whisper was not a question.

When she tried to slip her hand from his, his fingers tightened around hers, refusing to let her go. For tonight, at least, she was his. “No. I’ve decided not to pursue her.”

Her lips parted with surprise. “You’ve given up looking for a wife?” Her voice held a timbre of hope, and that pierced him with more shame than anything she’d said before.

“No.” Then, because he wanted no secrets between them, owing her at least that much respect, he added, “I still need to find a wife by season’s end.”

And then Miranda would be lost to him forever. He wouldn’t make her his mistress, and once he took his vows, he would never go outside his marriage. He wanted the same kind of marriage his parents had, one of loyalty and fidelity, trust and comfort, and if he didn’t love his wife when he married her, well, that would come in time. But he would have the marriage that the title needed.

So why did he feel as if he were about to lose everything?

When he saw the crestfallen expression flit across her face, he told her, “Enough—I don’t want to talk about marriage anymore.” He squeezed her hand. “Not tonight.”

Gratefully, a soft happiness returned to her eyes as she gazed down at him. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

“Well, if we have totalk,” he teased seductively as he turned toward her, “then I’d much rather talk about you.”