Page 80 of If the Duke Demands

He arched a surprised brow at her odd request, yet did as she asked, splashing a swallow’s worth into a glass and carrying it to her. He couldn’t remember seeing his mother take a drink of the stuff in his life.

She took the brandy from him, and he frowned down at the cold fireplace. “Do you want me to ring for a footman to build a fire?”

She shook her head a bit wistfully. “You know, when I was young, we had to light our own fires.”

With a twist of his mouth, Sebastian took that as his cue. He set his glass on the mantel and took up the poker to stir up the coals.

“There was always work to be done on the farm, so we all had to pitch in and do our share,” she continued, a nostalgic smile pulling at her lips. “Including lighting the fires.”

As the first fingers of flames snaked up from the stirred coals, he reached into the coal bucket and tossed a chunk onto the grate. “I’d forgotten about that, that you grew up on a farm.”

“Not just any farm. Your grandfather was a tenant of the Earl of Spalding, your great uncle.” The faint smile at her lips blossomed into one full of love as she looked up at her late husband’s portrait. “That was how I met your father. Richard had come to the estate to pay his respects to the family for helping him with his army commission, and we met while he was riding up the lane. He was so handsome in his red uniform. I’d never seen another man like him in my life, so tall and imperial. Strong and powerful.” Her smile faded with a touch of melancholy. “And the kindest man I would ever know.”

He returned the poker to the rack and wiped off his hands. His chest tightened to know that he would never have that same connection to the woman he chose to be his wife that his father had with his mother. Already he felt the loss of it as palpably as if he’d lost a limb. “And it was love at first sight.”

“Oh no! Not at all,” she corrected with a faint laugh, surprising him. “There were lots of soldiers in those days, and all of them looked handsome in their uniforms. I was much too shrewd to settle for the first one who came riding along.”

Raising the brandy to his lips, he hid his smile. “Of course.”

“But your father was just as stubborn as I was, and over the next few months, he wore me down until eventually I agreed to marry him.” The growing flames softly lit up the room around them, so that he could see the knowing smile on her face as she stared up at the portrait, still as much in love with her late husband as she’d been the day she married him. “I gave him all the trouble I could, too, in those first days of our courtship to make certain he would be willing to fight for me and stand by my side the way I thought a husband should.”

“It worked,” he commented quietly. His father had been completely devoted to his mother until the day he died.

She turned her head to look at him, and her face softened with concern. She said gently, “I hear there’s a woman putting you through your own troubles.”

He froze, the glass halfway to his lips. Anger flashed through him. “Josie told you,” he muttered. “She had no right.”

“You upset her.”

He guiltily slumped his shoulders. These days it seemed he was upsetting every woman in his life. He blew out a hard breath. “I’ll apologize to her in the morning.”

“That would be gracious of you, but I don’t think she wants an apology as much as to know that you are all right. She was worried about you.” She paused sympathetically. “And about Miranda.”

He stared down at his glass as he rolled it slowly between his palms, watching the way the cognac shined gold-red in the firelight. “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Hmm.” She raised her own glass to her lips to take a tentative sip. “Seems to me there’s a great deal.”

He clenched his jaw, turning his anger onto himself. “It was my fault. I’ll make certain Miranda’s protected. I won’t let her be punished for my mistake.”

“And you, Sebastian?” She thoughtfully traced her fingertip around the rim of her glass as she slid a sideways glance at him. “Shouldyoube punished for daring to care about that girl?”

He held her gaze for a heartbeat, then looked up at his father’s portrait. “Yes.”

He finished off the rest of his brandy in a gasping swallow, but there wasn’t enough cognac in the world to dull the pain. Or ease the guilt.

“I must admit that I was surprised when your sister told me what had happened,” she pressed gently. “Not only that you found Miranda attractive, but that you let yourself be intimate with her.”

Embarrassment surged through him, and he shook his head. “This isnota conversation I should be having with my mother.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement at that. “My dear boy, where do you think you came from—a stork?”

“Yes,” he agreed quickly with a very arched brow. Good Lord, he desperately needed more brandy. “Yes, I did. So did all my siblings.” He paused to consider…“Except for Quinton, who was left by gypsies.”

She smiled at that. Thankfully letting go ofthataspect of the conversation, she turned her gaze back to the portrait.

Several moments of silence passed. Her smile faded as she commented thoughtfully, “She must mean a great deal to you if you’re this troubled.”

“She does,” he answered quietly. There was no point in lying to his mother. She knew him too well.