Page 41 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

“What letter?” Miss Whitley asked, her eyes widening.

“I sent one to our brother this morning,” Sarah said brightly.

Miss Whitley and the other two girls stared at her in evident shock, the boldness of the declaration settling over the room like a sudden hush.

“My lord, please forgive Sarah,” Darcy began, alarm sharpening her voice. “I shall remind her how she must address you.”

“It is of no consequence,” he said, more gruffly than intended. “Within these walls, she may call me Sebastian.”

He did not like the way Sarah’s expression faltered, the brightness dimming into something uncertain. Neither did he like the tension in Miss Whitley’s bearing or the flicker of fear she could not conceal.

Was he such an ogre that she should expect reproach for so small a thing? He frowned, recalling that he had forbidden any mention of their connection beyond these walls. A careless slip before a servant might invite gossip, and gossip born below stairs seldom remained there.

Most perplexingly, he did not wish Darcy to correct the child, not when Sarah looked so anxious. Bloody hell. He raked a hand through his hair, disturbing the careful arrangement of it. Their emotional well-being was not his concern. His responsibilities lay with his mother and Caroline. Against all reason, their happiness had begun to matter as well. What a damned complication they were proving to be.

“As it happens,” he said, turning slightly to address all four ladies, “I have arranged a private viewing at the British Museum this afternoon and thought to inquire whether you might accompany me. If the excursion pleases you, we might also visit the menagerie at the Tower next week.”

The effect was immediate. Sarah gave a small cry of delight. Jane’s composure softened into unmistakable pleasure. Even Emelia, reserved as she often was, could not conceal the light that entered her expression.

“Oh, yes,” Emelia said, her voice carrying a rare note of excitement. “I have read of the exhibits, but I have never seen them for myself.”

He had originally made the arrangements with Caroline before she decided to accompany their mother to Bath. At the delighted reactions of the girls, Sebastian found himself rather glad he had not thought to cancel them.

Darcy did not immediately speak. Sebastian’s attention returned to her, noting the careful restraint in her expression, the way she seemed to weigh the invitation against considerations he could not yet discern.

“You need not feel obliged,” he said, more quietly. Her gaze met his, searching and uncertain, yet warmed by an attraction she could not entirely conceal.

“We would be most pleased to accept, my lord,” she said at last.

And though the words were measured, the faint warmth beneath them did not escape him.

Sebastian inclined his head. “Then you had best make haste. I have secured the keeper’s indulgence for this afternoon, but I doubt even an earl can persuade antiquity to wait forever.”

The younger girls needed no further prompting, and the room soon filled with a bustle of hurried movement and excited voices.

Sebastian remained where he stood, his gaze lingering briefly but deliberately upon Darcy. He knew when a woman was drawn to him. The signs were seldom concealed from him: the softened gaze and the quiet quickening of breath. He saw it in her now, a fleeting brightness in her eyes before she lowered her lashes as though to deny him the satisfaction of seeing it.

His heart gave a traitorous thud. The madness, it seemed, was not his alone, and for the first time Sebastian wondered whether he wished to be cured of it.

CHAPTER 15

Nearly two hours later, Sebastian escorted the four ladies into the British Museum. The vast halls opened before them in a quiet grandeur that seemed to command both curiosity and reverence. Sebastian followed at a measured pace as the keeper’s assistant conducted them through the collection. He had seen it many times: as a boy at his father’s side, enduring lectures to which he had scarcely attended; with his mother, who admired refinement and expected the same of her children; with Caroline, whose curiosity had once been as bright as that of the girls before him; and later alone, when the museum had offered a quiet reprieve from society’s demands.

Today, however, the familiar galleries seemed entirely different. The attendant spoke of ancient civilizations and the significance of the relics displayed within the glass cases and upon the pedestals. Greek and Roman figures stood in pale, timeless elegance, their marble forms preserving a beauty that had outlived the hands that shaped them. Egyptian antiquities lined the far wall: dark stone figures, intricate carvings, and funerary objects carrying the weight of centuries.

Sarah’s soft gasp drew his attention. Jane leaned closer to a case of coins and medals, her brow furrowed in earnest interest as the guide explained their origins. Emelia lingered before a collection of terracottas, her gaze thoughtful, almost reverent.

Their wonder was unfeigned.

“They are beautiful,” Sarah whispered.

“They are,” Jane agreed, though her tone remained more composed. “Imagine the hands that shaped them.”

Sebastian’s gaze shifted to Emelia. She was not looking at the display. Instead, her attention had drifted beyond it to a small group nearby. Young ladies dressed in fine muslins and silks, attended by well-dressed gentlemen who hovered close, speaking in low, indulgent tones. Wistfulness softened Emelia’s expression.

“Do you think,” she asked, leaning toward Darcy, “that we shall ever live in London? That we might dress so elegantly, attend balls, or even have a proper coming out?”

The softly spoken question carried.