possession of her heart, even though he obviously didn’t trust her.
She closed the folder and put the incriminating dossier in Sebastian’s top desk drawer. He’d no doubt paid handsomely for it. He deserved to keep this record of all the squalid little details of her life before he burst into her dressing room wearing his blasted top hat, white carnation and damned red roses.
It occurred to her suddenly that Sebastian hadn’t agreed when she suggested they take supper together at the Peacock’s Tail once this was over. Her belly lurched uncertainly.
What if this wasn’t a sham estrangement? What if, even without benefit of a contract formalizing their affair, Sebastian had just given her his conge in truth? The downward spiral in her gut confirmed this was more than a ruse to fool Fernand. Sebastian didn’t want his name linked publicly with hers. The fact that his actions dovetailed with his duty to king and country was probably the only reason he agreed to help her recover Lisette.
This was a real dismissal. A rejection. She felt it in every fiber of her body.
She hadn’t even lasted a fortnight with the Ice Duke, let alone a season.
Arabella felt a hard shell forming over her heart once more. She supposed she ought to thank Sebastian. His mistrust would make it far easier for her to convince Fernand she was ready to betray the Duke of Winterhaven.
“Once a gentleman has ended matters with his light-o-love, it is a grave disservice to both parties to continue any sort of congress. It smacks of sentimentality, confuses a man’s past paramour and hinders the timely acquisition of a new mistress to replace her.”
~ A Gentleman’s Guide to Keeping a Mistress
Chapter 13
As Sebastian had requested, Arabella waited until the next day to bid the rest of His Grace’s guests goodbye and return to London. A violent summer storm and impassably muddy roads would have better suited her mood, but instead the weather was despicably fine.
She’d left Sebastian’s elegant equipage at the post station nearest to London, electing to return to town in a common coach to prove her affair with the Duke of Winterhaven was over. Besides, the ducal landau was almost too broad for the narrow lane where she lived.
Bella kept a suite of rooms on the upper story of a respectable townhouse in the shadow of a more fashionable neighborhood. In addition to her boudoir, she had a lovely salon that housed her piano where she occasionally entertained small groups of friends—visiting artists and theatre types mostly. Her position with the opera company provided sufficient funds for her live more lavishly, but she’d been supporting Lisette by sending regular amounts to her sister. She also put money by for her daughter to serve as a dowry when she came of age. Arabella wanted Lisette to have choices she’d been denied.
She didn’t mind the spartan quarters. She was home so rarely. In another month, the opera company would go on tour. It made no sense to have a fulsome home sitting empty most of the time when a simple utilitarian one would do.
But there was no denying the house looked shabbier than usual after Sebastian’s grand country manor. Arabella glanced up and down the block, but saw no one out of the ordinary. If Sebastian’s men were watching, there was no sign of them.
Well, he said I wouldn’t catch them at it, didn’t he? she thought as she entered the green door that needed a fresh coat of paint.
“Oh, Miss St. George.” Her landlady called to her as she started up the stairs with her valise in hand. “There’s a gentleman caller waiting for you in your salon. He didn’t give me his name, but he said it would be quite agreeable with you if I let him in. He was such a forceful, lordly sort of fellow, I couldn’t say no. Did I do right?”
Her
She closed the folder and put the incriminating dossier in Sebastian’s top desk drawer. He’d no doubt paid handsomely for it. He deserved to keep this record of all the squalid little details of her life before he burst into her dressing room wearing his blasted top hat, white carnation and damned red roses.
It occurred to her suddenly that Sebastian hadn’t agreed when she suggested they take supper together at the Peacock’s Tail once this was over. Her belly lurched uncertainly.
What if this wasn’t a sham estrangement? What if, even without benefit of a contract formalizing their affair, Sebastian had just given her his conge in truth? The downward spiral in her gut confirmed this was more than a ruse to fool Fernand. Sebastian didn’t want his name linked publicly with hers. The fact that his actions dovetailed with his duty to king and country was probably the only reason he agreed to help her recover Lisette.
This was a real dismissal. A rejection. She felt it in every fiber of her body.
She hadn’t even lasted a fortnight with the Ice Duke, let alone a season.
Arabella felt a hard shell forming over her heart once more. She supposed she ought to thank Sebastian. His mistrust would make it far easier for her to convince Fernand she was ready to betray the Duke of Winterhaven.
“Once a gentleman has ended matters with his light-o-love, it is a grave disservice to both parties to continue any sort of congress. It smacks of sentimentality, confuses a man’s past paramour and hinders the timely acquisition of a new mistress to replace her.”
~ A Gentleman’s Guide to Keeping a Mistress
Chapter 13
As Sebastian had requested, Arabella waited until the next day to bid the rest of His Grace’s guests goodbye and return to London. A violent summer storm and impassably muddy roads would have better suited her mood, but instead the weather was despicably fine.
She’d left Sebastian’s elegant equipage at the post station nearest to London, electing to return to town in a common coach to prove her affair with the Duke of Winterhaven was over. Besides, the ducal landau was almost too broad for the narrow lane where she lived.
Bella kept a suite of rooms on the upper story of a respectable townhouse in the shadow of a more fashionable neighborhood. In addition to her boudoir, she had a lovely salon that housed her piano where she occasionally entertained small groups of friends—visiting artists and theatre types mostly. Her position with the opera company provided sufficient funds for her live more lavishly, but she’d been supporting Lisette by sending regular amounts to her sister. She also put money by for her daughter to serve as a dowry when she came of age. Arabella wanted Lisette to have choices she’d been denied.
She didn’t mind the spartan quarters. She was home so rarely. In another month, the opera company would go on tour. It made no sense to have a fulsome home sitting empty most of the time when a simple utilitarian one would do.
But there was no denying the house looked shabbier than usual after Sebastian’s grand country manor. Arabella glanced up and down the block, but saw no one out of the ordinary. If Sebastian’s men were watching, there was no sign of them.
Well, he said I wouldn’t catch them at it, didn’t he? she thought as she entered the green door that needed a fresh coat of paint.
“Oh, Miss St. George.” Her landlady called to her as she started up the stairs with her valise in hand. “There’s a gentleman caller waiting for you in your salon. He didn’t give me his name, but he said it would be quite agreeable with you if I let him in. He was such a forceful, lordly sort of fellow, I couldn’t say no. Did I do right?”
Her
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