FromNowOn by Eliza Lloyd Page A

love with her.
    Another of his mistakes was that he had waited too long to come.
    He knew he could not come during the first year while she
was mourning—at least that was what he had told himself. The past six months
could be excused by his duties in London and the Season. He had sent a few
fleeting, teasing notes, which she had not answered. He had delayed because he
was afraid—the kind of fear that exposed flaws in one’s character.
    “As you wish,” the majordomo said. After another perfunctory
bow, the man took to the stairs and disappeared. That Sebastian was still
standing in the grand foyer rather than comfortably ensconced in a drawing room
was all the confirmation he needed. She had given standing instructions she
would not see anyone.
    Maybe it was worse than he had imagined.
    If he was truthful, and he had been wallowing in several
truths lately, he would admit the unknown severity of her wounds was why he had
delayed. Would he find out how shallow he really was once he saw her perfect
porcelain complexion marred by hideous scars? Would it kill his love? Would
love be replaced by pity for her and self-loathing for his weakness and
superficiality? Would it reveal what he felt wasn’t love at all?
    Nonetheless, he had steeled himself to see this through. He
owed Grace something—for her friendship in spite of his character, for her
gentle, secret love in spite of his robust denial of emotion.
    Some poet or romantic must have penned words to describe
this sort of grail. Was it really love if it could be so easily dashed by mere
wounds?
    He had played out a few perfectly lustful and heartwarming
scenarios about their reunion. He had even imagined he would not leave once she
knew how he felt.
    Rather than wait for the rejection that was sure to come,
Sebastian walked to the door and hurried outside. “Stable the horses. Tibbets,
bring my things inside. I will be staying.”
    * * * * *
    Grace stared at the card.
    Ridgley.
    Sebastian was here?
    The single word blurred as a wash of tears filled her eyes.
Each beat of her heart pounded in hard raps against the inside of her chest,
the echo resounding in her ears. Was she breathing?
    His person came into focus as if he stood before her.
Fastidious in his attire. Casual about his dark-brown hair, which always seemed
to be messed. A quick smile. And warm brown eyes, somnolent and clever.
    She handed the card back to Mr. Felix and straightened her
shoulders. Not that she would see Sebastian under any circumstances, but it was
late and she was clothed in a casual dress a duchess should not been seen
wearing in the presence of company. No unrelated traveler would arrive with
such slipshod manners. Except him.
    He knew better.
    Why, Sebastian?
    “Tell him I am unavailable. Tell him anything but he must
go.”
    Felix’s droopy eyes gave away nothing. “It is late, Your
Grace. As a courtesy perhaps we should offer him food and lodging before he
leaves in the morning?”
    The sun had just set and she was to have dinner within the
hour. She turned away from the majordomo, intense breathlessness taking away
her ability to think. She walked to the open windows of her balcony. The breeze
did nothing to refresh or calm her.
    Why?
    There were steps to the garden below and she was tempted to
flee along the paths and darkened walkways to hide from one of her greatest
fears—not just that she would be seen, but that she would be seen by Ridgley .
    “Your Grace?”
    “Of course, you are right. Where are my manners?”
    “Will you be down?”
    “Have cook prepare a tray for me. Please see Lord Ridgley
has all he requires.”
    When Felix left the room, she felt the paralyzing fear of
being discovered, of being exposed. Cornwall was her private world, the
property farthest from London, farthest from anyone she knew or cared about.
Here she did not have to hide. Here she did not have to worry she was being
judged or people thought she was no longer beautiful.
    No, she did not have