She doubted that offering him a sympathetic ear would be enough. But it was all she had.
“I tried to placate her at first.” Sebastian rested his forehead on the palm of his hand. “Because I thought I loved her and I could not bear to lose her love. In the end I came to realize there was nothing to lose. She did not love me and never had, any more than a greedy sow loves a brimming trough of swill.”
The bitterness of his words was so caustic Rebecca fancied they might blister his mouth. “All that saved me was the discovery that I had never truly loved her either. I had been infatuated with a pretty mask. The person behind it was a stranger to me. Worse than a stranger—a loathsome parasite!”
That might be true and the belief could have spared Sebastian worse heartbreak. Yet Rebecca sensed his feelings for his late wife had been deeper than he could bring himself to admit. The way Lydia deceived and used him had cut deep. Perhaps he’d succeeded in burying those memories and the feelings they provoked until recently, but they had festered all that time, ready to flare up more venomous than ever.
“I felt trapped in a marriage that was destroying me.” Sebastian’s voice gradually grew quieter until Rebecca had to strain to make out what he was saying. “I hated the man I had become. One night she threatened, yet again, to leave me if I did not give in to her insatiable demands. I told her not to raise my hopes with false promises. She flounced off and I heard nothing more from her until she was found dead of a fever a few months later. When I received the news, I felt nothing but relief.”
Somehow Rebecca knew that was not the whole truth. Relief might have been his chief reaction, but not the only one. Perhaps he’d been tormented by guilt or grief for the marriage he’d hoped to have when he first fell in love with the beautiful debutante.
“Now you know the whole sordid story.” Sebastian rose from the settee with an air of deep weariness. “I wish I could claim it helped to speak of it, but that would not be true. I only hope it has helped you understand why I am driven to protect my brother from repeating my mistake and why I so deeply mistrust marriages of unequal fortune.”
“I do understand.” Rebecca got to her feet. “But that does not mean I agree. I know Hermione Leonard better than almost anyone. I promise you, she is nothing like... that woman.”
His face might have been hewn from granite and his eyes from slate. It was clear he would not, or could not, heed her. “Everything about that girl reminds me of Lydia when I first met her—all the sweetness and smiles, whispery voice and girlish giggles. The way Claude gushes on about her—he spouts all the same drivel as I used to, sometimes word for word.”
“You made a mistake committing your life to a woman without truly knowing her.” Rebecca strove to reach him. “Do not make the mistake of condemning Hermione before you truly know her.”
For a moment, she thought she’d succeeded.
Then Sebastian struck back. “Can you honestly assure me Hermione Leonard would have consented to wed my brother if he were poor?”
“I...” Loyalty to Hermione urged her to swear it was true. If she did, there was a chance Sebastian might believe her. But the truth was more complicated than that. With the painful memories he’d confided fresh in her mind, Rebecca could not truthfully claim that Hermione had given no thought to the advantages of wedding a man with a secure income and bright expectations.
Her hesitation appeared to give Sebastian the answer he’d sought, and expected. “I thought not.”
He headed for the door. “In that case, I reckon we should cease our debate. We are each too firmly convinced of our own positions. Nothing would come of continuing now except bad feeling between us. I should regret that.”
“So should I.” Was this the last time she would see him? “Sebastian, wait!”
He turned back toward her with one dark brow raised.
She ached at the prospect of parting from him forever without giving some indication of her feelings for him. But how could she? A woman like her had no business caring for a man so far beyond her reach. Everything he had told her about his marriage made her more deeply attached to him, yet his revelations had also made it impossible to betray any hint of her feelings. If he ever guessed that she cared for him, he would only despise her as another fortune-hunter.
Stifling a sob of frustration, she seized upon a convenient excuse for delaying him. “You forgot your sketch.”
Retrieving it from the settee, she brought it to him. Hard as she tried to prevent her hand from touching his, it did. A swift brush of fingertips, searing yet oh so sweet.
Then he was gone.
He must not return to Avoncross, Sebastian struggled to convince himself.
If there was one harsh lesson his marriage had taught him, it was to know when to cut his losses. He’d told Rebecca neither of them could hope to sway the other. But he had only been half right. Even after all she’d compelled him to reveal about his past, she remained as stubbornly loyal to Hermione Leonard as ever. Meanwhile, she had come dangerously close to persuading him, with her clear-sighted reason and appealing sincerity, even though he knew he was right.
Reliving the misery of his marriage had made him more committed than ever to protecting his brother. He must abandon his plan to enlist Rebecca’s help and figure out some other way to free Claude from that his hasty betrothal... before it was too late.
“Are you coming or not, Sebastian?” Claude glanced toward the mantel clock in the dining room then back at his brother. “Do make up your mind. The service starts in half an hour and I plan to be there, with or without you.”
Once again, Sebastian warned himself he should stay away from Avoncross. Only... he was not certain he dared let Claude go there by himself.
His brother had returned from London the previous day with the handsomely framed sketch of his fiancée and a ring to seal their betrothal. What if Miss Leonard persuaded the besotted young fool to whisk her off to Scotland for one of those scandalous anvil marriages? Sebastian dared not take that chance.
“Of course I’m coming.” He took one last swig of coffee, then rose and followed his brother.
Though Claude drove at his usual headlong pace, they only managed to slip into the sanctuary as the service was about to begin. For the next hour, Sebastian followed the liturgy as if his life depended on it. Every time his gaze strayed toward Rebecca Beaton, he forced it back to the pages of his prayer book. Whenever he found himself listening for her voice during a hymn, he sang louder to drown her out.