My Fake Rake

She bit back a cry of despair. Even their friendship had died.

“I—” His lips pressed together. “My felicitations.”

She nodded, then slid her grip from his. Not trusting herself to speak without dissolving into angry, confused tears, she spun on her heel, pulled the door open, and walked quickly out.

Chapter 23

“The trouble with moodily gazing into the fire,” Seb said as he stared at the flames burning in Rotherby’s study fireplace, “is how very appealing it seems to simply chuck myself in there.”

“Here, now,” his friend chided from behind his desk. “Since when are you given to melodramatic pronouncements?”

“Since Grace cheerfully announced that Fredericks had proposed.” That wasn’t entirely true. Grace hadn’t been quite cheerful. Yet over and over all he could hear was the way in which she’d countered his own offer of marriage with the stunning announcement.

It hadn’t quite been a complete surprise. Only logical that the naturalist would see her as an ideal spouse, the sort that her family would readily accept as the man who should be her husband. Grace and Fredericks would be perfect for each other. Grace loved natural philosophy. She was kind and intelligent and had a radiance that never failed to rob Seb of breath. Fredericks was . . . reasonably attractive. Marginally intelligent. Well, Fredericks possessed enough intelligence to finally recognize Grace’s magnificence, so he wasn’t all bad.

Nevertheless . . .

“Bloody hell,” Seb muttered. He picked up the fire poker and gave the burning logs several stabs. “Didn’t think the knave would work so sodding fast. A proposal. Less than twenty-four hours after dancing his first goddamned dance with her.”

“Leaving for an expedition to Greenland can urge a man to action.”

“He ought to take an expedition to Hades. Study the flora and fauna. Maybe he’ll be devoured by a hellhound.”

It wasn’t fair to hate Fredericks—but that didn’t stop Seb from happily imagining the naturalist being eternally eviscerated by a denizen of Hell.

A rap sounded at the door to the study, and a moment later, McCameron strolled into the chamber. He peered at Seb.

“God above,” McCameron exclaimed, “you look like the bottom of the Thames, only less cheerful. What happened?”

“Lady Grace is going to marry Fredericks,” Rotherby said before Seb could answer.

But hearing it spoken of so plainly felt like being flayed alive. Seb pushed away from his place by the fire and went to the window. Dusk had deepened into night, and carriages rattled past on their way to the evening’s entertainments. The occasional linkboy escorted pedestrians and sedan chairs. Everyone was going about their lives with no consideration for Seb’s agony. The bastards.

McCameron clicked his tongue. “Come out tonight, Holloway. Rotherby and I will take you to the Eagle chophouse and we can get roaring drunk.”

“I’ve no desire to go out.” The window’s glass chilled Seb’s palm. Perhaps its deadening cold might take away his blazing fury and sadness.

“But you’re London’s darling rake,” McCameron said.

“Sod that.” He pivoted to face his two friends, who both looked at him with concern. “I don’t want to be a rake any longer.” Even for the sake of science, becoming Society’s latest object of admiration had been a worthless crown to wear.

Rotherby spread his hands. “What do you want?”

“Grace!” Seb didn’t realize he’d shouted until he saw Rotherby and McCameron step backward. With an attempt at controlling his voice, he went on. “I want Grace. But she’s got Fredericks now. The man she desired all this time.” Saying the words made it all the more real, more concrete.

“Don’t see why that ought to upset you so.” McCameron crossed his arms over his chest as he frowned.

“Because, you dolt,” Seb snarled, “I love her.”

Rotherby cursed softly and McCameron looked dumbfounded.

It took Seb a moment to understand what he’d just said, and what it meant.

Holy God. I love her.

This was more than attraction, deeper than friendship, stronger than affection. He wanted only her happiness. Her troubles were his. To see her smile with genuine pleasure had become the greatest gift he could ever receive. He wanted to stand beside her as she conquered the world. Because she would conquer the world—of that he had no doubt.