It was with some relief that she greeted the dawn’s light peeking around her bedchamber curtains. She summoned a yawning Katie to dress for the day.
The breakfast room was mercifully empty due to the earliness of the hour. But that also meant that breakfast itself was in the process of being prepared, so tea and cold meat and cheese was brought up from the kitchen to tide Grace over. She hadn’t any appetite, yet made herself nibble on her food as a sign of appreciation for the kitchen staff’s efforts.
After attempting to read for a few hours, Grace summoned the carriage and directed the driver to take her and Katie to Howland Street.
Once they arrived, Grace realized that an unmarried young lady couldn’t very well go up to a bachelor’s lodgings. Even someone as unfashionable as she knew that.
“Please send the footman up, and ask him to bring Mr. Holloway down.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Never had five minutes seemed so very long as she waited. Her heart plummeted as the footman returned—alone.
“Beg pardon, my lady,” he said apologetically. “I knocked and knocked, but no one answered. The landlady weren’t around, neither, so I’ve no idea where the bloke, I mean, Mr. Holloway might be.”
“The Duke of Rotherby’s.” Yes, that made sense. They were good friends, Sebastian and the duke, and at the least, the nobleman might have an idea where she might find Sebastian.
“I heard His Grace was leaving for the country this morn,” the footman said with a contrite grimace.
“Blast.”
The servant cleared his throat. “Forgive my boldness, my lady, but if you’re looking for Mr. Holloway, the library seems a likely place. He’s always there.”
“Of course!” She felt rather foolish now, not having considered the Benezra. “We must go there right away.”
Traffic was unusually thick, but in due time, she found herself walking up the steps of the Benezra Library. She’d been here only yesterday—it seemed ten lifetimes ago—but it wasn’t unusual for her to return to the library six out of seven days.
After nodding a greeting to Mr. Pagett as he opened the door, she walked briskly to the circulation desk.
“Good morning, my lady,” Mr. Okafor said in a cheerful but quiet voice.
“Good morning, Mr. Okafor.” She swallowed as rising apprehension threatened to choke her. “Perchance, is Mr. Holloway here?”
“He was,” the librarian answered.
“Was? But is no longer?”
“I’m afraid not. He came in just as we opened and returned a number of volumes.”
Unease skittered along her limbs. “Is that so?”
“He’s off on one of his wanders, but when I asked as to when he might return to London, he had no idea. Are you . . . are you well, my lady?”
“I’m . . .” She braced her hands on the circulation desk as exhaustion caught up with her. Followed immediately by leaden disappointment. No, disappointment was too mild a word. It didn’t capture the bottomless sorrow that crumbled the earth beneath her feet, making her stagger.
He knew. Sebastian knew very well that, if she accepted Mason’s proposal, she’d leave England in twenty-eight days. By setting off on his wander, Sebastian had ensured that he wouldn’t be around for her departure.
He’d congratulated her on attaining Mason’s affections. That’s precisely what she’d wanted, precisely what she’d achieved, and to Sebastian, that meant that their involvement was no longer necessary.
At best, she was merely a friend to him. He couldn’t love her and also leave.
She’d never given Sebastian any reason to believe that it was he she cared for. All she’d talked of, all she’d focused on, was Mason. And of course Sebastian believed she had feelings only for Mason, and none for himself. Not with how she’d endlessly prattled on about someone else.
For a woman who prides herself on her intelligence, you’re so very, very stupid.
“Do you need some air?”
Her vision swimming, she gazed up at Mr. Okafor.
“Air. Yes. I—” She lurched toward the door, pursued by her own foolishness.
Rotherby glanced between the chaotic, muddy yard full of bulky and dilapidated coaches, his own handsomely sprung and elegantly appointed carriage, and Seb.