The Duke's Shotgun Wedding (Scandalous House of Calydon 1)

“She will. Even in the short time we have been acquainted, I know her to be fearless and poised.”

Sebastian grunted in agreement.

“Have you read the remainder of Mother’s journals?”

“You know I have not,” he ground out. “I will not discuss her further, Anthony.”

“I read them in one sitting, Sebastian, and you refuse to hear about its contents from me. I believe if you were to read all twelve volumes you would not feel such disdain for her.”

Sebastian glanced at his brother with blank eyes. “I will not discuss this further, Anthony.”

“Well, then,” Anthony murmured, stuck his hand in his trouser pocket, and bounced on his toes a couple of times. The seconds drew out until he said, “So, I see Jocelyn has been busy decorating for the festive season. The place fairly glows.”

“I noticed,” Sebastian clipped out as he rolled down his sleeves and reached for his riding jacket. “Let’s visit the stables. Further talk of Jocelyn’s avowal and our mother are off limits.”

He ignored his brother’s taunting chuckle as they strode outside into the bracing cold. He hoped the cold would help harden him against the rush of emotions he had been feeling since Jocelyn’s heartfelt declaration.

He had not let himself be open to love for years. Not since Marissa’s perfidy. Sweet words and coyly delivered promises of love sickened him.

As he stalked toward the stables, he thought about how his wife had declared herself. There had been nothing sweet, or shy, or remotely coy about it.

His duchess had been bold and unflinching, true to her temperament.

And he had been a complete bastard.

…

June 19th 1864

Today is Sebastian’s twelfth birthday celebration. I have been ordered to not be there. I deeply wish I could, but I know that Clement will execute his threat to banish me from Sherring Cross if I do not adhere to his demands. There are times I think banishment would be preferable to the cold silence I must endure. I have tried in so many ways to connect with my beautiful boy but he only stares at me with hatred. How I wish I could hug him to me, and tell him how much I love him, and how proud I am of him. My heart shattered as I—

Sebastian closed the journal softly and leaned back in the sofa, his heart squeezing.

After deeply contemplating Anthony’s stance on how Sebastian treated his duchess and their mother, he had approached reading the rest of his mother’s diaries with a calm stoicism he had not expected himself to possess.

Slowly, as he’d read the heart-wrenching words of his young mother, his hatred had tempered and his condemnation thawed. Some semblance of regret had sliced through him, deep and painful. He’d then felt consumed with the need to learn everything about her. Hours passed as he absorbed her words, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the library.

It was through the lines of her diaries, absorbing the passion, the love, the unending need and warmth she derived from her lover, which caused the first pulse of need for more in his life to flare within Sebastian. He had been utterly shocked to realize that he was lonely. He realized how cold and withdrawn he was from everything around him, especially from Jocelyn. He had shuttered himself away from his wife in the same manner his father had done with his mother, and yet, Jocelyn deserved none of his anger.

He was grateful for the small measure of peace he found from the hurt and betrayals of his childhood. He understood some of the pain she’d had to endure being kept away from him. He had always thought she’d chosen to stay away, being too consumed with her lover. But it had been his father’s way of punishing her for her unfaithfulness. Had he known he was punishing Sebastian, as well?

He glanced down at the volume gripped in his hand. She’d written that she loved him wholeheartedly. Her accounts of his many accomplishments and her overwhelming pride in him were unmistakable, even to his biased eyes.

He had six more journals to read. He knew Jocelyn needed to understand his refusal to have his mother at Sherring Cross, and he would explain. But Sebastian still doubted he could have his mother’s presence in his home so soon. He understood her need for her lover, but he still had not forgiven her for it.

His mind shifted to Jocelyn, and his heart became quiet. He thought about the words his duchess had so passionately declared, and an ache settled deep inside him. He could imagine what his silence and coldness must have done to her. He could not escape the knowledge that the past few weeks with her had been the most blissful time of his life.

She loved him. But did he love her? He still doubted he had the capacity to accept and give love. Love was something he had banished from his life years ago out of necessity, but she made him yearn to be loved. That passion his mother wrote about. The need to share, to be comforted, and the joys that are found in laughter. He found it all in Jocelyn. The days of silence had been hell, and he admired the strength it had taken for her to admit that she loved him. The ache in his chest was almost unbearable.

He had the urge to go to her and explain his actions, but he repressed the feelings for now. He himself did not fully understand. He had much to atone for with his duchess, but allowing his mother to visit so soon, Sebastian could not grant her. His wound felt too raw. She would have to allow him to reconcile in his own time. His headstrong duchess would have to concede to his wishes on this, at least.

Chapter Eight

I thank you, Lady Jocelyn, for your warm greetings. Viscount Radcliffe and I are much honored to accept your invitation to Christmas dinner. I am so very thankful that Sebastian is happy to have us in his home, although I confess to being a bit surprised. But most pleasantly so, I assure you. I am looking forward to making your acquaintance.

Yours,

Margaret, Lady Radcliffe

Sebastian’s mother.

Jocelyn had blatantly disobeyed him and invited the woman to the Christmas gathering.

The rage that gripped him unnerved even Sebastian himself.

He read the note for the fifth time, still in disbelief. It had been by pure chance that he had stumbled upon it. He had seen the seal and recognized it as his mother’s lover’s seal. So he had opened it, despite its being addressed to Jocelyn. He could not believe the nerve of the woman.

He realized that he had been too soft on his wife, allowing her far too much latitude. Something had to be done.

He summoned her to his study, and sat down to wait.

She swept into his domain looking glorious as usual, and he girded himself against the desire that flooded through him. Her hair was upswept in the most severe fashion, but the tendrils that curled loosely over her forehead softened the effect. The purple tea gown she wore bared the creamy swell of her breasts and Sebastian itched to pull her into his lap and have his way with them.

“You summoned me, Your Grace?”

He could see the wariness in her eyes. Three days had passed since her declaration of love and he had ignored her completely, not even dining with her. He had needed the distance so he could think clearly. So he could come to peace with all he’d learned about his mother, and unravel why Jocelyn’s words would affect him so. And then this.

She did not understand the full extent of the trouble she was in.

He smiled, but not pleasantly. “Do you have something to tell me, Jocelyn?” He kept his voice deliberately bland, lest he bellow his rage.

“I do not, Sebastian.”

He surged to his feet and stalked around his desk to lean against it. “I detest liars. Have I not made myself clear on that regard?”

Puzzlement shadowed her face as she took two halting steps forward. “I have not lied to you, Sebastian.”

“Then how would you explain this, madam?” He pushed the note forward, and it fluttered to the ground.

She stooped to pick it up. “Oh!” She gasped as she read the contents. Sebastian blinked in disbelief when she had the nerve to smile broadly at him. “I was not sure if she would respond.”

He wondered if she was daft. “How is it that you fail to understand your precarious position…” he murmured softly. Then roared, “You defied me!”

Her body jumped, startled at his anger. “You gave me no choice,” she snapped. “I had no way of reaching you, Sebastian. There has been tension between us for ten bloody days. I have tried in so many ways to mend my thoughtless remark, to explain my feelings, but you have shut me out completely.”

“So you sought to manipulate me by inviting my mother after I have forbidden it?” he asked incredulously. “You have not comprehended your folly, madam. As you so indelicately pointed out, the last woman that tried to manipulate me is dead.”

“I did not try to manipulate you!” She clutched her hands and glared at him. “I wanted to provoke a reaction from you. And I succeeded. Your anger is better by far than the icy detachment you have thus far treated me to.”

“Do you believe so, madam?” he said with chilling softness. “You will retract your invitation, Jocelyn, and you will do so immediately.”

She glared at him mutinously. “I will not. If you will but hear me out—”

“There is nothing to hear, Jocelyn. Retract the invitation immediately.”

“I will not!”

He clenched his teeth, debating how to deal with this…this…flagrant insubordination. It wasn’t so much the invitation that infuriated him as her blatant, willful defiance of his orders. “Where have you been living, Jocelyn?”