She sat up and held the covers over her breasts. “You’re not staying?”
His footsteps slowed as he neared the door, as if he would respond, but he must have changed his mind, for he didn’t stop, but opened the oak door and softly shut it behind him.
Left alone in the silence, Sephy flopped back on the bed. Tears stung her eyes, but she angrily brushed them away.
Did she really think it would be that easy to just seduce Hunter and then imagine that everything would be all right? There were years of pent up frustrations and sorrow that sheltered his heart from her. It wouldn’t be something that was shattered in one night of pleasure. Worse yet, what if she’d just made everything worse? He might have taken her virginity at long last, but what if that only succeeded in making him more distant and closed off from her?
Her heart abruptly seized in her chest as she thought of something far more important. What if tonight had merely been a way to send her away without further weight on his conscience? When he departed he said he would see her in the morning. He didn’t tell her that she would be staying.
Sephy forced her hands to unclench. She would have to pay another call on Charlotte for some more advice, for going to her mother’s house wasn’t an option. Besides, the countess was the only one who knew that Sephy had still been a virgin when the duke had departed for India. No doubt her mother would have been appalled at the idea her daughter had just recently become Falcourt’s mistress in more than name. If word got out, it would surely damage the reputation of her house.
Thus decided, Sephy rolled onto her side and, like so many times before, she focused on the jade elephant on her bedside table before she fell into a restless slumber.
***
Hunter left at dawn. After a rather fitful night of tossing and turning, he was grateful for the light of day. He wanted to ensure that he left before Persephone arose, for he wasn’t quite sure how to face her. Of course, it seemed rather ridiculous that a man of two and thirty should be afraid to speak to a woman ten years his junior after they’d shared such an intimate night of bliss, but he also couldn’t deny the truth.
He had been wrong last night when he’d told her to pack her things, but at the same time, he also didn’t know how to proceed from here.
Thus, he set out for White’s in St. James hoping for some sort of clarity, but instead of bothering Henry to saddle his horse, he hailed down a passing hackney. Once he was deposited at the steps of the familiar structure, he paused. He remembered the first time his uncle had brought him here and requested membership for his nephew. At the time, Hunter was still in Eton, but by the time he attended Oxford, he’d received news that his application had been accepted.
The first time he’d walked through those coveted gentlemen-only doors that were opened for but a select few, he had felt a sense of pride. For the illegitimate son of the king, whose mother had been smeared with the scandal of her impending divorce and adultery, it was as if he’d finally been accepted by a society that wanted to condemn him just by being born.
Years later, Hunter had no such compunctions. He could care less if he was brought into the fold of his London peers. He just wanted somewhere he could think.
While he hadn’t darkened the doorway of the infamous club for years, the moment he showed his card, he was granted access. The infamous betting book was still where he remembered and the interior was still masculine in nature, although lush and grand with velvet chairs and the lingering scent of smoke in the air. It was meant to be a haven for men who wanted to escape their duties in Parliament for a time, or perhaps even their own familial duties.
For Hunter, it was merely a place he could have a drink without worry of seeing Miss Welton around every corner.
At such an early hour there were no more than two or three other men in attendance, the gaming tables silent for the time being. However, as he wearily sank down near the fireplace, it didn’t take long for a waiter to approach him. “Welcome, Your Grace. Can I get you something?”
Hunter placed an order for a sherry and then leaned back and prepared to shut his eyes until the man returned.
“It’s a bit early in the day for spirits isn’t it, Falcourt?”
Hunter cracked open an eye to see one of the men who had been sitting diagonally from him lower the paper and fold it neatly before he set it aside. He snorted. “Darwood. And here I thought you might be sleeping off the effects from Vauxhall last evening.”
The viscount stood and moved to sit across from him. Once he was resettled, he said, “As if anyone could sleep with two younger sisters and a mother in attendance that gab incessantly from dusk to dawn and all through the night.”
Hunter sat up a bit straighter as the waiter returned with his drink and then departed. “Indeed?” he said, taking a hearty sip. “I didn’t realize Celeste and Editha were old enough to make their debut.”
His friend smiled as he pointed out, “Just because you leave the country doesn’t mean the rest of us cease to exist. My twin siblings actually made their curtsy last spring and have received several offers, and yet, they continue to plague me with their desire for one more season. It was only at my mother’s behest that I finally gave in.”
Hunter frowned slightly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
Avion waved a hand, his gold signet ring catching the light from the fire. The
