Sebastian was thrown in to such a state of shock at her words and her lips that, for a moment, he was unable to move. Polly’s arms were around him, the length of her body pressed against his – and her lips soft and warm against his own.

Something began to stir within him and, heeding the warning screaming into his mind, Sebastian stepped away.

“Polly,” he whispered, his breathing ragged. “Polly, I can’t, I—”

“Why not?”

The agony in her expression was almost more than he could bear, creating an ache in his chest. He clenched his fists to shore up his defenses.

“Don’t you care for me?”

It was a question he had been asking himself for weeks. Dropping his head into his hands for a moment, he shook his head again and stepped back, aware of just how fast his heart was beating.

“I know you are not like Lord Yardley,” she continued, lifting her chin and looking directly into his eyes even though her lips trembled just a little. “If you feel anything for me then, please, do not push me so far away.”

Sebastian couldn’t speak, his eyes fixed on hers. He could not look away. The pain and hope in her eyes spoke volumes, the dusting of pink on her cheeks letting him know just how difficult this was for her.

“Please, Sebastian, just tell me the truth,” she begged, stepping forward so that she drew close to him again. “I need to know that there is something more than just a friendship between us. Tell me that I have not made the same mistake again.”

“No, of course you have not made a mistake,” Sebastian murmured, running his hand through the curls that framed her face, unable to keep away from her. He took her hand, feeling it tremble in his own. “Oh, but Polly, I am too much of an old man for you.”

She laughed then, the relief in her expression evident. “I do not think so. Why, look at all of the marriages that take place between ladies and gentlemen with many more years between them than we have!”

Sebastian dropped his gaze, his own heart filled with confusion and doubt. Her assurance that she cared for him had gone deep into his soul but yet, he was not sure that there was anything truly of substance. Besides, he had told himself that never again would he take a woman in his arms when it meant that his heart could be broken. He had learned his lesson the last time such a thing had occurred. He also did not want to be just as terrible as Yardley, who had taken full advantage of Polly’s affections.

“Polly,” he said, slowly, now holding both of her hands in his. “I am touched, truly, by what you have expressed. I will not pretend that I feel nothing in return, for that would be a lie and I pride myself on honesty. But, I do not want to jeopardize our friendship nor your reputation, despite what I want.”

The light faded from her eyes, quickly replaced by determination.

“I want to forget Lord Yardley, Sebastian,” she whispered, pulling one hand from his and settling it on his chest. “I want to be kissed again by a man who truly cares for me.”

“I – I must go and speak to Greville,” he replied. “I shall see you at dinner, Polly.”

He turned away from her and began to walk back to the house, berating himself for allowing her to get so close to him. There should be nothing but friendship between them with no hint of attraction or desire, and yet the throbbing in his veins was all he could feel.

“Sebastian, please.”

His heart tugged at her plea, and before he could think of what he was doing, he turned and reached her in two quick strides. He crushed her hard against him, his lips descending on hers as all the intensity of his feelings came pouring out.

He worshipped her mouth, slanting his lips over her again and again as if claiming her for his own. When she gave a soft moan, he slipped his tongue inside, tasting her. She tasted like sugar and pastries and the sweetness she was. She clung to him, seemingly equally as affected, and he lost himself in her.

A slam of a door in the distance broke through his consciousness and he stepped back as suddenly as he kissed her, putting space between them once more. He looked down to the ground, fisting his hands as he heard both of them breathing rapidly. He cursed at his actions. He was normally a man given to control, but she had asked more than he had the strength to deny.

“Sebastian—”

“I’m sorry, Polly.”

“Don’t be sorry!” she looked up at him, her blue eyes bright and full of life.

He knew, however, that her feelings would likely not last beyond this estate, were nothing that could grow and blossom into anything more, and he would not give his heart again without being assured that it would be held carefully and for a long, long time. Preferably for the rest of his days.

“Polly,” he said, ignoring the clamoring urges that continued to race through him as he forced his thoughts of her to become pure, doing his best to forget just how his body had surged to life the moment he’d kissed her. “I will not tie you down. You have an exuberance for life and excitement and all that the world has to offer you. You think of me because you are here and there is no other man to catch your fancy, but that will change. I should not have kissed you as I did.”

“Sebastian,” she said, her expression growing tight in anger at his words. “I know you think me a fool, and I understand why. But will you not listen to me? The depth of my feelings for you goes far beyond what I ever felt for Lord Yardley. While that was superficial, I know the kind of man you are, and I appreciate you for more than simply the attraction I feel for you. Do not push me away.”

“I must go speak to Greville,” he said, not missing the hurt in her eyes as he turned from her to enter the house.

* * *

Dinner that evening was a little fraught. There was not a great deal of conversation, for Sebastian had soon discovered that he could barely look at Polly, such was the feeling of awkwardness growing between them. Of course, he responded to both Greville and Violet, as Polly had done, but there was still a somewhat stilted atmosphere that he had been forced to endure.

Now, at least, he was alone. Greville and Violet had both retired after an evening of port, cards and some soothing piano music from Violet. Polly had, at some point, disappeared without a word. Sebastian had not wanted to ask where she had gone, worried that he might make the difficulties between them too apparent, but he had noticed her disappearance. His heart tore as he considered his part in adding to her hurt and confusion, berating himself for first raising her hopes and then not stepping away from her sooner. He should have stayed in London.

“I did hope you would come here.”

The moment he stepped into the library, a soft voice met his ears, forcing him to look up sharply.

“Er… Polly,” he stammered, one hand still on the door handle. “What are you doing? You should go. Or I should.”

Her face fell. “Please don’t, Sebastian. I know that there is a great deal that has happened between us, but I do not like the enmity it has caused.”

He sighed, his shoulders lifting. “It is not enmity, Polly. I would not have you think that. It is simply a matter of where we stand, I suppose. It’s likely best we just remain as we are for the time being – as friends and nothing more.”

Her expression remained downcast, though her words held some bite. “Very well, Sebastian. You will have what you wish.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian replied, softly. “I know how frustrating it may be, but I assure you, it is for the best. In time, you may come to be grateful for my actions. On your return to London, you will be free to dance with and be courted by as many gentlemen as you please. After a season of enjoyable entertainment, you will find the suitor you have been looking for, I am sure.”

For a moment, he thought Polly was going to argue, but, much to his relief, she simply sat down quietly on the white Empire sofa with its comfortable down-filled seat cushion, and lifted her glass of wine to her lips.

“I should retire,” Sebastian murmured, aware that he ought not to remain in close proximity to the lady when she was alone.

She looked up. “You did not tell me the story you promised, Sebastian.”

“Story?”

Her eyes lit up as though she had trapped him somehow. “Yes, you promised you would tell me the reason why you hate London society so much. I have not forgotten, you see. Why don’t you talk to me about it now?”

Sebastian paused, feeling rather uncertain. “I’d rather not.”

She shrugged. “Leave the door open, if you wish it. I do not intend to take advantage of you again, if that is what concerns you.” She gave him a slight grin at that.

Mulling things over for a moment, Sebastian chose to do as she’d asked, finding that he wanted to put an end to the awkward tension between them and deciding to himself that this might be the way to do it. However, he did leave the door ajar, although he was quite sure everyone else was abed.

“I suppose I did promise,” he said, sitting down opposite her on a matching upholstered chair. “What exactly would you like to know?”

Polly regarded him carefully, her head tilting a little. “I suppose I wish to know why you hate London society so much, and why you keep your heart so carefully guarded. I know you are very selective with whom you associate whenever you are there, and you do not seem to care for dancing or acquainting yourself with any eligible ladies.”

He chuckled ruefully, leaning back in his chair as the strain of the afternoon and evening began to drain out of him. “I suppose that is true. I go into society when I have no other choice. Given that I had some business to attend to in London, I thought it best to make some kind of appearance this year, although I confess that I did not find it to be at all interesting.” Seeing her glance away, Sebastian reconsidered for a moment. “Until I made your acquaintance again, of course,” he finished, hastily.

Her eyes met his for a moment. “You wanted to reacquaint yourself with me?”

“Of course,” he admitted, his voice soft. “Why would I not?”

He wasn’t sure if he should have told her such a thing, as a slow smile spread across her face, bringing happiness to his aching heart – a heart with desires he continued to deny.

“But you intended to return to your country seat before the Season was at an end?” Polly questioned, her gaze steady. “Do you not wish to marry?”

Sebastian considered the question, finding it a little embarrassing to open himself up in such a vulnerable way. “I did, once,” he said, softly. “But that was before I met Miss Gladstone.”

Polly blinked rapidly. “Miss Gladstone?”

The memories came flooding back, thick and fast. “Miss Gladstone and I were engaged,” he said, his gaze now drawn toward the fire. “It was some years ago, of course, but I thought myself in love with her. I believed that she cared for me also.”

She nodded, her expression softening with compassion. “I must guess that all did not go as expected,” she said, quietly.

“No, it did not,” Sebastian replied, getting up to pour himself a snifter of brandy. “It began when I met her in London and, within a fortnight, asked to court her.”

There was a short silence. When he turned around, Polly was still studying him, her brow furrowed.

“You need not speak of this if you do not wish to,” she said, slowly. “I do not want to press you.”

Sebastian shook his head, gesturing with his glass of brandy. “No, indeed. I likely should have told you the whole of it some time ago, to help you better understand the reasons for my actions, as well as why I could commiserate with your situation. As I said, it has been some years, and yet still I cling to, if not the memories, the lessons she taught me.”

She waited for another moment or two, before continuing. “Did Miss Gladstone agree to your court?”

He nodded, waiting to feel that pain that always came with the memories of her but, oddly, it did not come. “She did. Even more than that, she agreed to marry me.”

“You proposed?”

The astonishment in her voice made him smile somewhat ruefully. “I did, although I will admit to being a trifle hasty. At that time I was much more impulsive than I am now. I was quite eager for all life had in store. I knew the lady less than a month and truly believed that she would be the perfect wife. She was beautiful, for one, which my young impetuous heart was drawn to. She was also refined, graceful, and said all the words I wished to hear. I suppose it just goes to show that one cannot truly come to know a person in such a short length of time.”

He could tell that his words had made her think, seeing how she frowned. Their acquaintance had been a little longer than that, but still there was a great deal he did not know about her and she about him. It did not make a good standing for an engagement and certainly not a marriage. Yet, he had to admit, there was more of an intimacy between him and Polly than there had ever been with Patricia Gladstone.

“Without going into too much detail, she eloped,” he mumbled, the words coming out in a rush as he hurried to have them spoken aloud. “Her parents were furious, of course, but it was much too late by then. Married over the anvil in Scotland to a gentleman her parents had refused to allow her to court. Something about him not being a member of a family of the nobility. Not a good reason, is what I mean. She had been using me to keep her parents from suspecting what she had been planning.”

“I see,” Polly murmured, her eyes dimming. Silence hung over them like a blanket, smothering them both.

Then came her whisper. “Did you love her?”

The question was so direct, so personal that, for a moment, Sebastian wanted to refuse to answer. Then he looked into her eyes and saw the way her thoughts were turning, saw exactly what she hoped for and what she was despairing about.

“I thought I loved her,” he admitted, swirling the brandy in his glass. “I gave her my heart, and she discarded it without consideration. Looking back, I realize that I never really knew the lady. She was simply playing a part, as all eligible young ladies do when they are thrown into the foray of London society. She did what was best for herself. The worst of it was, had she told me all from the beginning, I would have helped her without giving away my heart. I thought she cared about me, I believed that she did. However, in the end, I was nothing more than a fool.”

“Never a fool, Sebastian,” Polly whispered, getting to her feet and coming to sit on the arm of his chair. “I will not allow you to say that giving your heart to another is something to be mocked. We are both the same, you and I. We were duped by someone we thought cared for us. How strange that is.”

Sebastian sighed and looked down into her face, finding her more beautiful than he ever had before. The compassion in her eyes made him want to hold her close, whisper tenderly in her ear, and promise her a future filled with happiness. However, he could not let himself do what he wished, despite how close they were. She would want so much of life than he was able to give her. She deserved to be loved by a man with his whole heart to give. Despite his thoughts, however, his hand reached out of its own accord and he ran his fingers down the side of her cheek.

“My Polly,” he whispered, his heart so full of emotion he could hardly think. “What am I to do with you?”

She smiled softly, just a hint of uncertainty playing around her mouth. “That, Sebastian, is entirely up to you.”

His name on her lips, the invitation she offered — it was all too much. For just a moment — long enough to make all the difference in the world — he forgot to think, and his body acted of its own accord.