Polly hadn’t been sure how Sebastian would react to her invitation to him once more, but when his lips came down on hers, she seemed to completely lose her ability to breathe. Whereas before his kiss had been strong and passionate, now it was much more tender, much more loving.

Even if he would not speak the depths of his feelings to her, she could sense them through the tenderness of his kiss. How could she convince him that she felt the same? She wound her arms round his neck to pull him closer to her, to deepen the kiss. His strong arms came underneath her, and he lifted her onto his lap as he sat back on the chair. She leaned back against the chair’s arm, the soft upholstery cushioning her. Then she gripped the lapels of his jacket tightly in her fingers and slipped her hands underneath the material to rest them against his chest.

“Sebastian,” she gasped, as he kissed the side of her neck, before returning his lips to hers. It felt so lovely she could hardly think, but as she began to sink deeper into his caresses, suddenly his attentions were gone, and she found herself utterly bereft.

“Sebastian?” she repeated, this time his name a question on her lips. She opened her eyes, finding him sitting up, staring into the space of the room, running a hand through his hair.

“I cannot seem to keep myself away from you,” he said with a sigh as he looked down at his hands.

“Then don’t,” she said, pulling herself toward him. He wrapped an arm about her and kissed her on the forehead. He leaned against her for a moment, as if providing himself this one interlude in time, and then with one final chaste kiss on her lips, he whispered, “Goodnight,” and lifted her off of him, stood and placed her on the chair, and then made his way to the door.

Polly sat in silence as she watched him go, her melancholy slowly beginning to burn into an ire simmering in her belly. What an idiot, she thought. Were men all like this?

She tried not to acknowledge the searing disappointment in her chest, but it cut deeply all the same. She took her time as she meandered to her room, her fingers trailing along the banister where the staircase overlooked the hall. As she gazed into the depths below her, she closed her eyes. Whatever was she to do?

* * *

Polly sighed to herself as she brushed her fingertips over the delicate roses. Sebastian had not touched her since that night in the library, when he had kissed her senseless. It had been a few days since then and, while their conversations and easy manner had continued, there was now a great unspoken desire simmering between them. It made things rather strained at times, especially when she caught him watching her with such intensity in his expression. He would always look away of course, breaking the connection.

How she hated it.

But the man was quite resolute. He would not permit himself to give in to the feelings she knew he held for her, leaving her almost desperate to speak of what she felt in return. She wanted to give voice to it, wanted to share the puzzling state of her feelings in the hope that he would be able to help her make sense of it all.

Lord Yardley was almost entirely gone from her memory. She did not care about him, not now. She was far away from London, far away from those who wished her wrong. Her mother had replied to her letter in a much more even tone, not even mentioning any rumors or gossip, which had led Polly to believe that there was nothing to concern herself with any longer. She would return home and, should there be an opportunity to come back to London next Season, then she would do so.

But only if Lord Sebastian Taylor did not speak to her of what was in his heart first.

Tipping her face to the sky, Polly closed her eyes and drank in the sunshine, allowing it to warm her skin. Out here, she felt free. There were no shackles holding her back, no concern over whether or not she might get freckles that would then have to be hidden somehow for whatever evening’s entertainment she went out to. She did not need to listen carefully to her mother about which gentlemen to avoid or which gentlemen to dance with, nor did she have to think about her manner, her conversation, nor her carriage. Sebastian had seen her at her very worst and, despite that, he had some affection for her. What point was there in considering any other gentlemen when she knew they could not match up?

So he had been hurt in the past. So had she. She knew she had rashly protested to Violet that she would never love another, but her heart had other ideas.

Biting her lip, Polly shook her head and continued on her stroll through the gardens, aware of the heat that rushed through her as she thought of Sebastian. She was desperate for him kiss her again, after the few stolen kisses he had always ended so abruptly. But it seemed that he had turned away from her, so certain that what she felt for him would shrivel and die once she returned to society.

Could he not see that she had never met a gentleman like him? Did he not understand that it was only him that she now cared for? Whether she spent one season or three in London, she knew that Sebastian was the only one who would hold her heart. He had shown her what true care and affection was, shown her how it felt when one soul became twined with another. Was it possible that such a depth of feeling would truly go away simply because she might dance with another few gentlemen?

“No,” she said aloud, determined in her own mind and her own spirit. “No, it is not possible.”

“What is not possible?”

Polly shrieked aloud, only to clamp a hand over her mouth as her sister appeared from behind a large shrub, mirth written all over her face.

“For heaven’s sake, Violet!” Polly exclaimed, her hand on her heart. “I thought I was alone.”

Violet laughed, linking arms with her sister. “You were, until I spotted you from the window and came out in search of you.”

“For any particular reason?”

There was a short pause. “You look troubled and, on top of which, there is a letter from Mama for you.”

Polly frowned, glancing at her older sister and seeing the concern on her face. “I am all right, Violet.”

“Lord Taylor is not.”

Polly felt heat creep up her spine. “Violet, there is so much going on between us that I hardly know where to start.”

“You care for Taylor, then?”

Aware that she was powerless to hide her feelings from the sister she had always been so close with, Polly shrugged and looked away. “Oh Violet I … I had thought I had feelings for Lord Yardley, and I was so utterly wrong. But this is altogether different. Sebastian stirs something inside me, something I can hardly even put words to. Am I so obvious?”

Violet laughed, pressing Polly’s arm. “I only know because I have felt such things myself, Polly. I recognize those emotions, that is all. I know the pain and the struggle that goes on in your heart when it is caught up with another.”

A stone bench came into view and, sitting down on it, Polly looked up at the estate in front of them, wondering what Lord Taylor’s home was like. “You are happy here, Violet. I am glad for you, and for Greville. When I first came to this place, I was sure that I would never feel happiness again. I thought to block off my heart and keep it entirely to myself, never to give it to another. I called myself all kinds of fool, believing that I had been the one in the wrong. Sebastian has been the one to show me that I should not have thought of myself that way.”

“You have had a great many conversations with him,” Violet murmured, looking up at the view in front of them. “I had hoped there was a growing affection between you.”

Polly smiled softly. “Yes, there has been. I have been truly grateful for it – not that I did not appreciate speaking to you, Violet, but I have found solace with Sebastian.”

“From what Greville says, it is because Taylor has been through something similar.”

Nodding, Polly threw a smile over at her sister before returning her gaze to the house. “Indeed, although I will not go into it. I feel as though he has melted the ice around my heart, helped it to heal. If only he would let me in, allow me to do the same for him. He’s compassionate, honest, caring, gentle… Violet I think … I think I love him.”

There was a short silence. Violet turned toward her, frowning just a little. “Polly, have you spoken to him of this? Does he know of how you feel?” She paused. “And, does he return your affections?” she asked, gently. “I hope you are not tormented by the—”

“Sebastian will not acknowledge what he feels,” Polly interrupted, wanting to reassure her sister that she was not suffering from a broken heart. “He thinks my current feelings fickle, that in time they might fade. Sadly, I am quite at a loss as to how to convince him otherwise.”

Violet smiled and squeezed Polly’s arm. “My dear sister, I cannot help you with that, I’m afraid, but I do want you to know that when it came to Greville and me, these things took some time. If the feelings between you are true, if there is depth and thoughts of no one else, then that, in time, will come to fruition.”

Polly shook her head, blowing out a long breath. “I am not the patient type, Violet.”

“No, you have never been that,” Violet admitted, laughing softly. “I do not quite know just how you managed to wait until your time for joining the London Season came about!”

“Neither do I,” Polly admitted, rather ruefully. “So, you think I should leave Sebastian for the time being? Allow him to see that my affection is true, that it will not dissipate once I return to London?”

“I do,” Violet said, putting one hand on Polly’s. “And, perhaps, this will give you time to consider your own heart also. Make sure this is what you truly want, that your feelings are true. Taylor is being cautious, and I cannot help but admire that. This has been a difficult time for you thus far, has it not? I just hope it will not complicate things further.”

Polly sighed, settling her shoulders as he got to her feet. “Thank you, Violet. I do hope that he will come round.”

“I am sure it will all come right in the end,” Violet replied, soothingly. “You’ve always been a stubborn sort. Now, shall we return indoors? You have Mama’s letter to read.”

Trying to inject even the smallest amount of enthusiasm into her voice, Polly gave her sister a half smile. “I suppose I must. Mama will be waiting for me to write back to her.”

“No doubt she will,” Violet replied, tugging a reluctant Polly behind her. “Underneath it all, she is concerned for you, Polly. I just hope she will not unexpectedly appear at the door!”

Polly laughed and fell into step with her sister, her heart a little lighter than before. “As do I,” she agreed, wholeheartedly, before walking back into the house.