Several hours later, Sebastian leaned against the window overlooking the gardens of Percy Taylor’s drawing room in Portman Square, watching his wife indulging in a rousing, raucous game of charades. Fanny was the most delightful creature in the room, and he couldn't stop staring at her. She wore a turquoise gown trimmed with gold embroidery and delicate golden slippers, and her hair was upswept high on her head with ringlets caressing her shoulders. A few times Percy arched a mocking brow, as many would consider his female companions to be of the demi-monde. Selina, a fair-haired beauty with a willowy frame, was an actress, and Josephine, dark-haired, and petite, with a large, vivacious personality was a French opera singer. Both women had excellent qualities but would not be considered acceptable to be in society. They seemed delighted and amused by his regard for his Viscountess. His other two friends, Richard Plymouth, a country gentleman of no small means, and Theodore Dunn, a solicitor seemed equally bemused by his enchantment with his wife.

Though Sebastian lectured himself severely on staring at her, several times she caught him in the act, blushed prettily and then glanced away. Her reaction seemed to delight his friends even further. And as Sebastian had expected, they all liked her. He knew there had been some anxiety to meet her, and yet he had not doubted her reaction to mingling with people from a class she was not accustomed. Their dinner had been simple with only a few courses, but Fanny hadn’t displayed any airs or discomfort. She had been all charm and genuine grace, and the tension had vanished before it had even formed.

Now she hopped on one leg and spun in a full arc, and for the life of him, he couldn’t deduce what she pantomimed. Selina and Josephine were laughing without any decorum, and Richard scrubbed a hand over his face in evident bafflement.

“She’s not what I expected,” Percy murmured, pushing a glass of brandy into Sebastian’s hand.

“Isn’t she?” Sebastian asked, frowning when his wife now started to hop on two feet. For God sakes, what was she acting?

She stopped, laughing, her cheeks red with her merriment. Had he ever seen her so relaxed and happy at the balls he'd spied her at over the season?

“Yes. I thought she would have been stiff and proper and...and less enamored of you.”

That got his attention and Percy smirked.

“You think her enamored of me?”

“I daresay she sneaks more glances at you and stares just as stupidly. Several times I thought to grant permission to use my guest chambers to burn off the passion simmering in the air, but I did not want to mortify her sensibilities with my ribald humor.”

Sebastian sent his friend a black frown. Laughter pealed from Josephine, and they glanced toward the center of the room. She was holding onto her side and laughing with such vigor her shoulders shook, and his wife fisted her hand atop her hip scowling.

“Did no one guess an owl?”

Theodore shook his head slowly. “An owl? Why in God’s name were you hopping?”

Selina joined in with the laughter and Fanny grinned sheepishly.

Sebastian smiled.

Percy sipped his brandy. “Dare I believe your uncouth upbringing finds no disfavor with your Viscountess?”

“I’ve seen no evidence of it.” Except we’ve only made love once, and it had been in the dark. But he was coming to see it was perhaps natural shyness on her part and not a disgust of him and his baser urges. Or at least he fervently prayed it wasn’t so. Today in his office, her passion had flowed over his fingers and perfumed the air. She had been a beautiful flame, whipping desire over his skin, and had almost pushed him to take her in his office. Sweet mercy, how impossible it had almost been to restrain himself.

“I believe we should play some music,” Josephine said.

Fanny clapped her hands. “How marvelous. Sebastian is simply wonderous at the piano. You must play for us,” she said hurrying over to him.

His friends stared at him astonished.

“Good God man, you play?” Richard asked, rising from where he had been seated on the sofa by the fire. “And we had no notion of this.”

His wife’s beautiful eyes widened.

“I have some skills.” His mother had taught him, and he had developed a love for it.

At the heckling of his friends, he moved over to the grand piano and lifted the lid. And he played, acutely conscious of his wife by his shoulders, her scent rousing his senses, and the entire evening taking him away from the woe of business and the mess he would have to sort in the following week in calming both his workers and the other owners. Many of the factory owners felt it would be like the Luddite riots all over again, so hated was the idea of machinery replacing jobs. Sebastian didn’t believe it would be that severe, but he could take no chances, but for tonight, he removed all those concerns until the morning and played for his wife.

For it was for her, and only her he played. Then she started singing. Fanny's voice was warm and rich and…sultry. The harmonious blend of their skills had the room behind him hushed. They complimented each other in so many ways, if only it extended to the bedchamber. Her passions were buried beneath years of propriety lessons. Sebastian acknowledged then he was falling deeply for her and he needed to start peeling away all her layers more, for he did not want to be a damn fool in love while she barely tolerated him.

A couple of hours later, Sebastian and Fanny strolled along the fashionable Grosvenor Street, and his Viscountess seemed quite delighted with life. And Sebastian was pleased. She was a beguiling complexity he hungered to unravel. So shy and sweetly innocent but she held her own tonight like a queen at court. They had enticed her to be brazen, and she had challenged his friends to be genteel. Her voice as she sang held them enraptured and Selina had stared at his wife with such hunger and envy Sebastian had a feel for his friend who struggled for the limelight on the stage. Fanny would steal every show and conquer the heart of every gentleman if she had been a showgirl and Selina had seen it.

Somewhere in their journey home, Sebastian had impulsively rapped the carriage roof and alighted. Now they sauntered breathing in the crisp night air. Carriages lined the streets, and up ahead, gaiety spilled from one of the townhouses.

“Tonight has been delightful. I think your friends liked me, well I certainly enjoyed their pleasant company.”

“They loved you.”

She shot him a brilliant smile which dazzled his senses. “I do hope so.” A small frown marred her face. “It struck me tonight I have not met any of your family, Sebastian.”

There was censure and something hesitant in her tone.

“Is there a reason for this?”

"I have only my mother."

Her eyes widened. “No cousins or uncles?”

“None that I know of.”

“It is inconceivable. I sometimes lose sight of my many cousins and aunts and uncles. Your mother is eager to meet me?”

“I confess she is unaware of our marriage.”

His wife faltered and spun to face him, her eyes full with incredulity and a flash of hurt. She fisted a hand on her hip. “I demand an explanation, husband.”

“Mamma is taking a tour of the continent. The last letter I received from her she was in Venice or was it, Florence? She's been touring for several weeks now. It made no sense for me to send her a letter for she is constantly moving.”

His wife worried at her bottom lip. “Do you think she will like me?”

“I promise you she will adore you.”

An elegant brow lifted. “How can you be so certain.”

“You are a lady.”

Fanny considered that for long seconds. “Gentility is important to her?”

He hesitated before tugging her close to his side, encouraging them to walk to the gaiety in the distance. His hand turned beneath her touch, his fingers threading through hers.

“Very much so. She will be very pleased a fine lady such as yourself is my wife.”

“I would want her to like me for my opinions and character.”

“That will eventually come,” he said drolly.

A carriage rumbled past them, as Sebastian ensured she was safely on the inside.

“When my father met my mother, he was a traveling merchant, and she was the daughter of a country gentleman in Cornwall. As my mother tells it, Papa tricked her into believing he was respectable and it was after they were compromised the truth of his situation and lack of respectability was revealed. As my father tells it, he fell in love with my mother at first sight, and nothing would have prevented him from marrying her. To protect my mother’s reputation, her father forced a marriage. My mother has never quite forgiven my father.”

“How were they compromised?”

“They were found in bed.”

Fanny gasped. “I daresay there is nothing to forgive. They got in that bed together,” she said tartly.

“My mother was unable to forgive my father for being so common,” Sebastian murmured. “He looks like me you see. Tall and brutish with muscles more suited to working-class men and not refined gentlemen.”

Her fingers tightened on his, and once again she paused to peer up at him.

“You have the most wonderful physique and your muscles, they are...are simply...they are beautiful.”

“Oh? You’ve seen them in the darkness? Tell me more,” he drawled teasingly.

His wife blushed and glanced away. “Your mother must have loved to be found...with him like that.”

Sebastian grinned at her prim tone, and they resumed walking.

“I daresay she did, but I hardly saw any love between them while I grew. My father died when I was eighteen away at Cambridge. He did love her, and when I returned I observed no grief. I think she was relieved.”

“How horrid! Surely it couldn’t have been so?”

“Perhaps I did not fully perceive the nature of their marriage,” he murmured, recalling the quiet moments in which he would spy his mother staring at his father’s picture, her face a study in heartbreak and regret. “Do you regret marrying me, Fanny?”

They stopped near a lamp post, the soft light spilling across her lovely face. Her eyes were wide and uncertain. “What an odd question. I haven’t had cause to reflect with regret, only a wish we...we would be closer. We've been married two weeks, and I feel like I do not know you.” A becoming flush covered her cheeks. “Well except outside of carnal relations.”

He tucked a wisp of curl behind her ear. "And you want to know more do you?"

“Oh yes. Our marriage is forever you know.”

Forever. His heart jolted. His mouth had gone dry; he paused to clear his throat. It was then Sebastian realized on some fundamental level, he’d expect her to slip from his fingers one day. “I’m an open book,” he murmured.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, a gleam in her eyes, one he quite liked. “You are very accomplished for one so young.”

Pride swelled within his chest at her tones of admiration. That he hadn’t expected. I’ve much to learn about you wife. “I worked hard for it. I never expected the viscountcy, I never even met my predecessor so removed I was from a life of elegancies.”

The notion didn’t seem to repulse her. He kissed her. Just a brief touch of his lips to hers, but that small touch made his insides heated. He stepped back and smiled. His wife shivered, despite the warm summer night.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

Ah...it was desire then.

“Are you in love with Lord Trent?”

“Who?” she asked vaguely, staring at Sebastian’s lips, and stepping closer.

Savage satisfaction filled him that she wasn’t pining away for the bounder. “The man you were to marry a few weeks ago.” He hated reminding her, but several times he had found himself wondering in the nights he spent alone if she was craving the marquess.

Her eyes widened. “Oh dear.”

He scowled. She smiled.

"I am not, and I think that makes me a terrible person for I had been set to marry him until I saw him with his lover. I liked him, admired his humor even and his gentleman-like qualities, but never did he make my heart race from a stare, or made my lips tingle or my stomach ache with the need to be kissed. You do that to me, Sebastian."

How easily she shattered his world. The hand he lifted to cup her cheek trembled, shocking him at the strange intensity of the emotion coursing through his veins.

“Would you like children?” she asked shyly, peering up at him with sweet anticipation.

He gazed at her, briefly at a loss for words. For so long he had wanted her because he had found her charming and attractive. Her kindness had even been more appealing than her prettiness. Many times, he had observed how she danced with the gentlemen, the bucks society ignored, and she conversed at length with the ladies no one deigned to notice. What a fool the marquess had been to let her slip from his grasp, but Sebastian was still glad the man had been an ass, or she would have been lost to him. Though he had wanted her with every emotion in his soul, he hadn't thought of a life beyond having her. But now...he could see them, in the country, strolling by the lake, and her swollen with his child, her eyes radiant with happiness. Hunger for that very picture clawed through him “I would,” he said gruffly. “Like to have children.”

A burning need to feel her in his arms took hold of him. "Would you like to dance?"

“In the streets?”

“At the ball.”

She glanced up at the townhouse at the top of the road and then back at him. “We are to appear without invitation?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes sparkled with uncertainty, wickedness, and temptation. “How naughty of us!”

A slow smile stretched across her face. And he saw her intrigue. “Be daring with me, Fanny,” he teased, tugging her toward the townhouse.

Laughingly she came with him, her eyes sparkling with mischief and tender sentiments. And he wondered if her fierce vow that night when she had accepted his proposal about not wanting love held true. His heart jerked hard and then settled. Sebastian wanted her love, for she was a woman he could cherish until breath left his body. She belonged by his side and without question in his heart. How fortunate she had consented to be his wife. And he must be careful now with how wicked he tempted her to be. While he wanted to encourage the part of her which had defied the expectations of society and her family and ran from the altar, he did not want to repel her with his rough manners and actions.

Now she seemed thrilled by his daring.

They slipped inside the crushed ballroom by entering through the side gardens and hurrying up the stairs to the open terrace windows. His wife giggled the entire time, her excitement at being so improper evident, and a joy to witness. They spilled inside the crush ballroom, and with a sigh of breathless anticipation, she flowed into his arms as the strains of another waltz played.

She moved with the grace of an enchantress, and the vigor she danced with mildly surprised him.

“People are staring,” she whispered grinning.

And they were, and his Viscountess did not seem to mind the least bit.

“I believe this is your first outing since you ran from the altar, my sweet. You are notorious.”

She laughed, and the blissful sound traveled, and he could already imagine what the scandal sheet would report as he danced the night away with his love.

How ravishing Lady Shaw appeared at last night's ball the headlines would shout. Or some nonsense of the double jilt securing the iron king and how besotted he seemed and how enchanting his wife was. Sebastian did not care, determined to attend any ball she wished and dance the night away with her. For he couldn't imagine a better place than being in her arms like this, feeling her energy, witnessing her joy, and just being with her.

I am falling for you, Fanny...I am falling hard.