A Grosvenor Square Christmas

“Hang it. Hang the whole bloody thing.” Sebastian said under his breath. He paced up and down the floor, heedless of the dozens of people standing idly in his path, doing nothing more than chatting, or flirting, or enjoying the ball’s delights. Well, Sebastian would not be delighted. Granted, when he had walked into this party, he had not been in the most cheerful of holiday spirits. But he had made up his mind to correct that, until little Susie Westforth sailed past him into a waltz with bloody Parkhurst!

  He’d had to watch her all night, dance with man after man, smile at them, make them laugh and they make her laugh in turn, all the while his blood was settling into a boil.

  Of course he’d been too busy being angry to take a moment and figure out why he was angry when she came upon him skulking by the Christmas tree.

  Apparently that had not gone particularly well.

  Sebastian was left in a state of seething annoyance, watching Susannah (his little Susie! With scraped elbows and a dirty face!) get whisked away by a coterie of his old school friends – each more unctuous than the last, what could she possibly see in them? – after she gave him a set down he frankly did not deserve!

  Happy Christmas, indeed, he scoffed.

  “Didn’t Lady Winterson tell you to try and find a smile?” Jude approached, shoving a sugared pastry in his mouth and chasing it with champagne. At least he seemed to be having a good time.

  “Any chance of that walked away a few minutes ago,” Sebastian muttered.

  Jude’s face split into a knowing grin. “Ah, so you fell victim to her charms too, then.”

  Sebastian’s eyes came up, curious. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Westforth girl.” Jude looked over his shoulder wistfully. “I saw you talking to her. Hell, you even held her hand. But she left your side, and now you’re sour-faced. Well, more sour-faced,” he corrected.

  “That doesn’t mean I fell victim to any charms.” Sebastian shook his head, confused. Although his fingers still tingled from when they had grasped hers. “And what do you mean, ‘too’?”

  Jude’s eyebrow went up. “Bass, she’s the one we talked about. In the carriage?”

  Sebastian just shook his head again, not recollecting anything that happened previous to seeing Susannah.

  “The one who turned down seven marriage proposals.” His friend rolled his eyes. “Including an Earl.”

  “What?” Sebastian cried, drawing the attention of several other festive partygoers. “That’s not possible.”

  But Jude just nodded. “It is. After Parkhurst danced with her I had to know who she was, and he told me. Susannah Westforth, the paragon. The most sought after girl of the Ton.”

  “No. Jude, it’s… it’s just not possible.” Sebastian felt the floor shift beneath him. “She’s not a paragon. She’s Susannah. Susie.”

  But Jude just looked blank.

  “Susie.” He tried again. “The girl who lives near me in Derbyshire. I told you about her, surely.”

  A frown crossed Jude’s brow. “You told me about a skinny girl who rode her horse too fast and followed you like a puppy.”

  “Yes, well… that’s her.”

  The corner of Jude’s mouth quirked up. “Not anymore.”

  Sebastian was about to quip, or argue – or possibly send a right hook to his friend’s jaw, such was his state of mind – when Jude saw either another friend or another pastry and chuffed Sebastian on the shoulder before he ran off after the person/foodstuff. Leaving Sebastian alone again, wondering why he felt so… queasy.

  It was somewhat like being drunk – but he’d had no more than a glass of wine. It was like being felled by a cold – but he had no symptoms. It was like having taken a huge, running leap across a canyon, his heart beating fast – but he’d done nothing more than pace the floor. Nothing more than watch Susannah dance with bloody Parkhurst and others.

  Nothing more than taken her hand…

  And then watched her walk away.

  Oh, God. Sebastian thought he might heave.

  “Pardon me, sir.” A tall, silver-haired man in butler’s black materialized at his elbow. “But you look as if you could use some air.”

  “I fear you are right.” Sebastian nodded grimly. The silver-haired butler led him to a door on the far side of the room and out onto a private terrace. There Sebastian took huge deep gulps of cold night air, steadying himself.

  “If I may be so bold, sir,” the butler spoke up, causing Sebastian to start. Good lord, he hadn’t even realized he was still there. “I could not help but notice that you seemed to have quarreled with Miss Westforth.”

  Sebastian grunted in response.

  “She is your old friend from home.” The butler shrugged. “She will forgive you. Of course, may I suggest that you beg forgiveness as soon as possible? That seems the smoothest way to go about these things. Especially when you know someone as well as you know Miss Westforth.”

  “That’s just it!” Sebastian cried, with more vehemence than he realized he’d felt. “I do know Susie – Miss Westforth. And that fashionable creature is not her!” The Susie Sebastian knew would have laughed at a crowd of men vying for her attention. She would have rather been reading or working on puzzles or… “She is acting foolish, and I simply point this out, and I am told off for it. She’s dancing with Parkhurst and… and laughing with him, for God’s sake!”

  “Mr. Parkhurst is perhaps not the most humor-inducing young man here,” the butler agreed solemnly. “But how is Miss Westforth’s dancing and laughing different from any other young lady’s actions tonight?”

  “It’s…. it just is.” Sebastian said stubbornly. “And her dress… it’s unseemly!”

  “Actually, I have it on good authority that Miss Westforth’s gown is of the highest fashion and appropriate modesty for a young lady of nineteen.”

  Nineteen. God, hadn’t she just been sixteen and all bony angles?

  “How do you know all this?” Sebastian grumbled after a time. “About Miss Westforth’s gown… and how we are old friends, come to think of it.”

  The butler simply shrugged. “I am Philbert, sir. I know everything.”

  “Did you know that she tried to kiss me, then?” Sebastian mumbled, kicking his boot against the grey stone balustrade.

  Philbert’s mouth crooked up. “In the ballroom? How very forward.”

  “No, not now. She told me she tried to kiss me before.”

  “Before…?”

  “Before I went away. But apparently I wasn’t paying attention, and she ended up kissing a log.”

  “And were you?” Philbert asked.

  Sebastian’s eyebrow went up, not understanding.

  “Were you not paying attention,” he clarified. “Or did you know she tried to kiss you?”

  Sebastian felt another shift in the world beneath his feet. Smaller this time, but so, so important. Something clicking into place. “No. I suppose I did know. I just pretended it hadn’t happened.”

  He’d seen it. Just out of the corner of his eye, but he’d seen it. Three years ago, after a long run on their horses, breathless, her cheeks flushed and lovely. Sitting nearly leg to leg with him on that felled tree. And his heart had skipped a beat. A rush of… something had him standing before her lips could touch his cheek.

  “Why did you pretend it hadn’t happened?” Philbert asked quietly.

  “Because it would have changed things,” Sebastian answered in kind.

  A light dusting of snow had begun to fall, dots of white illuminated by the lights from within the party, the sounds of laughter floating out over them.

  “Change happens no matter what.” The butler cleared his throat. “And by the time she tried to kiss you, the change had already occurred. At least for Miss Westforth.” Philbert looked wistful for a moment. Then… “If I may impart some hard-earned wisdom, sir?”

  Sebastian nodded, but kept his eyes out into the darkness of Lady Winterson’s snowy garden.

  “Ther
e is a kind of love that does not happen all at once. It happens in increments. In inches. It takes a lifetime to grow. And invariably, for the people falling, it is difficult to recognize, because they are so close to each other. They cannot see the changes as they occur.”

  But then Sebastian had gone away. For three years. And coming home, all the changes that had taken place without him smacked him in the face, leaving him bereft.

  “Also invariably, one person will discover their true feelings before the other,” the butler continued. “And that person has a choice to make. Either they can alter the rules and start playing a different game… or they can be tortured. Wait for years and years on mere hope.” He paused, as if the words stuck in his throat. “I admire your Miss Westforth for choosing the former. It is the path others have been too cowardly to take.”

  Those words hung in the air, falling lightly to the ground like the snow. Settling into truth.

  “I… no,” Sebastian found himself saying. “Susannah may have had a… a crush on me, and I am deeply fond of her. But she’s not in love with me. And… I’m not in love with her,” Sebastian denied, shaking his head. “I can’t be. It’s… it’s Susannah. My little Susie.”

  Philbert shrugged. “That very well may be. But then perhaps it is worthwhile asking, why does her dancing and laughing with other gentlemen upset you so much?”

  “Because…” Sebastian tried, defensive. “Because she’s Susannah.”

  My Susannah.

  The words flashed through his mind, unbidden. And it was true. She had always been his Susannah. His friend. When he was young, he should have been more keen to rabble around with the young men in the village, or go shooting with his father, or any other more masculine pursuit… but no. He had always wanted to seek out Susie. To go for a ride with her. To spend the day playing cards with her by the fire. And the way she looked at him had made him feel… golden.

  But it had been more than that. He’d liked to hear her laugh. To know what she found amusing. To be himself with her.

  But now… now other men were making her laugh. Discovering her smiles. She could become someone else’s Susannah.

  He may not know if he was in love. But he knew for certain he did not want that to happen.

  A flash of conviction raced through him. And it wouldn’t, if he had anything to say about the matter.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Philbert.” He turned to head inside, but was met immediately by… “Oh, pardon me, Lady Winterson.” He bowed quickly.

  But Lady Winterson’s eyes were on Philbert, who stood frozen.

  “My lady…” The butler’s voice was strangled. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough,” she said. Then, seeming to remember herself, she turned to Sebastian.

  “Mr. Beckett. I see you have not yet found that smile I prescribed.”

  “Not yet,” he agreed, “but hopefully soon. Do you happen to know –?”

  “I saw Miss Westforth in the dining room, not a moment ago.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” And then, Sebastian smiled. Trying the expression out on his features before giving it full rein. It felt strange there. As if all the other smiles he’d tried on before had been mere paint.

  As he moved past his hostess into the ballroom, seeking out the paragon Susannah Westforth, he let that smile grow in concert with his amazement. He did not know what would happen next.

  But he was eager to find out.

  Chapter Five