Sebastian explained how he’d found out about the existence of an illegitimate son, and went on to describe the events following Keir’s arrival in London. The only part of the story he left out was Merritt’s personal involvement with Keir, which in his opinion was no one’s business but theirs.
Somewhere in the middle of it, Lillian interrupted. “Wait just a minute,” she said. “All three of you have known about this for a year, but no one told me?” As she read the answer in their faces, her brows rushed down in a scowl. “Evie, how could you leave me in the dark about something like this? It’s an utter betrayal of the wallflower code!”
“I wanted to tell you,” Evie said apologetically. “But the f-fewer people who knew, the better.”
Westcliff regarded his wife quizzically. “What’s the wallflower code?”
Lillian glowered at him. “Never mind, there is no wallflower code. Why didn’t you tell me Kingston had a natural-born son?”
“He asked me to keep it a secret.”
“It doesn’t count if you tell your wife!”
Sebastian broke in. “I decided not to confide in anyone other than Evie and Westcliff,” he said flatly. “I knew that telling you would only confirm all your worst opinions about my character.”
“And you thought I would use it against you?” Lillian asked incredulously. “You assumed I’d say hurtful things during a time of personal distress and turmoil?”
“I didn’t think it outside the realm of possibility.”
“After all we’ve been through . . . all the time our families have spent together . . . you think of me as an adversary?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way—”
“I would have been kind to you,” Lillian snapped, “had you told me. You should have given me a chance. I gave you a chance all those years ago, and—no, I don’t want another blasted apology, I’m pointing out that I set aside past grievances for the sake of your friendship with my husband. If I’m not worthy of your trust after that, I’ll be damned if I’ll try any longer.”
“Try to what?” Sebastian asked, mystified. As he stared into her infuriated face, and saw the hurt in her eyes, he asked slowly, “Lillian, are you saying you want to be friends with me?”
“Yes, you self-absorbed, dull-witted lobcock!” Lillian jumped to her feet, obliging the men to stand as well. “No, don’t get up,” she said. “I’m going for a walk. The three of you can finish the discussion without me. Apparently that’s how you prefer it.”
She strode from the room, and Westcliff began to follow.
“Wait,” Sebastian said to him urgently. “This is my fault. Let me make peace with her. Please.”
Westcliff swore quietly and relented. “If you upset her any more than she already is—”
“I won’t. Trust me.”
At his friend’s reluctant nod, Sebastian left the morning room and saw Lillian heading toward the back entrance of the house. “Lillian. Wait.” He caught up to her swiftly. She turned away from him, folded her arms, and went to a bank of windows overlooking a small garden.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was an ass. You deserve far better than that from me.”
She didn’t look at him. “Apology accepted,” she muttered.
“I’m not finished yet. I should have given Westcliff leave to say something to you. Selfish bastard that I am, it didn’t occur to me that I was putting him in a damned difficult position by asking him to keep a secret from his wife. I beg your forgiveness for that. You’re entirely worthy of my trust, and I wouldn’t have minded at all if he’d told you.”
Lillian’s shoulders relaxed, and she turned to give him a wry glance. “Marcus would never break a confidence,” she said. “He always tells the truth and keeps his word. You have no idea how trying it is.”
Sebastian’s lips twitched. “I might. I have my own issues with Evie. She insists on being kind and trying to see the good in everyone, every damn day. I’ve had to live with it for decades.”
He was gratified to hear Lillian’s reluctant snort of amusement. In a moment, he went to stand beside her at the window. Together they contemplated a bed of purple heliotrope and cascades of pink ivy geranium on lax stems that trailed over the border edging.
After an awkward but not unfriendly silence, Lillian ventured, “It must have been a nightmare to learn you had a grown child you were never told about. It could have just as easily happened to Marcus, you know.”
“Hard to imagine.”
“Not really. No matter how careful one is, there’s always a risk. As the mother of six children, I ought to know.”
Sebastian sent her a bleak glance. “I always knew I’d have to pay for my sins in some future cosmic reckoning. But in my arrogance, it didn’t occur to me that a man never bears the cost of his sins alone. The people around him—especially those who love him—have to pay as well. That’s the worst part of it.”
It was the most vulnerable he’d ever allowed himself to be with her.
When Lillian replied, her voice was uncommonly gentle. “Don’t be unduly hard on yourself. Ever since you married Evie, you’ve tried to be the man she deserves. In fact, you’ve inhabited the role of a good man for so long, I think you may be growing into it. We become our choices, eventually.”
Sebastian regarded her with a touch of surprise. “Throughout this entire godforsaken mess, Lillian . . . that’s possibly the most comforting thing anyone has said to me.”
She looked smug. “You see? You should have told me at the beginning.”
His lips twitched, and his gaze returned to the window. “I’m sure I’ll regret asking this,” he said, “but was Keir in Merritt’s room when you found her?”
“Yes,” Lillian replied dourly.
“Were they—”
“Yes.”
Sebastian winced. “That must have been a shock.”
“I wasn’t shocked by what they were doing so much as I was by Merritt’s recklessness. Taking a man into her bed in broad daylight? It’s not at all like her. She’s behaving as if scandal can’t touch her, and she knows better than that.”
“So does Keir. But they’re both moonstruck. You remember how it is in the beginning.”
She grimaced. “Yes, a state of derangement with chapped lips.” Folding her arms across her chest, she heaved a sigh. “Tell me about this young man. Is he a silk purse or a sow’s ear?”
“He’s pure gold. A big, fearless lad . . . engaging and quick-witted. Admittedly, the manners are a bit rustic, and I can’t speak as to hygiene: so far, grooming him has been a collective effort. But all in all, a fine young man.”
“And how is he with Merritt?”
Sebastian hesitated before replying. “No one outside a relationship can ever know its inner workings. But from what I’ve seen, it has the makings of something durable. They talk easily. They pull together in adversity. Many marriages have started with far less, including mine.”
Lillian nodded, seeming deep in thought. “Is marriage on the table? Would he be willing to do the right thing by her?”
“He’d cut off a limb if she asked him to.”
“Good. She’ll need the protection of his name. Or someone’s name. Merritt has flouted convention one too many times since she became a widow. Rumors of this affair will be the final drop that makes the cup runneth over. As we all know, there’s nothing society loves more than tearing down a respectable woman who’s broken the rules.” She hesitated. “I’m afraid for her sake.”
In all the years of their acquaintance, Sebastian never heard Lillian admit to being afraid of anything.
“Nothing will harm Merritt,” he said. “A score of eligible men would offer for her tomorrow if she’d have them. But I think she wants this one.”
Lillian shook her head distractedly. “My God, Sebastian. She chose her first husband with such exacting care, and now it seems likely she’ll end up with a man she hardly knows and has nothing in common with.”
“Common interests can be acquired,” he pointed out. “What matters most is having similar values.”
“Oh? What values do you and Evie have in common?” But the question sounded teasing rather than mocking.
Sebastian thought for a moment. “She and I have both always wanted me to be happy.” As Lillian laughed heartily, he offered an arm to her. “Shall we rejoin the others?”
“No, I’m going to walk out to the cove and do some thinking. You may tell the other two I’ve regained my sweet temper and am no longer breathing fire. And don’t fret over things you can’t change. ‘Life must be lived forwardly.’ That’s from a philosopher Marcus has taken to quoting lately, I can never remember the name.’”
“Kierkegaard,” Sebastian said. “Life can be understood only by looking back, but has to be lived forwardly.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
Impulsively Lillian gave him her hand, and he held it in a brief, warm clasp.
“Pax, old friend?” Sebastian asked gently.
Her lips quirked. “After thirty years, we may as well give it a try.”
