“Mayhap he thought Connie was trying to compromise him?” Phillipa ventured. “More than one mamma has tried it this past season and has been met with a similar response.”
Her mother sniffed delicately. “He is a reprobate, that is why. Uncaring and cruel. I knew he was not good enough for Connie, but I foolishly allowed him to call on her without declaring his intentions.”
Lucan was not uncaring and cruel, more stubborn and foolish. Constance had seen the naked need on his face for her. She had also seen how he tried to push her away. She took some comfort in thinking it meant he had hated hurting her. Though it was hollow comfort, indeed.
He was trying to close his heart to her because he believed implicitly in her brother’s guilt. To shatter Lucan’s reserve she needed to understand what had happened. If he would not confide her in, mayhap Sebastian would. “Marissa Alicia Wynwood,” she said.
The blood drained from Jocelyn’s face and the arctic blast from Sebastian’s closed face chilled Constance. What is it? The depth of fear that filled her, made her head swam. The torment and rage behind Lucan’s eyes as he had uttered the words now seemed more real and not a figment of her imagination.
“Who is she?” Constance questioned into the fraught silence.
“Where did you hear her name?” Sebastian questioned.
A part of her wanted to hold it back. For she suddenly knew this was Lucan’s intention. He knew the name would galvanize Sebastian.
“Constance?”
“How do you know her, Sebastian?” She could see that they all knew. Even her father.
“Until you inform me how it is you came to mention her name, I will not divulge who Marissa was.”
How could Lucan believe Sebastian had something to do with her death?
“That was the last thing Luc—His Grace said to me. I demanded as to why he would terminate our friendship and his answer was her name. She was his sister, I believe—”
“Oh my Goodness!” Jocelyn breathed, as everyone fell silent.
“His full name and title is Lucan Devlin Wynwood, the Duke of Mondvale,” Anthony said carefully as he looked at Sebastian.
Constance could feel the undercurrent of emotions arching from her brother and wrapping him into a bubble she did not understand. She also saw the pain in his eyes, it was real and deep. Who had Marissa been to him?
Jocelyn looked a little pale, but she gave him a sweet supporting smile.
“Who was she to you, Sebastian?” Constance asked, her heart squeezing.
“A friend.”
She waited, but he revealed nothing else. “Please do not shut me out.”
She could see him closing off and knew she would get nothing from him further.
“I am not feeling so well,” Jocelyn murmured, laying down her serviette. Her words had the desired effect of rousing Sebastian. He pushed back from his chair and gently eased her up.
Constance met his gaze, wanting to demand an explanation.
“We will speak later, Constance,” he promised.
She nodded, grateful he no longer seemed so angry with her. But she was not sure she liked what she saw in his eyes either.
Guilt.
Chapter Fourteen
Constance laid on the chaise, snuggled under a blanket, her mind in deep turbulence. The fire in the grate had died to mere embers, but she lacked the energy to ring for a servant. She hated disturbing anyone this late anyway. She should have been in her bed. Instead, she had waited until the household fell asleep before retiring to the library to read. The tension and the uncertainty had left her feeling miserable, and she had sought to lose herself in a novel.
Sebastian had made no effort to speak with her, and even her father had rebuffed her plea for understanding. Worse, Lucan still had not called on her.
She had no memory of falling asleep, and her foggy mind tried to make out what woke her. She looked to the fallen book on the floor, wondering if it was the thud of it dropping from her hand that had roused her. Then she heard a sound and glanced sideways to see Sebastian and Anthony entering the library. What were they doing? She opened her mouth to speak when Anthony’s words froze her.
“The Duke of Mondvale is Marissa’s brother,” incredulity rang in Anthony’s voice.
Sebastian expelled a deep breath and sank onto the sofa nearest to the fire, stretching his long legs out in a casual and relaxed pose. He had but to turn his head and probe the shadows in the far corner of the library to make out her curled form on the chaise. “I thought Marissa a ghost I had successfully exorcized from my mind and heart,” Sebastian admitted.
Constance’s breath caught, the intention to reveal her presence stifled.
“Constance is in love with him.”