The Debutante’s Brooding Protector (The Duchess’s Darling Debutantes Book 1)

She drew in a deep breath and studied her options. You are Estella Hale. You have run a household since you were seventeen. You have negotiated with creditors and once talked a horse out of a ditch. You can certainly make conversation with a stranger at a ball.

"Miss Hale," she finally said. "Estella Hale." "Miss Hale," he said. "And is this your first Season?" "Is it that obvious?" He smiled. “Only in the most charming way. You seem to be taking everything in as if for the first time. It's refreshing." Heat crept into her cheeks, but for once it was the pleasant kind. "I'm not certain 'refreshing' is the word most people would use. I suspect 'hopelessly provincial' is more accurate." "Then most people are fools." He offered his arm. "Shall I give you the tour? I can promise at least three scandalous anecdotes and one story involving a goose that you'll think I invented but which is entirely true." "Well…" She took his arm. "I cannot resist a goose story."

She could vividly recall the boy he’d been when he’d visited Andrew at their country estate. How he’d pretend to be annoyed when she followed them and then slow his pace so she could keep up. He’d been kind like that. Awkwardly sweet and accommodating to the little pest who trailed after them. She hadn’t needed Andrew to tell her that his dear friend Seb didn’t have siblings of his own. It’d been apparent from the start.

Adequate, but not good. And Estella deserved better. None of them had been good enough. That was what he told himself. None of them had the resources to manage the Langley debts, or the social standing to give Charlotte a proper future, or the temperament to handle a wife who was more clever than all of them combined. No, she needed someone better. Someone worthy of her. The fact that no man alive could possibly meet Sebastian's criteria for worthiness was a contradiction he chose not to examine.

He watched Fairchild lead her into the dance and told himself the sensation clawing at his rib cage was concern. Fraternal concern. The concern of a man who had promised a dead friend that he would keep this girl safe. It was not jealousy. It was absolutely not jealousy. He was not jealous of a penniless fortune hunter with good teeth and a goose anecdote. Snap! Sebastian looked down with a frown. His glass might have cracked slightly in his grip.

The duchess's smile was small and satisfied…and just slightly terrifying. "Tomorrow. Tea, at my residence. I've already sent Miss Hale an invitation." Sebastian stared at her. "You were very confident I'd agree." Her smile grew as she rose from the settee. "I was confident," she said slowly, "that you care about that girl too much to refuse." The words hit him like a slap. "I don't⁠—" "Oh, I know." The duchess was already moving toward the door. "It's all duty and guilt and a debt to your dead friend. You've told yourself that story for two years, and I'm sure it's very comforting." She paused with her hand on the door. "I'll see you at three o'clock, Lord Blackwood."

She was presumptuous, and manipulative, and entirely, categorically wrong. He did not love Estella Hale. He was simply going to dedicate every waking moment to ensuring her safety, and rearrange his entire life around her Season, and stand beside her at events, and scrutinize her suitors, and escort her through a world that wanted to eat her alive, and then, when she was settled… He would leave and never think of her again. He straightened his cravat as he strode toward the door. Yes, that was the plan. And that was very clearly not love. Merely obligation.

Estella stepped out onto Bond Street with her reticule still full of the coins she'd scraped together, and a feeling very much as she had that time Charlotte had rearranged all the books in the library by color instead of author. Everything was where it should be, technically. And yet nothing made sense.

She had an hour before tea with the duchess, and her nerves were wound far too tight. But there was no problem in this world that couldn't be temporarily improved by a bookshop.

Estella stared at her. She'd never, in her entire life, met another young woman who had opinions about estate ledger systems. "I'm Estella Hale," she said. "Theodosia Evermore. But you can call me Thea." The young woman extended her hand with none of the ceremony a proper introduction required, and Estella took it without hesitation. Anyone who had read every book on this shelf and had thoughts about ledgers was exactly the sort of person Estella needed in her life.