Page 70 of The Sound of Seduction
Stan sighed sharply. “The same thing you did. I’ll marry her.” His tone softened as he turned back to Wendy, taking her hand again. “That’s… if she’ll accept me.”
Wendy blinked at him in astonishment, though her hand made no move to leave his. If anything, he felt her grip tighten. And for a second, he thought the entire room might dissolve. Until…
“I don’t want her dragged into your trouble. List is so close to waging war in Transylvania, and you want to take her away from her safe life and make her a target?” Felix said, cringing when Wendy’s gaze was on him. “It’s not safe.”
“I’d never allow her to be at risk,” Nick said.
“Never,” Alfie added, and Andre nodded.
“Neither would I,” Stan said suddenly, loud enough to reclaim every ounce of attention, his gaze sweeping the room with fierce determination. “I’ve no intention of putting her in harm’s way. Nor would I take her from those she loves without caring for her safety. But I will love her. And what’s more—I’ll do right by her.”
His voice was steady. And though his pulse raced, Wendy’s calm fingers in his reassured him—it was enough.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The tension inWendy’s old chamber was suffocating, a thick, invisible fog that clung to every surface and every silence. Wendy stood near Stan, her arms crossed tightly as though holding herself together was the only thing grounding her in that moment. Nick’s glare burned a hole in Stan, and Alfie’s disapproving frown seemed cut from the same cloth. Andre and Felix weren’t much better, their expressions mirroring frustration, disappointment, and fear. And yet, even with the heavy weight of her brothers’ judgments, it was Stan’s stillness that unsettled her most. His face was set, his features schooled into calm, but his knuckles on the back of the armchair betrayed him, white and tight.
If Nick didn’t give his permission, would Stan still marry her?
Would he leave London with or without her?
And would she truly leave the practice and her brother in England to follow Stan to Transylvania?
“Wendy,” a cheerful voice interrupted, startling her from her thoughts. She turned toward the door where Pippa and Bea entered, wide smiles lighting their faces like the promise of a summer stroll. They looked so out of place in the oppressive gloom of the room, their bright gowns and laughing eyes unaware of the quiet storm brewing within its walls. The contrast was almost startling.
“Splendid, you’re all here!” Bea chirped, gliding forward with the easy confidence of a newlywed, the glow of happiness still clinging to her. She tucked a loose curl back into place andgrinned in Alfie’s direction, whose mien instantly softened as he made his way to her and kissed her check with reverence. “Come, Wendy. We’ve come to whisk you away. We’ve much to plan, and Violet is expecting us.”
But Pippa halted mid-step, her smile faltering for only a moment as her keen eyes darted between the figures in the room, each one radiating a tension she couldn’t ignore. Only Stan was not glaring in her direction, though his lofty calm was arguably worse. She bowed her head, her brows raising in silent contemplation. Wendy didn’t miss the fleeting glance Pippa exchanged with Bea.
“Whatever’s amiss won’t improve by standing about,” Pippa declared, her voice a balm to the awkward silence yet commanding enough to head off any interference. Then she flicked her fan open and waved it dramatically. “Come along, Wendy. I didn’t make the trek all the way to Harley Street just for you to sayno.”
Wendy swallowed hard, her gaze shifting from Pippa to Stan, whose brown eyes finally met hers. His voice was quiet when he spoke, but firm.
“Go with them,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll speak to Nick.” His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and while his words were steady, faint cracks lay beneath them—cracks only Wendy would notice. “It’s better this way.”
Better this way. Their fraught gazes lingered for a moment before Pippa seized Wendy’s arm, too eager to pry her from the room where emotions simmered precariously. She tugged her toward the door, with Bea flitting along behind them, entirely unaware of Wendy’s reluctance to leave.
Moments later, Wendy found herself in the carriage, bumping along London’s cobbled streets. The warmth of sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, spilling onto Bea’s rosy cheeks and Pippa’s bubbly perfection. The air in thecarriage should have been lighter, filled with Pippa’s chatter and Bea’s occasional exclamation, but Wendy felt weighted and disconnected, like an unwanted guest in her own life.
“You only just returned from your wedding and now there’s the next ball?” Wendy’s voice rasped out, her attempt at normalcy weak at best.
Bea nodded eagerly, her hands smoothing her skirts. “Violet is helping us prepare. It’s to be held at Lady Anna Ashford’s house.” She clasped her hands together and sighed with drama only Bea could deliver. “The Ashfords, Wendy—can you imagine? This ball will be quite the spectacle. It’s in honor of Princess Thea, so naturally, her brothers will both be in attendance.”
Pippa, however, wasn’t so easily distracted. Her sharp eyes softened as her gaze lingered on Wendy’s face. “Did you cry?” The question was simple, direct, and impossibly keen.
Wendy nodded before she could stop herself, her throat growing tight as an unbidden tear escaped down her cheek. She turned away quickly, but the damage was done.
“What happened?” Bea asked, alarm replacing her cheerful tone. “What did I miss?”
For the first time since stepping into the carriage, Wendy conceded. Her lips quivered as she began to explain, her voice trembling under the weight of everything she had been struggling to understand herself. She recounted—not every detail but enough. Enough for her sisters-in-law to piece together the scandal, her heartbreak, her humiliation. The emotions spilled out like a dam finally bursting, leaving her raw and exposed under their watchful gazes.
“So, you saved his life?” Bea asked quietly when Wendy fell into silence.
Wendy shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with a trembling hand. “He got through the fever himself,” she admitted, thoughher voice hinted at the bond that suffering together had forged. “It wasn’t me.”
“It was you,” Bea said in awe.
“That’s how you grew closer?” Pippa pressed gently.
