“Fine.” He placed his hands on his nearly bare hips. “Why are you here, Veronica?”

Hearing her name on his lips did something to her. It brought back a memory of him whispering it in her ear when he was so deep inside her that—No. Her breath came out in a heated rush. That sort of thinking was not helping. She swallowed and tugged at the top button of her brocade-covered pelisse, which was currently choking her in the ungodly hot room. Where was a fan when one needed one? “I’ve come because…” She swallowed again, but for an entirely different reason this time. “My grandfather is dying.”

Sebastian’s chin jerked up momentarily. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said with a genuine warmth that nearly made tears spring to Veronica’s eyes.

She shook her head to rid herself of the unwanted emotion, reminding herself of her mission. “He’s gravely ill and Mama says…” She bit her lip, unable to say the words out loud now that the time had come, even though she’d practiced them in the carriage over and over.

“He’s unlikely to live much longer?” Sebastian prompted in a solemn tone.

She didn’t want to feel grateful that he’d saved her from having to say the awful, the obvious. But she was. She nodded. “Yes.”

“And?” he prompted.

She couldn’t concentrate while he was wearing a towel, for heaven’s sake. She shook herself and averted her gaze. “And…I thought you should know,” she finished. Blast. Why couldn’t she just come out and say what she must? She dared a glance at him again.

He scrubbed a hand through the back of his wet hair and narrowed his eyes on her. “Look, I know you’re here for a reason, and that reason isn’t merely to tell me your grandfather is ill. Justin could have told me that. What do you want?”

Blast again. She was making a mess of this. She pressed her lips together tightly and sucked air into her nostrils. It was time. And if she didn’t word this correctly, Sebastian might refuse. Her grandfather’s happiness in his last days depended on this. She swallowed again and said the words as evenly as she could while bile rose in her throat. “I want you to come to Christmastide at Whitmore Manor…with me.”

His dark brows shot up, but the look of surprise was quickly replaced with one of suspicion. “Wait.” He cocked his head to the side and eyed her warily. “Why?”

Arms still folded, she impatiently drummed her fingers against her elbows and gave an impatient sigh. “Justin hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?” Sebastian asked, eyes still narrowed.

She straightened her shoulders and shifted uncomfortably on her booted feet. “That we’ve never told Grandfather that we…that you and I are…” Her voice trailed off. She wanted to kick herself for being unable to complete the sentence.

Only one of Sebastian’s eyebrows arched this time. “That you accused me of being unfaithful and refuse to listen to the truth?”