“I should go upstairs,” she said, but the words seemed reluctant.
He tightened his grip on her, enthralled by her soft curves. “Nonsense.”
And she stayed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE NEXT MORNING, GENEVIEVE’S heart seemed intent on bursting through her chest. Not smiling seemed an impossibility.
She’d been with Sebastian.
Truly been with him.
And it had been marvelous.
Her heartbeat pattered merrily, intent on its own melody, despite the occasional suspicious glance from her mother.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Sebastian’s deep voice sent a jolt through her, as if she were once again lying in his arms, listening as he said the most delightful things.
A knock sounded on the door, and Billy led Mr. Ackley Junior into the room. The man fiddled with his hat. Genevieve attempted not to frown.
Mr. Ackley was gregarious, but his son seemed too awkward to engage in social visits with minor acquaintances. The last time Mr. Ackley Junior had visited the cottage, he’d been tasked with carrying Sebastian’s body. The experience must have been trying. Similarly, it was dubious that Mr. Ackley Junior would have decided to become social at nine on a Sunday morning.
Genevieve greeted him uneasily. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Seagull. I have a message from my father.”
“Ah.” Genevieve nodded politely, but her fingers quivered despite her attempts to emanate calmness.
Mr. Ackley Junior’s gaze dropped to her fingers, and he frowned slightly.
Genevieve pulled her hands away, placed them at her side and attempted to hide them within the folds of her morning gown.
Footsteps sounded, and Sebastian entered.
“I see we have a visitor.” Sebastian smiled. “It seems I never thanked you for carrying me from the beach.”
“It was the charitable thing to do,” Mr. Ackley Junior said stiffly.
“I’m grateful you didn’t leave me to be gnawed on by crabs and snails.”
Billy widened his eyes. “Would they have done that?”
Sebastian shrugged. “I would have woken up and fought them off.”
Billy grinned.
Sebastian turned to Mr. Ackley Junior and slapped him on the back. “But this man is still a hero, all the same.”
“A hero!” Billy gasped, and his eyes rounded.
“Indeed,” Sebastian nodded gravely. “Isn’t that true?”
Mr. Ackley Junior remained solemn. “You’re welcome, but it was the right thing to do. Any Christian would have done the same.”
“Any Christian does not have your strength.”
“I’ve come for another reason,” Mr. Ackley Junior said.
Sebastian frowned. “Well, speak.”
“You have been disappointing the Lord,” Mr. Ackley Junior declared. He spoke quickly, as if eager not to linger on the words. “You have not been at church for any of your time here.”
Oh.
Genevieve hadn’t expected him to say quite that.
“My father is understandably upset, and I must say that in this case, we agree.”
“Ah.” Sebastian nodded. “I take it that that is a matter of interest.”
“Naturally.”
“Is agreement something you rarely do?” Sebastian kept his voice solemn, but his eyes sparkled, and when Mr. Ackley Junior looked away, he winked at her.
Genevieve resisted the urge to giggle.
Giggling would not enhance the situation. Mr. Ackley Junior hadn’t come to make them laugh, but to scold them. Having them laugh would be unlikely to instill him with confidence. It was only polite to keep his spirits elevated, particularly since the man was so determined to spend his mind contemplating the heavens.
Mr. Ackley Junior glowered anyway. “I hope you will do us the courtesy of visiting church this morning.” He glanced around the room. “I see you are all awake and—er—clothed.”
“Yes, I don’t have a habit of being nude,” Sebastian said.
“Good,” Mr. Ackley said curtly. He turned to Mama. “Now, can I expect you?”
Mama shifted her legs from side to side to side, and a worried look came upon her face. She glanced at Genevieve.
Genevieve understood the reason.
Mama didn’t want to go to church. Churches were large places, and perhaps someone might recognize Sebastian.
Churches were dangerous places, filled with people of all classes. And though no one from here should recognize him, it seemed wiser to avoid the possibility altogether. After all, Lady Letitia had visited. Who else might visit?
Still, Mama tended to be wise.
“With Sebastian’s precarious health and recent recovery, we did not want to risk harming him,” Mama said.
“The Lord’s presence is not a place of harm.”
“It was—er—not the presence of the Lord himself that worried us,” Mama said.
“More the exertion of getting to church,” Genevieve said. “And what if one of the parishioners had a cold? My poor husband is recovering from an injury that could have been fatal.”
“One does not like to tempt fate.” Mama squeezed Genevieve’s hand.
Sebastian’s lips formed a pout.
Heavens.
The man did not like to be reminded that he’d been sick at all. Never mind that he still could not remember anything.
“And is not the Lord with us always? Even in this little cottage?” Genevieve added hastily, lest Sebastian decide now was the proper time to brag about his strength and strong constitution.
Mr. Ackley Junior turned to her with an icy look incoherent with the pleasant smiles the Cornish often emitted, confident they would continue to receive much sunshine. “That is a rather Catholic view of things.”
Genevieve’s cheeks warmed.
Sebastian cleared his throat.
Oh, no.
Genevieve knew what he was going to say. Mama’s eyes widened: she knew what he was going to say too.
“We would love to see you at church,” Sebastian said. “It was very thoughtful of you to stop by.”
Mr. Ackley Junior’s shoulders eased slightly, appeased by Sebastian’s good-naturedness and natural inclination toward flattery.
Genevieve sighed.
“Then I will see you soon.” Mr. Ackley Junior gave a curt bow.
Mama and Genevieve curtsied, and Sebastian echoed his bow.
Mr. Ackley Junior strode from the room, and Mama and Genevieve exchanged glances.
“Now let’s get going!” Sebastian said brightly. “Maybe my colleagues will be there. I can introduce you to them.”
“How splendid,” Genevieve said faintly, even though she didn’t feel particularly enthusiastic.
It would probably be fine, though. After all, it was unlikely anyone would be here from the ton in this quiet hamlet. Genevieve doubted any tailors or cobblers who might recognize Sebastian would venture so far from London.
Perhaps Lady Letitia had ventured here, but that had been days ago. She wouldn’t still be lingering here, and she certainly wouldn’t be going to church. Genevieve suspected the only time Lady Letitia went to church was when she wanted to display her Sunday best and her latest hat.
“We can perhaps sit in the back,” Mama suggested.
Sebastian frowned. “Do you not normally attend church?”
“We do,” Mama said.
It was true.
Sebastian furrowed his brow, no doubt cognizant that they were acting oddly.
“Mama thinks Mr. Ackley might be boring,” Genevieve blurted.
The pondering look vanished from Sebastian’s face, and his eyes twinkled again. Genevieve adored it when his eyes twinkled. Her breath came more evenly now, even though she hadn’t even realized it had been coming slowly.
Sebastian glanced at Mama. “I can imagine Mr. Ackley might be tiresome.”
“I can’t abide being bored,” Mama said.
“I much prefer entertainment.”
“Perhaps we can find another vicar who speaks about hellfire,” Sebastian said.
Billy’s eyes rounded. “Hellfire?”
Mama frowned.
“What’s hellfire like, Mama?” Billy asked, his eyes shining. “Is it different from other fire?”
“I—er—suspect it must be quite hot. And—er—big.”
“Have you seen hellfire before, Mama?” Billy asked.
“I suspect I might one day,” Mama said miserably.
Sebastian’s eyebrows jolted up, and Mama quickly opened the door to the outside.
“Let’s go to church, Billy,” she said brightly. “Won’t that be amusing?”
Billy’s face grew solemn. “I want to learn more about hellfire.”
“Come, come,” Mama said.
They left the cottage.
Mama, Genevieve, and Billy squeezed into the chaise, and Sebastian rode postilion style on Pegasus.
Soon, they were on their way to church.
Genevieve told herself this was a perfectly normal destination, and nothing possibly wrong could happen.
Still, her heart continued to beat more quickly than necessary, and her stomach hurt.
SEBASTIAN SIGHED. GENEVIEVE and Mother were so protective of him. They needn’t worry. He wasn’t going to go anywhere.
Especially after last night...
His heart beat happily. Perhaps he might never remember his past, but the doctor had not mentioned any risk of him actually getting worse.
He offered Genevieve his arm, and she took it. She seemed to scrutinize the church a good deal. Perhaps Mother and Genevieve did not visit the church as often as they said.
He frowned.
Personally, he did not mind what they might think about religion, but it seemed incongruent with what he knew about their personalities that they might actively refrain from attending church. All the women he knew attended church.
And yet, Genevieve truly did seem to gaze warily about the area, as if examining the steeple for lightning bolts God might use to smite down infrequent churchgoers.
“It will be fine,” he said.
“I know.” Her voice wobbled, and she glanced around at the other parishioners.
He furrowed his brow.
Sometimes he thought he wasn’t the one with a hidden past.
They entered the church. Most of the pews were full, and he recognized many people from the farm. No wonder Mr. Ackley had thought it important to encourage them to attend. He wouldn’t want so many people to wonder why he wasn’t here.
“Seagull!” His employer appeared. “Thank you for taking part in the search party the other night.”
“It was nothing,” Sebastian said. “It wasn’t successful.”
His family looked at him curiously. He hadn’t spoken about the search party to them. He didn’t want to burden them about worries for the missing man.
The farmer shrugged. “Poor chap probably got swept away by the ocean.”
Sebastian sighed. “I know just how difficult the ocean can be.”
The farmer tilted his head. “You sound like a man who’s been trapped in a ship during brutal thunderstorms.”
“Something like that,” Sebastian said, feeling his cheeks warm.
He hadn’t told his employer he had amnesia. It was the sort of thing that might make a man think twice before giving him work, and now it seemed odd to mention that he couldn’t remember the past six years.
Everyone seemed satisfied in knowing simply that he was new to the region. Though some of them said he didn’t sound like a farmhand, they understood the reason for his accent when he told them he was from Hampshire. Everyone seemed to associate Hampshire with everything proper.
“Lady Letitia is here,” his employer said. “It seems she’s going to give a thank you to the people in the search party after the sermon. I thought you could go up there to represent us.”
“Me?” Sebastian widened his eyes.
His employer shrugged. “I wasn’t there. Besides, everyone knows how fancy you talk. I don’t want any of my men to frighten her.”
“Ah. They’re not very frightening.”
His employer smiled. “I like them too.”
Genevieve appeared, and Sebastian smiled. There was always a reason to smile in her presence.
“Sweetheart, this is my employer, Mr. Hopkins. Mr. Hopkins, this is my wife.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Hopkins,” Genevieve said.
“You got yourself a pretty lady,” Hopkins said amicably.
“I know,” Sebastian grinned.
“You have a wonderful life.”
“It’s perfect.” Sebastian grinned again.
Genevieve looked up at him in a startled manner, and he squeezed her hand, even though they were in church.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he asked. “You’re my everything.”
“Oh, Sebastian.” Her eyes glistened, and her voice trembled. “I love you too. So much.”
And everything was perfect.
Her cheeks were a lovely pink color, but she met his gaze. Memories of last night flooded him, and he longed to crush her to him.
Now, he contented himself with sitting beside her. Mother and Billy smiled at him, and he beamed back.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
GENEVIEVE REFUSED TO worry. This was simply church. Unfortunately, the church was crowded. She sat in her pew and scrutinized the other parishioners. Many spoke rapidly to one another, as if eager to impart gossip with the utmost speed, even if the process entailed chatting where everyone could hear. Nobody spoke of Mayfair or Almack’s or Ascot, and gradually Genevieve’s shoulders relaxed. Obviously, she was being foolish. She was simply married to a local farmhand here in Cornwall.
Except she wasn’t truly married.
She swallowed hard, trying to pretend this was real. Sebastian loved her. He’d said so, right here.
And I love him.
Finally, Mr. Ackley entered the front of the church and strode toward the altar. He moved regally, and the congregation stilled.
The service moved quickly, even though Mr. Ackley refrained from discussing hellfire. Genevieve relaxed into her pew. The hard wood no longer felt uncomfortable, and her shoulders eased.
“I would like to thank the men who participated in the search party.”
Genevieve straightened.
Search party?
“It is wonderful to see our men working together to find a missing person,” Mr. Ackley said. “This is what makes our community wonderful. This is what makes the Lord wonderful.”
Genevieve glanced at Mama. Perhaps Genevieve was overreacting. Perhaps Mr. Ackley was simply referring to some Biblical story, and Genevieve was imagining extra words.
“As you all should know by now, the Duke of Sandridge went missing in this region over a week ago,” the vicar said
Genevieve’s hands suddenly grew hot. Genevieve fought the urge to tear her gloves off. Nothing, after all, would relieve the uncomfortable sensation moving through her. Sebastian glanced toward her. No doubt, he’d sensed her distress, as if he were an actual husband.
“Are you well, my dear?” he whispered. “It’s a sad story.”
“We would like to thank the brave men who worked to find this man,” the vicar continued. “Over a hundred of them worked together recently, some scouring the woods late into the night.”
Mama’s face grew an odd green color.
“Would the representatives from the participating farms please step forward?” Mr. Ackley asked.
Farms.
The words should have sounded benign. It had one syllable, for heaven’s sake. But instead, it caused Genevieve’s heart to move in an odd manner, as if ordered by a particularly gruesome gymnastics instructor at her finishing school. Her heart contorted itself, seeming to create new forms. If the ribs did not encase it, there seemed every chance her heart might actually start
to leap.
She wanted to continue pretending to be married to Sebastian because she loved him. She didn’t want a world where he despised her once again.
She glanced around the room. Mr. Ackley kept on looking to a pew in the front, and Genevieve reluctantly followed his gaze.
A few women sat in the front. This was not unusual, but their hats seemed to be lovelier than the other hats here. They were more outrageous, more fashionable, more French, and Genevieve’s heart ached.
She slunk downward.
“Will the representatives from the farms please step forward?” Mr. Ackley asked.
Then Sebastian rose.
Heavens.
The man loomed before everyone, all sparkling, shimmering blond locks, and all towering frame.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice trembling.
He smiled. “You’ll see, sweetheart.”
He couldn’t go up there.
She tugged on his arm, and he sent her a bemused look.
She sighed.
She couldn’t go about feigning actual illness.
“I love you,” she whispered, conscious her voice was frantic.
Sebastian only beamed. “I love you too.”
Then Sebastian strode up the aisle.
“It will be nothing,” Mama whispered, though her face remained an odd green color. “It’s always been nothing before.”
Sebastian was going to find out.
He was going to find out that she’d lied to him, and he was going to find out that she’d been letting him plow neighboring fields even though he was a duke.
Sebastian wouldn’t return to the cottage with her and her family after the church service. In fact, he’d never return to her ever. He’d never smile at her, he’d never laugh with her, and he’d never kiss her and make love to her and...
And no one would ever do that.
No one would marry a woman who wasn’t a virgin, and they certainly wouldn’t marry a woman who’d convinced a duke suffering from amnesia that he was her husband.
Not that Genevieve cared about some fictional husband. She’d already found the perfect one: Sebastian.
And soon, he would abhor her.
GENEVIEVE’S FRANTIC tone echoed in his ears as Sebastian strode up the aisle. Her voice did not vanish even when he reached the front of the church. Two women had joined Mr. Ackley. The younger woman must be Lady Letitia. The other woman must be her mother, for their facial features were similar.
A Duke Never Forgets (The Duke Hunters Club, #3) Page 13