Lady Letitia frowned slightly. “I am a good friend.”
“Indeed,” her mother said quickly. “Caring and considerate.”
Sebastian settled back against the seat of the coach. He regretted not taking his chaise, but Lady Letitia and her mother had insisted that someone with a new head injury should not be attempting a week-long journey to drive all the way back to Hampshire.
The logic had seemed sound, but he was tired of Lady Letitia listing all her good qualities, even those exaggerated, and having her mother confirm or elaborate upon them.
Sebastian didn’t have any doubts that Lady Letitia had come after him out of marital self-interest. She seemed to think that because he was a duke, and because she was pretty and fashionable, that they were an ideal match. They weren’t. Sebastian remembered being happy to postpone finding a wife, happy to assist Lucas in spying pursuits.
When he returned to Hampshire, Sebastian could return to his normal life of balls and brandy, gambling and races. The thought didn’t usher happiness into his heart. The thought of relentless balls, didn’t entice him. He didn’t want to sit in heavy smoke-filled rooms with men comparing the bosoms of their latest conquests in between games of whist. He didn’t want matchmaking mamas to promote the virtues of their daughters. He’d already had a wonderful marriage: with Genevieve.
He pushed thoughts of Genevieve away. He shouldn’t be thinking of Genevieve. Not now. Genevieve had betrayed him.
And yet, it was true: he wanted to be with Genevieve.
“Did you hear about Genevieve Devon’s father?” Lady Letitia asked. “He’s been going around London, asking for money. Absolutely pathetic.” She shuddered.
“You are very lucky to have been rescued from that family.”
“I didn’t know that,” Sebastian said.
“Indeed,” Lady Letitia’s mother continued, her eyes shining, perhaps excited at finally having captured his interest, more even than when she’d extolled her daughter’s embroidery and entertaining skills.
He frowned. “Do you think that’s why they were living under another name?”
“Obviously.” Lady Letitia’s mother guffawed. “They wouldn’t want anyone in the ton to find out where they were.”
“I see.” Sebastian tapped the edge of the coach thoughtfully.
Perhaps Genevieve hadn’t enacted some elaborate plan on him. Perhaps she’d simply needed to live in the cottage desperately, and perhaps her mother had declared him her husband out of desperation when the vicar and his family had happened upon them.
He frowned.
Obviously, this was simply what he desired to believe. It didn’t mean it was true.
He stared at the shifting landscape. The blue slivers of ocean had long vanished. He was returning to society with Lady Letitia. Perhaps one day he would marry her. Or perhaps, he would marry someone else.
And yet...
Leaving Cornwall didn’t seem like a good plan.
In fact, leaving Genevieve seemed like a terrible plan.
He’d been happy in Cornwall, even though he hadn’t known he was rich, hadn’t known he didn’t need to plow fields. He’d been happy because of Genevieve.
I love her.
When he’d come to Cornwall and argued with Genevieve, he hadn’t understood that her family needed to stay in their cottage. He’d been arrogant and argumentative. Was it any wonder that she’d protested?
Perhaps Genevieve had shot him, but he had been disguised as a highwayman. She’d been brave and wonderful.
He shouldn’t have allowed Lady Letitia to usher him into a carriage, away from everything he most prized.
“Please stop the coach at the next posting inn,” Sebastian said.
“Would you like to admire the scenery here?” Lady Letitia asked.
“I would like to catch the next coach to Cornwall.”
Lady Letitia furrowed her brow. “Back to Cornwall?”
“But surely that’s not necessary,” Lady Letitia’s mother said hastily. “You have just seen Cornwall. And the company outside Cornwall is superior.”
“Far superior.” Lady Letitia’s chin firmed. “It would be a mistake to leave.”
“In that I must disagree,” Sebastian said.
HE WAS GONE. IT WAS absolutely predictable, yet if someone had told Genevieve that someone had come in the night and carved out her heart, she would not have been surprised.
Her chest ached, and any movement seemed impossible. All she could think about was him, and all she could think of after was that he was gone.
Forever.
“I miss Sebastian,” Billy said.
“Genevieve misses him too,” Mama said.
“That doesn’t help,” Billy said.
“It will be quite fine,” Mother said.
“No, it won’t,” Genevieve said. “We misled him.”
“He didn’t say anything about evicting us this time,” Mama said brightly. “And he didn’t mention contacting the magistrate. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Genevieve simply stared at her. “Are you happy with what happened?”
“Nonsense,” Mama said. “But it could have gone worse. What we did was truly dreadful.”
“And yet we did it anyway.”
Mama shrugged. “I didn’t want your reputation ruined when Mr. Ackley saw you.”
“I’m quite certain my reputation is now thoroughly ruined.”
“Oh.” Mama sighed. “Perhaps Mr. Ackley Junior—”
“No,” Genevieve said.
Mama glanced at Billy. “The good news is that we will have Genevieve at home with us for quite some time.”
“Was she leaving?” Billy asked, bemused.
“Big sisters normally leave when they become older,” Mama explained.
“But not Genevieve.”
“No. Isn’t that wonderful?” Mama asked.
Billy looked at her skeptically.
“I think we should all leave,” Genevieve said. “I think we should never be here again.”
“But you love Cornwall,” Mama said.
“Cornwall wasn’t the only thing here I loved,” Genevieve said, and Mama looked at her thoughtfully.
Carriage wheels sounded, and despite herself, Genevieve dashed to the window. She hoped Sebastian had returned.
Instead, Mr. Ackley stepped from the carriage with Mr. Ackley Junior, and her heart tumbled.
“It’s Mr. Ackley and his son, Mama,” Genevieve said.
“See. We haven’t been ostracized,” Mama said. “You needn’t have worried about that.”
“Mr. Ackley’s face looks terribly grim,” Genevieve said.
“It always does,” Mama said blithely.
But when Mr. Ackley and his son entered the drawing room, Mama’s expression dimmed.
The vicar glowered as if he were going to confront the devil himself after a lifetime of lamenting the devil’s poor qualities.
“Mr. Ackley, Mr. Ackley Junior.” Mama curtsied, and Genevieve followed.
This time Mr. Ackley and his son did not bow. Instead, they stood rigid, as if bracing themselves for a task worse than avoiding a societal nicety, and wanting to practice being impolite.
“I have come to speak about your behavior at church,” Mr. Ackley said. “It was improper.”
“I believe we were quiet during the sermon,” Mama said.
“Speaking during services is not the only sin you can do,” Mr. Ackley said. “You should know. You seem to be well versed in setting a poor example.”
“Would you like some tea?”
“Papa wants you to leave the parish,” Mr. Ackley Junior blurted.
His father turned to him, and Mr. Ackley Junior shrugged. “I thought they should know.”
Mr. Ackley sighed. “My son is correct. You are setting a bad example to the congregation. In Cornwall, we expect better behavior.”
“You mean, if someone is a duke and forgets it, you expect a reminder?” Mama asked.
/> “I was thinking more that we do not expect unmarried men and women to live together,” Mr. Ackley said.
“Scandalous is the word he used at home,” Mr. Ackley Junior said. “And shameful.”
“You set a bad example,” Mr. Ackley said. “We would prefer you to live somewhere else.”
“Are you evicting us?”
“I thought there was no benefit to pretending otherwise.”
Mama frowned. “I don’t think you can—”
“Mama, perhaps it’s for the best,” Genevieve said. “Lady Letitia will be sharing this story through the ton soon. It might be beneficial to move.”
“I don’t have the money to move,” Mama said abruptly.
Mr. Ackley frowned. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why do you think we didn’t inform the duke of his identity at once? He wanted to evict us.”
“Despicable woman.” Mr. Ackley exhaled. “There’s another cottage you can live in. It’s smaller and not near the coast. We haven’t had anyone live in it because needs to be repaired—but I’m happy to have you live in it for no cost.”
“You are?” Genevieve asked.
Mr. Ackley nodded gravely. “Though I will ask that you not visit this community.”
“We would not be tempted,” Mama said forcefully.
“What sort of repairs does it need?” Genevieve glanced at Billy, before returning her gaze to Mr. Ackley. “Is it...safe?”
“Just a few broken windows. It doesn’t get so cold in Cornwall.”
Genevieve frowned. “Mama, we can’t—”
“Do you want to be the target of more gossip?” Mr. Ackley asked. “I assure you, I can make your time here unpleasant. The cottage is perfectly fine. It has a roof and a door with a lock. What more does a family like you need? You should be grateful.”
Mama’s face paled, then she nodded. “You’re correct.”
Mr. Ackley exhaled. “There’s a coach leaving tomorrow. I can put you on it.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” Mr. Ackley Junior told his father.
“It’s the charitable thing to do,” Mr. Ackley said. “Even for a fallen woman.”
Genevieve’s stomach twisted, she gazed at her mother, but Mama did not protest Mr. Ackley’s description of her.
Mama tried to distract her with moving. Now that Lady Letitia knew where they were living, there was little point in living a quiet life here.
Mama and Sally packed up the house. Genevieve attempted to help, but every object seemed heavy, and even folding clothes into the chest seemed an impossible task.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE WAVES TUMBLED AGAINST the shore. Normally Sebastian would relax against their soothing sound, but now he was focused on one thing: Genevieve.
He shouldn’t have left with Lady Letitia. Not without speaking with Genevieve. He’d allowed himself to think that everything with Genevieve had been false, but he’d never asked her why she’d acted as she had. He’d lived with her mother and her. He knew what they were like: wonderful. Why would they concoct a vile plot against him?
The idea was preposterous.
Finally, the coach neared the cottage. He made his way to the driver. “Please stop here.”
“This ain’t a stop.”
The duke raised his eyebrows and pressed some coin into the man’s hand.
The driver glanced at the shiny metal and grinned. “I would have done it for less.”
In the next moment, the coach had stopped, and in the moment after that, Sebastian was striding through a field toward the cottage.
He didn’t feel any regret, only lightness and happiness. This was certainly the right choice.
Finally, he arrived at the cottage.
He went to the door, clasped onto the handle, and—
Nothing.
The door was locked.
Sebastian stared at it, and his heart moved to a lower perch. He must be very near Genevieve, but a strange nervousness moved through him.
Surely, Genevieve was here.
But what if she wasn’t?
Sebastian went to the beach to see if anyone was there, but it was empty. Then he strode toward the frog pond in the woods, but it was similarly empty.
Finally, Sebastian decided to peer through the windows of the cottage.
The place was immaculate.
Perhaps too immaculate.
An odd feeling of dread moved through him.
They were gone—because of him. They’d asked him to understand, and he’d gone with Lady Letitia and her mother to Hampshire. Why would Genevieve and her family stay here? He’d been cruel when Genevieve had needed him most. She’d wanted to confess something to him earlier, and he’d instead lauded the present and future. He should have listened to her then. He shouldn’t have abandoned her.
Sebastian proceeded to run. He needed to get to the posting inn. Perhaps someone had seen where they’d gone. He ran over the dirt lane, and a few sheep stared at him with bemused expressions on their faces. He ran and ran and ran. His lungs burned, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Genevieve.
He passed Mr. Williams’ farm. A plow sat in the field, and he quickly scrambled over the fence and grabbed the plow, thankfully still attached to a horse.
“What are you doing?” Mr. Williams called out.
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian blurted. “I need to borrow this.”
“You can’t borrow a plow!” Mr. Williams shouted.
“I’ll buy it.”
“Nonsense.” Mr. Williams grabbed hold of the plow. “I forbid it.”
“Then I’ll buy the field.”
Mr. Williams hesitated. “Truly?”
“Truly. I am a duke.”
They settled on a price, then Sebastian was off, toward the woman he loved, dragging the plow behind him.
The horses moved methodically through the field. They were going to miss the coach. They were going to be too late.
Finally, he spotted a mail coach moving on a lane.
“IT’S SEBASTIAN!” BILLY screamed. “He’s plowing the field!”
Mama sighed. “You have a strong imagination, dear child.”
“No, it’s him!” Billy scrambled from his place on Mama’s lap and scurried to the window. The other passengers on the mail coach sighed heavily and muttered about the impropriety of traveling with children.
Mama flushed.
“No! It’s really him!” Billy pointed at the window.
Genevieve followed his gaze.
Then her heart stopped.
Billy was correct. Sebastian was sitting on a plow that was moving slowly toward the mail coach.
Heavens.
She poked her head out the window and waved. “Sebastian! Sebastian!”
The other passengers frowned.
“I suppose that child has just been raised poorly,” one of them muttered.
“Nonsense!” she exclaimed. “Billy is a wonderful boy.”
“Stop the mail coach!” Sebastian hollered. “Genevieve!”
“Sebastian!” Genevieve waved frantically.
His eyes brightened, and everything in the world was perfect. “Sweetheart!”
“Darling!”
“I love you,” Sebastian screamed.
“I love you too!” Genevieve yelled.
Genevieve’s heart was full. Unfortunately, the coach was rushing away from them.
She tried to get the attention of the driver. “Stop the coach!”
“I’m forbidden to do that,” the driver said pedantically.
“But please!”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then I’ll jump.”
The driver hesitated, then shook his head firmly. “It’s against our rulebook. We’re going twenty miles an hour.”
Genevieve hesitated. Twenty miles an hour was very quick. Heavens, she was going to lose him. She looked around. A wheat field was in the distance. Once the mail coach reached it, Genevieve opened the door qui
ckly, then jumped out of the coach.
She fell into long strands of wheat, and her body ached, as she rolled and rolled and rolled.
“Genevieve! Genevieve!” Sebastian’s voice came toward her. “Are you well, Genevieve?” He held her in his arms. “You must be well. I love you. I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
She was conscious of the coach wheels halting. No doubt, Billy and Mother and the maid were exiting the coach with their luggage, after all.
Genevieve opened her eyes, then tilted her head. “Who are you?”
His eyes widened. “I’m Sebastian, sweetheart. You don’t remember?” Anguish was in his voice.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t forget you.”
Then he chuckled. “You horrible woman. I love you so much.” Then he kissed her and kissed her. Finally, he smiled. “A duke never forgets either.”
EPILOGUE
MR. HAWTHORNE GREETED Sebastian as the coach arrived at his manor house. Genevieve and her mother were busy contemplating the grounds, and Billy had headed toward a lake in hopes of frogs.
“I trust you had a pleasant time in Cornwall?” Mr. Hawthorne asked.
“Very much so,” Sebastian said.
“It must have been tranquil and relaxing.”
“Less so than I would have imagined,” Sebastian said, remembering his work as a farmhand.
“Ah.”
“Please let me present my new wife,” Sebastian said, and Genevieve smiled and took Sebastian’s hand. “This is my estate manager, sweetheart.”
“How very nice to meet you,” Genevieve said.
Mr. Hawthorne blinked. “I was under the impression that—”
Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “Was there something you would like to say, Mr. Hawthorne?”
His estate manager shook his head hastily. “I—er—only didn’t expect to find you married. You seemed inclined toward bachelorhood.”
“No longer.”
“Apparently.” Mr. Hawthorne scrutinized Genevieve, then turned to Sebastian. “I am very happy for you.”
“I’m happy enough for everyone,” Sebastian said.
“You were quite eager to visit that cottage,” his estate manager said.
A Duke Never Forgets (The Duke Hunters Club, #3) Page 15