At the end of town, chalky white cliffs covered by lush green grass jutted over the ocean: this was the famed South Downs. Some of the off-duty soldiers sauntered up, the hilts of their swords sparkling in the setting sun. Their red uniforms gleamed against the grass, appearing for a moment like a field of swaying poppies. Somerset Hall lay on the other side of the hill, and for a few moments, he imagined Sebastian wandering his estate, more ordered and pristine than the jagged hill which loomed before William.
He had spent the day with General Hawtrey, searching for a good place to fortify the coast against Bonaparte. The general, a stout and exuberant man, threw himself into the task of finding a promising site and then, when they discovered one just west of the main town, threw himself into the task of celebrating the discovery appropriately with wine.
The beryl sky above reflected on the waves that crashed upon the shore in regular beats. William was reminded of a clock, counting down the moments until Bonaparte crashed through, carried by the rhythmic pull.
He strode along the coastline, nodding at the occasional soldier who passed him. He had no fears about his ability to conceal his desires from them, accustomed to being around men, even the handsome, muscular ones who populated the army.
He enjoyed working to fortify England. Britain had declared war again on Bonaparte last May, and they had been lucky that after nearly a year, Bonaparte had not stormed across the channel yet. England lay only six hours from France. If the First Consul managed to break through the English navy, the English army would struggle to keep the French forces from invading farther inland.
William lingered at the bottom of the hill that separated Sebastian from him. He sighed and veered away from the seafront, climbing another smaller hill leading to the town center. He needed to rid his thoughts of those blond locks.
His gaze rested on the half-timbered buildings as he ambled past the tiny doors to the homes. Lyngate may have remained small—there was a reason the town had not gained a coach stop until now—but some of the Tudor buildings possessed great charm.
Every once in a while, he looked back, his skin prickling with the sense that somebody was following him. He shivered. Several pubs lay ahead, and he entered one, eager for a distraction from his paranoia.
He pushed open the door and made his way past a crowded bar in search of an available seat. One of the volunteers, a young man named Joshua, nodded, and William sat opposite him. His new life beckoned; he should familiarize himself with it.
After exchanging greetings, Joshua leaned across the table. “Tell me, is it true Bonaparte might attack?”
William smiled, conscious the volunteer had seen him spend the entire day with the general. No doubt he thought William possessed all the best information. He shrugged. “Unfortunately, Bonaparte seems to have little else to focus on now.”
Joshua nodded, his face solemn. “France is not far away.”
“No, it is not. And right now too much of our army is abroad. We are a tempting target.”
“I imagine we can strengthen our land defenses faster than he can build a better navy.”
“Of course.” William smiled. They would strive to do all they could. They would build better defenses.
“My parents sent my sister to live with an aunt and uncle in Birmingham,” Joshua said. “They think the city would be hit less hard.”
“Indeed, the midlands would hardly be Bonaparte’s first place of attack. Are you from this area?”
“I have lived here my whole life. I would hate for anything to mar it. My girl is here.” Joshua turned to William. “Are you married?”
“I have been away in India, and now I’m here.”
“You have been around too many men,” Joshua said. “You need to be around some women for a change.”
“Well. None are here. You said yourself. Even your sister had to go to Birmingham.”
“Such a shame. You might have gone out together. Jemima is very pretty.”
“I am sure she is lovely.” William did not dwell on the misfortune that Joshua’s sister lived in Birmingham.
“Marriage. What a tricky affair. My sister, Jemima, did not get married last year when she could have, and now all the men are away. Volunteers here. I see them more than Jemima does.”
William wanted to make sure the conversation did not linger on Jemima’s availability. “What a fondness for Old Testament names your parents had.”
“It rather comes with my father’s profession.”
“His profession?”
“Minister.” Joshua took a swig of ale. “At the St. Catherine parish. He’s not taken with the idea of me serving abroad. That’s why I’m here. Maybe I’ll join anyway, if he doesn’t convince me to become a minister as well.”
William nodded, not wanting to discuss the merits of the army and lead the man away from his calling. He did not need more reasons for the heavens to be upset with him.
William leaned toward him. “If you notice anything strange, I would be interested in learning of it. My sister plans to move to the manor soon.”
Joshua tilted his head. “Your sister is Dorothea Carlisle?”
“She is.”
“Betrothed to the new duke?”
William nodded, surprised that Joshua was so acquainted with Sebastian’s engagement.
“Oh.” Joshua moved his tankard away. “I did not know I was speaking to the brother-in-law of a duke.”
“Future brother-in-law.”
“You must have been well born.”
William shrugged. “Well born enough. In truth, my sister made a good match. My parents did not possess much money in the end, but we were educated sufficiently.”
He was sharing much too much. But maybe that was fine. Joshua seemed more likely to trust him.
“The new duke does not lack resources.” A smile broke over Joshua’s face. “So he made a love match.”
“Some would describe it such,” said William. Joshua’s romanticism unnerved him. Did it appear to others that Sebastian had made a love match? His chest tightened, and he reached for his drink.
“Tell me, I heard much of the staff from Somerset Hall left, claiming the place was haunted.”
Joshua stiffened. “Only if you consider headless ghosts to be unusual. Something is not right about Somerset Hall.”
Joshua rose and saluted.
William nodded, contemplating Joshua’s sudden departure. I need to protect Sebastian.
*
Sebastian surveyed the view from his balcony. Or rather, he studied one particular thing in his view. He did not try to find swans and swords in the shifting clouds above him, their forms appearing in the pink glow of a rising sun. His eyes did not dwell on the grass, imagining himself lying upon its ever increasing heat. Nor did he rest his eyes on the landscaped pond and the rows of once perfectly manicured trees, or the various branches peeking out, escaping after years of pruning in the recent neglect.
He focused solely on the gatehouse.
The medieval house lay nestled against hefty chestnut and willow trees, its fading red bricks overshadowed by the onslaught of nature besieging it. Perhaps at one time the trees had not dominated the area, but the branches stretched and the trunks thickened as the gatehouse fell out of use.
Did somebody live there? No smoke drifted from the chimney. But spring had arrived, and a vagrant hiding would not want to draw attention to himself. He sighed. Should he ask Reynolds to search the place with him? Or he could just investigate alone. Now when it was still early, when only people unable to sleep were awake.
Reynolds, most likely, was enjoying being reunited with his wife, and Sebastian did not wish Penelope to learn of any attempt to explore the property: she might declare an intent to accompany them. She could hardly be locked up. Now was the time to go, before the rosy sky turned blue and the day officially began. Sebastian headed outside, anything to keep himself from contemplating William’s activities, there on the other side of the hills.
Sebastian followed the river down the slope, wandering deeper into the garden. He quickened his pace, determined to reach the gatehouse before any inhabitant woke up, or at least, made the bed. He peered over his shoulder, satisfied nobody followed him. He hurried through the gardens, past the hedges in need of trimming and the weeds spurting from the flower beds. How could Penelope even dream of inviting people here?
Making his way toward the gatehouse at the old entrance of the property, he headed to the door, careful to tread lightly. He stepped off the path, avoiding the carefully placed rocks—far too noisy for his purposes. His feet sank down into the soft soil, and mildew clung to his boots. Oh, well. Grayson would not be pleased when he arrived.
Something sounded. A thump. Something that did not quite sound like it belonged. Something like footsteps treading on a solid surface. He inspected the area, certain nobody was about. Satisfied he was alone, he pressed his ear against the wooden door. Metal clinked.
His heart raced. Perhaps he should have waited for Reynolds to wake up. He should at least have told somebody. After lecturing Penelope about the dangers of visiting the place, she would hardly suppose he had come on his own when he was not found. If he was not found, he strove to remind himself. Perhaps it was simply his imagination.
Yet the noises seemed to only grow louder, more forceful. For a moment, Sebastian wondered if he should leave his position. The door handle turned. The next moment he was plummeting into the gatehouse.
He gasped. Strong arms lifted him before he hit the ground. Arms that felt familiar, smelled familiar: like pine needles.
He gazed up, blinking, and shuddered, conscious of the warm grasp of William’s hands as he steadied him. What is William doing here? Mere inches separated his face from William’s, and he took in the familiar curve of his jaw. His face remained every bit as handsome, though dark rings now framed his magnetic eyes. A rosy flush spread on William’s face. His hair sprung out, wreathing his head in its dark curls, and Sebastian longed to touch his locks.
He was also almost certain William was smirking at him.
“You did that on purpose.” Sebastian brushed his clothes and did his best to regain his posture.
“Perhaps.” William smiled, his eyes glinting with humor. “Or perhaps you are unnaturally clumsy.”
Sebastian inhaled, struggling to regain control. He still felt William’s warm touch on him. “You opened the door quickly.”
“And you pressed your ear against it.”
Sebastian cringed.
“Whatever compelled you to do so?” William asked.
“I thought you were an intruder on my land. Which you are. You’re supposed to be in Lyngate.”
“Next time, conduct your investigations with more stealth. You were visible from the window of the gatehouse.”
“Oh.” Sebastian frowned. Yes, William is most certainly smirking now.
“Never mind,” he said. As a retort, it lacked effectiveness.
“Wait. How did you know I was supposed to be in Lyngate?”
Sebastian gazed down. Dried leaves blanketed the ground, all various shades of brown. “Maybe I’m not the only person bad at maintaining secrets.”
Sebastian yearned to leap into William’s arms. Not doing so took quite a bit of effort.
“So we meet again, Captain Carlisle.” Sebastian stepped back and straightened his shoulders. This was not turning into a good day.
William’s face clouded, and he bowed. “An unexpected occurrence, Your Grace.”
“Surely you cannot be surprised to find a man on his own land.”
“I have noticed a tendency in you to abandon your home with little notice. It is an unusual pleasure to find you so settled.”
Sebastian flushed at the veiled insult. Indeed, he had left London suddenly. Had William worried about him? He pushed the thought from his mind. William had no right to concern himself about him. Then Sebastian remembered where they were. He frowned. “Have you come to call upon your sister? She is not here.”
William sighed. “You need not worry. I am not staying long. I did want to speak with you.”
Sebastian entered the tiny gatehouse and scrutinized the inside. The bed seemed most inviting. More inviting than any bed should be, particularly when it had either been made during Capability Brown’s time forty years ago or had been slept in by a thief.
Unless William was responsible for the abandoned apples.
His eyes focused on the bed. “Captain?”
William turned. Tension filled the air. Once again the sensation of William’s touch, the memory of wrapping his legs and arms around William, filled Sebastian.
“Let’s go outside,” William said.
They strolled in silence. What would William want to talk about? Did he want to discuss the incident in Sebastian’s bedroom? How would he reply?
Sebastian remembered William pushing him down on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. Kissing him. Everywhere. He relived those moments often enough since then, alternatively horrified and yearning.
Maybe William wanted to continue doing those things.
“If this is about the other morning . . .” Sebastian inhaled. The words he was about to say, which he needed to say, stuck in his throat. Still, he persisted, “I am afraid I was caught by surprise. I was asleep when you came in. I—I was not myself.”
“I see.” William’s face hardened, but his voice quivered as he asked, “I suppose you will say I forced myself upon you?”
Sebastian regarded the muscles twitching in William’s jaw. The man exuded strength and capability. Still, they both knew Sebastian could ruin him if he chose.
“No. No, of course not,” Sebastian hastened to say, eager to assuage any fears William might have. “The incident was a misunderstanding. I will not tell anyone what occurred. I hope, though, that we will never speak of it again.”
William’s brow furrowed. “As you wish.”
Sebastian wondered why William did not seem more relieved. He should be happier knowing his reputation was not in danger.
William cleared his throat. “I hoped to discuss another matter.”
Sebastian nodded. He stepped on fallen twigs and hoped the sound of his feet crunching them together would not draw attention. How was it that even in this deserted woodland, on a private estate with few staff, he still feared somebody would find him with William? A tree had fallen, and they ambled toward its trunk, splayed on the ground over a small creek. William gestured, and Sebastian climbed on top of it and sat, his feet dangling in the air. The space between them seemed very large. William smirked and settled next to him.
“Have you heard about the ghost who resides here?”
This was not what Sebastian had expected. Not at all. “I have—”
“Did you see him? Or her?” William scrutinized him.
Sebastian raised his eyebrow.
This was definitely not what he expected William to discuss on their first meeting after the incident. Even though he had forbidden William from broaching the topic, he wished William had indicated that the snatched minutes they spent together in Sebastian’s apartment had meant something to him. He felt foolish for even bringing the incident up. Likely army men did all sorts of strange things together when no women were around that did not mean anything. It was only Sebastian who attached too much significance to the event.
Sebastian contemplated William’s statement. “I imagine you are familiar with the belief that ghosts only exist in stories? Personally, I always subscribed to that notion.”
William blushed. “Some people believe them to be real.”
“Are you one of them?” This was a whole new impression of William. The captain in the British army who believed in ghosts, pondering their gender.
“No!” William looked affronted and then relaxed, running his fingers against the mossy bark. “I have reason to believe somebody might be saying Somerset Hall is haunted deliberately to keep people away.”
/> “Oh. That is different, more understandable.”
“Yes.”
“But there is a problem with that,” Sebastian said.
“Indeed?”
“Something strange has been happening. Things were stolen, and people have heard strange noises at night. I have heard strange noises at night.”
“What was stolen?”
“Well, that is the thing. Nothing of much importance. Some old clothes. Can you imagine?”
“Really?”
“And Lady Reynolds is convinced somebody is living in the old gatehouse.”
“Why?” William asked. He looked alarmed. “Was that why you were leaning against the door?”
Sebastian stiffened. “I was trying to listen for mysterious noises. If you had paid more attention—”
“But that is dangerous.” William’s expression darkened. “You must never do that again. What if I had been a more dangerous person?”
Sebastian thought William had affected him more dangerously than any other person he had ever met but decided against saying so. “It was just an idea Penelope had . . . it may not be true.”
“What gave her the idea?”
“Well, she spotted some food on the table, and the bed had fresh linens on it.”
William nodded.
“I mean, it could be there just for one of the servants,” Sebastian continued, “but we do not have a servant working in the gatehouse. We do not even use it anymore. Capability Brown moved the entrance to the estate, so there is little point. I suppose I could ask the butler.”
“Do not ask the butler.” William’s voice deepened with authority.
Sebastian raised his eyebrow at William’s assertiveness. “May I remind you that you do not hold any claims to this property or to any of its contents?”
“Forgive me. I am speaking out of place. I only meant you don’t know whom he might speak to. For all we know, he himself has been responsible.”
“I doubt the butler disguises himself as a ghost.”
“Perhaps not.”
“Nor do I believe he goes about stealing things.”
The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex Book 1) Page 16