“But who is to say?” William asked. “Did you know these things were going on before you arrived?”
“That has nothing to do with the butler.”
“It has everything to do with him. He should have informed you sooner of the disturbances.”
“Oh.” Sebastian contemplated his statement. Could he not even trust the butler? The responsibility of taking over the estate loomed before him.
William sighed. “Truly, it is unlikely he’s culpable. Perhaps he did not see a great enough need to contact you. He doesn’t know you, and the thief has only taken small items. But you cannot attest to his innocence. People are not always what they seem. You must understand.”
Sebastian nodded.
“Did Dorothea ever mention a Hammerstead to you?”
Sebastian tensed and his breath caught, remembering their encounter at the ball. “I had the pleasure of meeting him once. I did not find him overly amicable.”
“No?” William’s eyes studied him. “Then perhaps he is not to be trusted as well. Sir Ambrose has asked him to become the magistrate for this region. He is his nephew…”
“Do not worry,” Sebastian said. He put his hand on William’s arm, removing it when William stiffened.
He had behaved appallingly when he abandoned London. William was justified in being confused by his actions.
Why, then, had William insisted on coming to Somerset Hall to talk to him? Something must be worrying him. The ghost. “Are you convinced the ghost is a person?”
“Signs point to it, yes. Who, though, would want the manor to be devoid of servants and visitors?”
“Smugglers?” Sebastian suggested.
“Perhaps,” William said. “The practice has made the region famous.”
William opened his mouth as if to continue. Sebastian lingered on his eyes, transfixed by the richness of his smoky brown eyes. He broke the silence. “Reynolds rode his horse here from London without encountering anybody.”
“What good fortune the man has.” William bit his lip. “Is he here?”
“He just arrived.”
“Interesting.” William rose to go, looking awkward. “I should return to Lyngate now.”
The thought of William walking all the way back to Lyngate when he had only just arrived was too much for Sebastian to bear. Every moment of their encounter pained him, but the thought of not seeing him seemed worse.
“Stay,” Sebastian said. “Forgive me. Come inside. You can meet the others. Do not tell me the Lyngate barracks are more appealing to you on your day off.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sebastian led William through the garden to Somerset Hall, conscious of the captain’s eyes on him. Though the gardeners were absent, indications of the majestic place it had once been remained. The perennials bloomed. English primroses peeked out, spreading their cobalt blossoms. Before long, the roses would join them. They ascended the hill, past the apple orchard and creek, until the manor house loomed before them.
By the time they reached the house, the full force of the sun gleamed, radiating its splendor.
Penelope and her husband lounged outside, protected from the sun by a leafy chestnut tree that cast shadows over the house.
“Captain Carlisle?” His cousin rose, brushing off her white morning dress.
“What a pleasure to see you,” Reynolds deep voice boomed, and he scrambled from his chair and bowed. “Such a welcome surprise.”
“We have just been discussing how nice it would be for you to join us.” Penelope excelled at making anyone feel at home, even when the home was a set of chairs laid out on a flat grassy surface.
“Indeed?” William asked.
“I received a note from your dear sister. It is addressed to Sebastian, and I have not the heart to open it.”
“Not that she has not seriously pondered the idea,” Reynolds said. “I had to all but stop her from breaking into the kitchen to see if the steam rising from pots would unseal the letter.”
Penelope smacked her husband with affection.
Reynolds rubbed his shoulder in mock pain. “You must read it now. I doubt her ladyship can take the suspense much longer. I certainly cannot.”
Sebastian took the letter from Penelope, opening it with trepidation. He stared at the perfectly formed letters his fiancée had made.
Penelope tapped her foot with impatience as Sebastian scanned the letter. “Well?”
“She says she made arrangements to come visit us. She should be here in a few days.”
“How wonderful! I am so pleased.” She clapped her hands in excitement. “I am certain you are awfully pleased as well. Look how you are blushing!”
The others turned to him. Dorothea was arriving. Soon. Living in his home. Though that was silly, she would be living with him for the rest of his life. A few days from now would be the beginning of the rest of his life.
“I am delighted,” Sebastian said, ignoring the surge of sudden pain. “The more company, the better, right?”
“Such lovebirds,” Penelope said.
“Really, Lewis just died,” her husband said.
“All the more joyful!” Penelope smiled. “And besides, Dorothea has been in mourning for him. It is proper she find a husband, and how wonderful that he should be Sebastian.”
Sebastian found the whole conversation dismaying. Formerly engaged women possessed few options, and Dorothea’s and his marriage would be merely to alleviate her situation. Why does everyone assume we are in love?
He gazed at William, who wore a tight smile on his face.
“Excuse me.” Sebastian headed through the French doors into the parlor.
He wandered inside, anxious to find a place to think. Outside, he heard William working up a conversation with Reynolds about building fortifications. How calm the man was.
Sebastian sank into a winged armchair. After a while, a rustle sounded. Penelope stood before him.
“You are unhappy,” Penelope said.
“Nonsense.” He did his best to smile, hoping to convince her.
His cousin wrinkled her brow, biting her lip as she stared at him. His acting skills needed improvement.
“William tells me people might be pretending there is a ghost here on purpose to keep people away,” Sebastian said, anxious to change the subject, ignoring William’s prior pleas for secrecy.
“Is that what you are worried about?”
He nodded. It may not have been the main thing he worried about, but it was something he worried about. Penelope did not need to know all his worries.
“I think it would do you good to visit Hensley village. It might assuage some of your concerns,” Penelope said.
“How wise you are.”
“Naturally.” Her eyes twinkled. “It is good for someone to be an example for you to aspire toward.”
“Will you accompany me?”
“I imagine Marcus and Captain Carlisle would find the excursion equally pleasurable.”
“Then we shall all go.” Sebastian attempted again to smile.
*
The visit was unsuccessful.
They arrived back at the estate, exhausted and worried at not finding a single local to speak with.
The butler gave Sebastian a letter. Had one of his society friends discovered he was in Sussex? He opened the invitation.
“Sir Ambrose invited us for dinner at his home.”
“I do not think Sir Ambrose is quite the company you should aspire to keep,” William said.
Sebastian frowned. “First you practically forbade us to come to Sussex, and now you want to influence our company?”
“Dear Captain Carlisle,” Penelope said, “the baronet may not be to everyone’s taste, but his support will be vital to us.”
Sebastian considered this. Perhaps Sir Ambrose was just the person they wanted to speak to. Perhaps he could help them. He hoped so.
“I am afraid you can no less restrict our company than you could restrict our moveme
nts,” Sebastian said. “We Lewises are highly independent.”
William flushed at the veiled insult.
“Come, Captain Carlisle. Sir Ambrose has invited you as well. He does not hold as negative an opinion of you as you seem to hold of him,” Penelope said.
“Our captain’s suspicious nature served him well when fighting in India and has convinced him to devote his time to fortifying the coast, but he should know that Sir Ambrose is hardly likely to overwhelm him with a gun,” Reynolds said.
The others laughed at the thought while William’s face darkened. “Forgive me. Naturally, it will be an honor to visit your neighbor.”
*
William found his time with the new duke bittersweet. After the awkward meeting in the gatehouse, a steady pattern of visits had evolved. William and Sebastian avoided each other, but William could not bring himself to halt the visits entirely. No doubt he was foolish for returning. Somerset Hall drew him. The chance to see Sebastian, to be in his company, overwhelmed any sense he maintained during work. His fate seemed to forever be reminded of the other man’s charms.
One day, carriage wheels scraped on the pavement outside. William tensed.
“Your fiancée.” Penelope smiled at Sebastian and nodded at William. “And your sister.”
They rose from their chairs, heading to the main entrance. The servants had already gathered outside. Though they were not yet married, Sebastian desired his fiancée to receive a proper welcome. Dorothea disembarked from the carriage, shielding her eyes from the spring sun. She appeared frail against the large coach.
Any hope William had for a short stay was dashed when the servants unloaded many trunks from the carriage . Likely she carried a separate trunk just for her jewelry. This was not a woman who intended a brief visit.
William knew she had visited Somerset Hall while engaged to Lewis, and despite himself, he felt a pang of jealousy when the servants flashed broad smiles in greeting. Sebastian approached her first, his blond curls shining in the sun.
“Miss Carlisle.” Sebastian bowed to her.
“Your Grace.” She curtsied.
“What a delight to see you,” Sebastian said. “I trust your journey was pleasurable?”
“As pleasurable as it could be. I am keen to reacquaint myself with the manor.” She looked up at the house.
“It seems you are quite popular with the staff.” Sebastian indicated the row of servants who awaited her.
Dorothea smiled. “I was once to be their mistress.”
“And so you shall be again.”
“I shall be honored.”
Each nicety clutched at William’s heart. Well. It wasn’t as if Dorothea could admit she had hurried over to ascertain that the wedding would take place or to see her secret admirer. His fingers clenched, angered again at the thought.
Dorothea swiveled, her dark eyes peering at him beneath her curls. She stiffened.
William looked at her with defiance. “How did you find your journey?”
“As delightful as a twelve-hour carriage ride can be.”
“I was nearly shot on my journey,” William said.
“Were you?” Sebastian’s eyes widened. Even Dorothea looked shocked.
“I see the highwaymen did not choose to make an appearance for you.”
Dorothea shook her head.
“Quite appropriate. You are far too imposing for them. An admirable quality,” William said.
His sister flushed. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”
“I could hardly keep away.” William had not seen Dorothea since their argument, and he could see not much had changed between them.
“Is this your first visit to the manor? Shall I give you a tour?” The question appeared innocent, but William knew the answer held the utmost significance to his sister.
He paused, shifting, not wanting to confess this was not his first time at the manor. In the end, he did not have to.
“Your brother? Why he has been here several times. He must have developed quite a fondness for walking with the amount of times he’s sauntered over here,” Penelope said.
“The South Downs are most pleasant,” William said. “The chalky cliffs and rolling hills please the eye.”
“You see?” Penelope laughed. “He should have been a painter. Or a poet.”
Dorothea winced. “My brother has always displayed the strangest romantic tendencies.”
“How sweet,” Penelope said. “Such a shame he is unattached. He will make some woman a lovely husband one day.”
“Do you know of any eligible women in the area?” Dorothea turned to Penelope eagerly.
William noticed Sebastian watching the interaction. Penelope sighed. “I am afraid they are all in London.”
William smiled. “What a pity.”
Dorothea frowned, following Penelope inside.
“It must be a pleasure for you to have your sister here,” Reynolds said to William.
William nodded. “We know each other too little.”
“Indeed.” Reynolds gazed at him intently.
William shifted, uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because the man played cards. Maybe he had developed a habit of reading others far too well.
“Shall we?” William gestured to the library. “Perhaps we can have a drink while Dorothea settles into her room.”
“Of course,” Reynolds murmured. “You do know your way about the place.”
Chapter Sixteen
Dorothea and Lady Reynolds occupied their time in planning an extravagant wedding. His sister took a distinct pleasure in torturing him by asking his thoughts on everything from decorations to fashions. He could not care less if his sister chose to wear a white wedding gown, as was growing popular, or a more adventurous color.
William clambered up the hill from Lyngate.
Tonight would be different. The evening would not be spent stealing surreptitious glances at Sebastian in the dining room and library.
William dreaded going to Sir Ambrose’s. The man unnerved him. If Dorothea were not also going, he might consider staying home. But Dorothea disliked the man more than he did, and he could not permit her to visit without him. He could not see her suffer. Sweat formed on the back of his neck, and his pace quickened.
His route to the manor passed the gatehouse where he had first encountered Sebastian. The small brick building looked innocuous, and he smiled, remembering Sebastian’s conviction it was connected to the strange happenings.
As if a passing vagrant was an unusual circumstance.
He inhaled. His heart rate quickened as he gazed about him. Nobody was in sight. He did not need to be at the manor house for a while—plenty of time to do a bit of investigating. Perhaps he might even distract himself from the unpleasantness of the upcoming evening.
The forest soared behind the gatehouse, and he crept on scattered leaves and twigs, their crunch alluding to memories of past storms and blustery days. He advanced, pressing his heel down on the ground first to avoid breaking a twig.
He fingered the pistol hidden inside his coat, ready for any highwaymen. He always kept a knife hidden in his boot as well. Cursing the conspicuous color of his uniform, he proceeded to the window. Crimson was not easily hidden, even in the thickened undergrowth.
He pressed his body against the brick wall of the gatehouse and peered inside the window.
All remained as he had last seen it: a bed, a table, and two chairs. Otherwise, the place was empty.
He crept around the gatehouse, pushing the door open with sudden force. Nobody leapt out, nobody screamed. He sighed. Had he hoped for adventure? Fortifying a coast that no enemy might ever venture on differed from the bustle of actual warfare. Regular visits to a man he would never again touch agonized him, as did observing his sister and Sebastian form a union that would doom them all to unhappiness.
Perhaps a distraction would suffice. He stepped into the house, ducking his head under the Tudor beams, and lowered himself on th
e impeccably made bed. If a thief did live here, he was a very tidy one. In fact . . . He crouched under the table and scanned his eyes over the corners of the room and frowned. Sometimes what wasn’t there was significant.
Spiderwebs. Not one single spiderweb.
Not that William had a great admiration for spiders. But he did notice their absence. Somebody spent time in this place. Not somebody who wandered there accidentally—somebody who stayed long enough to tidy the place. Perhaps the vagrant had set up a home there.
Surely the person isn’t Dorothea’s secret admirer?
William hurried to Somerset Hall, determined to set up surveillance to trap the culprit soon.
For a moment, he hoped the others would forget about the visit to Sir Ambrose’s.
They did not forget. At half past four, everyone dispersed to change. William remained in the parlor.
Lord Reynolds strolled down first, decked in breeches and a cobalt coat. But William’s heart jumped when Sebastian appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in an ebony coat and black satin breeches with an ivory cravat. His golden hair glistened.
Dorothea and Lady Reynolds came soon after.
Dorothea appeared regal in a high-cut deep aubergine dress, her dark curls framing her face. Lady Reynolds had donned a simple draped cream lace gown.
“You resemble a goddess,” Reynolds breathed upon seeing his wife. He held out his hand and said, “My Grecian woman.”
William smiled, his heart lurching at the expression of happiness he would never experience. “You two are most charming.”
Lady Reynolds beamed at him, and her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Dear Captain Carlisle, now you have returned to England, when will you get married?”
“Yes, William, do share.” Dorothea fixed her dark brown eyes on him.
He frowned, his stomach clenching. He turned to determine if the others had noticed the conversation. They had.
Lord Reynolds cocked his head, seeming all too intrigued by the exchange. Sebastian turned his back, paying enormous attention to the paintings lining the hall.
“I doubt I am the marrying type,” William said.
The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex Book 1) Page 17