At some point in the night, he woke up. He remembered he had lain with another man.
He had committed a vile act his minister would be ashamed to hear. He had committed an act he would be ashamed to tell anybody: his friends, his family, his servants, even strangers on the street. He wondered what it was about himself that had made him act in such a deplorable fashion.
And then he thought of Dorothea. He was to be married soon. And he had been unfaithful to her in an unspeakable manner.
His heart raced as William shifted in his sleep, folding his arms more tightly around Sebastian.
Chapter Nineteen
William slid underneath Sebastian’s arm, brushing against his warm skin, marveling again at what they had done and at how wonderful Sebastian was. The early morning light shone on Sebastian’s skin, and William traced his finger on the pale freckles dotting his forearm. Sebastian’s face did not freckle. William smiled, feeling as if he knew a secret.
The door slammed.
William jerked up. The rattling windows confirmed he had not imagined it.
The gatehouse’s only door led outside. Which meant somebody had opened the door. Blast. He had allowed himself to go to sleep, his arms wrapped around Sebastian.
He longed to linger in the narrow bed. Never mind that now. Somebody had seen them. Somebody could destroy them. Sir Ambrose had said he only needed evidence. Did he have it now?
He would not permit the thief to get away. The thought of Sebastian alone on his estate with a criminal running loose enraged him. The thought of someone who might blackmail Sebastian, bring him to court, humiliate him terrified him.
He snatched his coat and boots, his fingers trembling as he put them on. He glanced at his gun. No time to prime and load it. He grabbed his knife, hidden in his boot, and slipped outside, closing the door behind him. Sebastian looked so content as he slept, and speed was of such importance that waking him would only waste time.
His legs brushed against the dewy grass. English weather. At least India had the decency to concentrate all the rain in a few horrible weeks. He tried to spot the thief amidst the damp trees.
The grounds would be beautiful next month, but for now, in April, nature was still struggling to recuperate from its winter agonies. Some flowers pushed their bright heads through the soil, but for the most part, the landscape held its breath, waiting for something better. He scowled, thinking of the nice, warm bed he had abandoned.
A twig snapped. An animal? Both deer and foxes might be about in the early morning. Still, a human may have created the sound. William could not shake the idea. He crept in the direction of the noise, striving to remain unnoticed.
He spotted him: a man roaming through the forest in a dark cape. William followed him, leaping over fallen logs and mossy rocks.
“Stop! In the name of the King,” William’s voice boomed. “I am an officer of the Royal Army and you are trespassing.”
The man turned, his face covered by his dark cloak as he lifted up a hand to brush against his eyes. William rushed after him, abandoning his attempt to remain unseen. He was not a man out admiring the countryside on his morning stroll—he was a soldier, protecting the land.
The man disappeared into a wooded area near the manor house, scurrying in the direction of the English Channel. Perhaps he was a smuggler. Was it simply a local man trying to earn some money, setting rabbit traps on the estate? He shook his head. Something more organized, more sinister was going on.
William stopped running, hoping he might hear something. No doubt he had already frightened the thief away. He cursed. The man was nowhere to be found. All he had determined was that the thief did indeed exist.
He trudged back to the gatehouse, his head hung low. Most certainly the thief had seen William. With his arms wrapped around Sebastian.
This was not the sort of information he wanted lowlifes to have. This was not the sort of information he wanted anybody to have. He could get thrown out of the army. Sebastian did not need a scandal as the new Duke of Lansdowne. And if the thief had something to do with Sir Ambrose, if he was one of his swarthy employees, if he was willing to testify to what he had seen . . . He shivered, struggling to contain his nausea.
The day was less agreeable than the one before. He dreaded informing Sebastian of what had happened; he did not want to see panic cross his face.
He approached the gatehouse with trepidation. The Tudor house which had had a fairy-tale quality last night seemed more sinister, like a trap. He was reminded of the gingerbread house in Hansel and Gretel. At least he would see Sebastian. That was a consolation.
He pushed open the door. Sebastian was missing from the already-made bed. His heart lurched.
“Enter.” Sebastian’s deep voice came from inside.
William turned. Only Sebastian’s tousled locks betrayed their night. He patted his hair down self-consciously, combing it with his fingers.
William was relieved Sebastian had not left the gatehouse. He wanted more time with him. “I must look horrible.”
“Where were you?” Sebastian asked, arms crossed and jaw set. He stared at William.
“I thought I heard the thief.”
“And you went out by yourself? You could have gotten hurt. Why did you not wake me? Something might have happened to you, and I would never have known.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think . . .”
“Exactly.” Sebastian lifted his chin. On any other day, William would have thought him adorable. He still did think so, but he did not like getting into an argument with Sebastian. Especially after all that had happened the night before.
He shifted his legs awkwardly.
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked, his face contracting with worry again.
Lord, the man could read him.
“I am worried whoever woke me up may have seen us.” He avoided Sebastian’s eyes, hating the prospect of seeing his pain.
“Oh.” Sebastian’s shoulders suddenly looked less sturdy. “What did you actually hear?”
“A door slammed. I’m certain. And then I noticed a man in dark clothes running away. I tried to run after. Really, I did. But he eluded me.”
Sebastian wiped his brow. “Then someone saw us on the bed together?”
“I think so.”
“But how can that be? The door was locked. Did the man have a key? Was it—was it Mr. Crowley, do you think?”
“The elderly butler?” William shook his head. “No, not him.”
“Oh.” Sebastian looked like the world had just come crashing down on him. “I think I’ll sit back down.”
William nodded, swallowing. He would need to tell him everything. Sebastian might be in danger. They both might be.
“Also—”
“There’s more?” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes. When Sir Ambrose and I spoke, he implied he knew about my inclinations.”
“He did?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose he enjoyed tormenting you.”
“Yes. I suppose he did.” William paused. “He also seemed to think my affections were toward you.”
“Oh.” Sebastian fingered the tablecloth. “Did he think your affections were returned?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
“And then I went to find you in the castle,” Sebastian said. “I wish you had told me beforehand what kind of a man he was.”
“I tried to. You wouldn’t listen.”
“If Sir Ambrose tells anyone, why, we both might hang.”
“It’s a silly law.”
“But it is the law.”
“It’s seldom enforced.”
“But people do hang sometimes.”
“I suppose they do.”
Sebastian shuddered, no doubt imagining being sent to jail, waiting for the hangman’s noose. “Couldn’t you imagine them wanting to set an example?”
William was silent. If not hanged, they might be branded, castrated, or
tarred and feathered.
“Good lord. And if there’s a trial, everyone would know.”
William nodded grimly. “Do you think I don’t know that?”
“Then why?” Sebastian looked flummoxed.
“Because you’re irresistible.” William stepped closer to Sebastian. “Because you’re good and kind and wonderful. If occasionally very frustrating. Because I adore you. We could be together. Some men are able to do it, they just don’t tell people the true nature of their friendship. If we—”
“Stop it. I cannot do this. I have responsibilities for heaven’s sake.” Sebastian lifted his eyes to William. His voice trembled. “I should go back to the house. If you so desire another man’s touch, go back to the molly house. Leave me out of it.”
“You think entering into a loveless marriage will make people happy? You’re dooming yourself to become a bitter, repressed man. No, wait—you already are.”
William swung away, his heart aching, as Sebastian pushed past him. Had he just been about to confess his love for Sebastian? Surely he could not have been that foolish. Sebastian was right, William would have to learn to resist him. How silly he had been imagining the possibility of having the romantic love others had.
*
Sebastian hurried to the manor house, attempting to keep himself composed. William was impossible. Attractive perhaps. Even well meaning. But impossible. How had he neglected to mention Sir Ambrose suspected them? How could he have put them at such risk?
“Good morning, Sebastian,” Penelope said, seated outside. A book lay on her lap. “Have you had a morning stroll?”
“Yes, I have been examining the new wildflowers.”
“Did they agree with you?”
Sebastian considered his morning. “I hope to enjoy the rest of my day ensconced in the safety of my home.”
Penelope laughed. “Wildflowers are not meant to really be ferocious.”
“Then I am certain I am particularly prone to seeking the comfort of the familiar, for the last twelve hours have been antagonizing.” He continued past his cousin, ignoring her bewildered expression.
He reached the door to the manor house, grasped the cold brass handle, and pushed it open.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Crowley’s bass voice boomed at him as the door swung open. The butler ushered Sebastian in.
Sebastian took a step back, surprised. “I’ve grown accustomed to not having you greet me.”
An expression of discomfort crossed over the butler’s face. “This is the first time I have been able to do so. I am a busy man.
Crowley leaned closer. “I wanted to make certain that you arrived safely back.”
“I see.” He should never have left the house.
Sebastian pushed past him.
He spent the rest of the day in his library. Every sound outside the heavy walnut doors jolted him. Somebody had discovered his inclinations. And now he must wait to see what the person would do with the information, if the person would try to tear his life apart, forcing scandal upon his family.
He longed for the way things had been before. Had he never met William, even if he might never have enjoyed the benefits of a truly romantic attachment, he might have concentrated on being a good estate manager. He could have taken up the former duke’s seat in the House of Lords and thrown himself into politics. Though he never relished the thought of speaking in public, he could have worked on creating worthy policies.
Maybe he could still do those things, maybe he could extinguish any rumor. He might find things to distract himself from the ache in his chest whenever he thought of William.
How had he imagined that he deserved happiness? When he had already been blessed with wealth, status, and a caring family? How presumptive of him to desire more from his life. Dorothea desired the marriage. How could he take that away from her? And how could he have risked William’s life, his livelihood, by entertaining notions that they could ever be together? Perhaps a duke might escape the noose, but William’s status was lower and less immune to the ferocious courts.
And now William was in pain, and he was all to blame. He, who had only wanted to adore William. The Bible was correct: Sebastian’s nature was vile, intrinsically flawed.
He tossed in his bed, worried his betrothed might hear him on the other side of the wall. She would not appreciate it if he paced the room. But pacing was what he wanted to do.
Scratching sounded outside.
William.
His heart jolted. Perhaps William was trying to see him. He threw on his dressing gown, following the sound on the balcony. He didn’t know what he would say to William, but he yearned to see him again. William had already enriched his life so much. They should never have fought.
A loud crash and a high-pitched scream stopped him. The sound came from the next room over. From Dorothea’s room.
He bounded to the hallway, his bare feet sinking into the heavy Oriental carpet. He scrambled to find a lantern in the inky darkness and cursed that he had blown his out before. Another scream jarred him. Never mind the light now. He rushed to Dorothea’s room, swallowing as he pushed the door open, overcoming his misgivings of entering a lady’s chamber.
“Sebastian?” Dorothea’s voice trembled.
It pained him to hear her sound so miserable.
“Is that you?”
“What happened?”
“Somebody broke in through the balcony. I think I chased him away.”
Sebastian rushed through the room. He noticed with a frown that the door leading to the balcony was still open, letting cold air in. He stepped outside and scanned the horizon, searching for the burglar. An overcast sky obscured the view, and he saw no one.
With reluctance he returned inside. Dorothea lit a candle, illuminating the room. Which was messy. Very messy. The chair of her dressing table was overturned, and her makeup was scattered over the room. He bent down to pick up the rouges and powders.
“I’m afraid the burglar collided with the dressing table.”
“He also seemed to have collided with a vase,” Sebastian said, eyeing the coral and jade shards of porcelain amply spread about the room.
“No, I—I threw that at him. And then he walked into the dressing table.” Dorothea laughed weakly.
Sebastian’s heart sank. His fiancée should not be defending herself against criminals. It was only luck that she had managed to be triumphant. He had heard the noises. He should have prevented the intruder. He would have been able to prevent it had he not been overwhelmed by his own lustful thoughts that ignored all logical reasoning.
“We must marry soon.”
“Oh?” Dorothea tilted her head as she gazed at him. “Are you implying we will be one of those scandalous couples who share rooms?”
Sebastian grimaced. “I will do what it takes to protect you. I fear I have been woefully negligent in my duties until now.”
“You have had no duties at all.”
“Exactly. I do not want harm to fall upon you.”
Dorothea smiled. “That is very kind of you, though I do not consider you to have been in any form negligent.”
“That may be so,” Sebastian said. He knew in his heart he had failed her. “Perhaps we should have the wedding earlier than planned.”
Dorothea raised her eyebrows and smiled. “That would please me very much, Your Grace.”
Somebody knocked on the door. “Miss Carlisle! Miss Carlisle! Are you fine?”
“I am quite in order,” Dorothea said. “You may come in, Crowley.”
Crowley rushed into the room, wringing his hands.
“I heard such a commotion. I thought it came from your room . . .” His eyes grew wider as he examined the disheveled appearance of the room, finally settling on Sebastian, who shifted under the increasingly accusatory eyes of his employee.
“I did not realize this was a private matter,” Crowley said.
“It is not,” Dorothea said. “My room was invaded through th
e balcony, and the duke was kind enough to look after me.”
“How noble,” Crowley said, narrowing his eyes at Sebastian.
Heat rushed to Sebastian’s face.
“The new duke is very chivalrous,” Dorothea said. “Why, he has just now vowed to hold the wedding earlier.”
“But now I should go.” Sebastian bowed, conscious of Crowley’s eyes on him. “Please call me if the intruder returns.”
“Would you like me to get one of the maids to make up a new room for you?” Crowley asked Dorothea.
She shook her head. “I will not keep anyone else awake at this late hour. Please send someone in early in the morning. I would hate to be reminded of the intruder later on.”
Sebastian left the room, avoiding Crowley. He had been alone in her room, and it had not even occurred to him to take advantage of the situation. He would have to learn to do so later on. They would need to get married in the utmost haste: he would not leave her vulnerable to unwanted intruders, nor would he let her brother risk his career and life by paying him attention.
Sebastian’s hands shook as he pushed open the door to his room. He had done the right thing, he was confident, but he felt as if he were the one who had been attacked by the intruder.
Chapter Twenty
The pub was perfect. Dark and almost noisy enough to obscure his thoughts, which continued to relive the glorious night with Sebastian and the far worse days which followed. William settled into the faded velvet armchair, clutching his drink. His shoulders drooped. Right now, his brandy was the only thing keeping him from sliding off.
Sebastian was to marry. Tomorrow morning. Tonight was a pre-wedding party. The dowager duchess herself would be attending the festivities.
Dorothea’s admirer, the rugged man passing a note for him to give to her outside the London townhouse, had not managed to separate them. William felt a twinge of guilt that he had never passed the man’s love letter on to her. Well, he would not have his sister consorting with ruffians. The stranger would not be able to mar the wedding.
Celebration indeed. His heart panged in that same peculiar fashion that it had after his first day of war, when cannons and grenades tore some of the men he was close to apart. A dull sensation had overcome him along with the realization that the world he perceived simply did not exist.
The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex Book 1) Page 21