If slowly ebbing pain did not preoccupy him, he would have been less blunt. As it was, he only encouraged Miss Kelmsleigh to see matters in the worst light.
She strode up the path toward the house. “I see that you are as cruel as I thought. Your goal is to humiliate me, to what purpose I do not know.”
He trailed her and barely resisted grabbing her again, to prove he was right. “I succumbed to an impulse, and to the lure of a very pleasant memory. And the goal, in case you did not notice, was mutual pleasure. However, you are correct. I should not have, so I must apologize again.”
“For all the good that seems to do!” They emerged at the garden’s edge, near the corner of the conservatory. Two bonnets on two women stayed turned away, as if ignorant that he and Miss Kelmsleigh were even in the county, let alone nearby.
Miss Kelmsleigh pointed to the far corner of the garden wall. “I do not want an apology, Lord Sebastian. I only want you to leave. There is a garden portal over there. You do not have to go back through the house.”
“Certainly. Good day to you, and thank you.”
“Thank me?”
“For the tour of the garden. For your hospitality.”
He bowed. She glared. He smiled. She blushed. He looked in her eyes.
She turned and ran away, toward the greenhouse.
Chapter Six
“I must leave early today,” Sebastian said. “I have an appointment with Castleford in the City.”
“Duty always comes first, of course,” Morgan said. “I am glad to see that you are able to negotiate with Castleford. I fear that I was never able to hide my dislike of the man and his notorious behavior. That is why you have proven effective in government so quickly. You have an ability to treat with scoundrels such that they do not perceive your disdain.”
“Perhaps that is because they believe I am a scoundrel too, and do not hold them in disdain. Maybe they think we are fellow travelers.”
“Nonsense. Your wilder past was the norm for young men. You never did anything truly dishonorable. Not like him.”
Sebastian was not going to argue about his own character, least of all to convince Morgan it had more blemishes than Morgan knew. The truth was that the Duke of Castleford did see a fellow traveler when he spoke to Sebastian, because in the past they had trod the wilder paths side by side.
Now their association, for all its amicable appearance and practical usefulness, was that of two fighters facing off, pacing around and looking for the weakness in the other. Castleford found it inconvenient that Sebastian had taken Morgan’s place in public life. When Morgan had faced a political fight, he retreated.
“Kennington and Symes-Wilvert are coming by anyway, so you won’t be missed,” Morgan said. “My morning will be busy.”
“I will leave now, then.”
Sebastian’s valet waited outside Morgan’s apartment bearing hat and gloves. Set for the day, Sebastian headed down to the street.
Percival Kennington and Bernard Symes-Wilvert entered the house just as Sebastian was leaving. Both second sons of barons, they had been Morgan’s friends since their early school days. They visited at least once a week, always together like this, always in the morning because Morgan tired by afternoon. Both blond and ruddy and battling corpulence, they could have been brothers despite their disparate sizes. Kennington was the big pea to Symes-Wilvert’s small one in the pod they shared.
Sebastian had never found either man interesting, but he had grown fond of them in the last year for their devotion to their old friend.
“Are you leaving, Summerhays?” Kennington said. “We had hoped to cajole you into a game of cards.”
“I regret I will have to decline today.” Relief tempered by guilt struck its discomforting note in him. Those whist sessions usually stretched into tedium. Kennington and Symes-Wilvert would pick over old social gossip, or quiz Sebastian on government doings, and he would dodge questions that were none of their business. Morgan would bask in the rare pleasure of having friends around.
“We will go up, then,” Kennington said. “Perhaps we will still be here when you return.”
“I will be sure to check. Yes, please go up. He is waiting for you.”
Morgan’s visitors aimed for the staircase. Sebastian aimed for his horse. His meeting with Castleford was not for over an hour, and he had somewhere else to go first.
“If we stay here much longer, all the inhabitants of that hotel are going to misunderstand the reason,” Celia said.
“What do you mean?” Audrianna asked.
Celia rolled her eyes. “Two young women, displaying themselves to every traveler looking out those windows? Think about it.”
It only took a moment to comprehend. “That is a disgraceful prejudice on their part.”
On the other hand, they had stood across Jermyn Street from Miller’s Hotel for only ten minutes, and already she felt conspicuous.
“What is your purpose in coming here at all?” Celia asked. “If I had known that you intended to hold a vigil outside a hotel, I would have never accompanied you into town in the first place.”
“I hope to see the man who intruded at that inn.” Audrianna had given a very brief version of the events at the Two Swords to the household. There was no other way to explain Lord Sebastian’s visit, or to be honest with Daphne about that pistol. “The Domino was a foreigner, I think. I am told they often stay at this hotel. I had hoped . . .” What had she hoped? That if she stared at the façade of Miller’s Hotel long enough, the Domino would just appear?
Something like that, she admitted to herself. She had hoped for a miracle.
“Let us walk on,” Celia urged.
Just then a man emerged from the hotel. His appearance arrested Audrianna’s attention. His hat reminded her of the Domino’s, with its low crown and soft brim. She peered hard at him as he walked along the other side of the street.
He did not have red hair, but she could have been wrong about that, what with the firelight. Only he looked too tall as well. Even the way he moved—
“Oh, my,” Celia muttered under her breath. “Now this is an interesting coincidence.”
Audrianna turned her attention in the direction of Celia’s gaze. Lord Sebastian Summerhays was riding down the street.
“Let us go.” She pivoted and dragged Celia in the opposite direction.
“It is very rude not to greet him,” Celia said. “I am sure that he saw you.”
“I do not want to speak to him. Hurry along now.”
“You are blushing badly, Audrianna.” Celia swallowed a giggle. “What happened when he visited? Is there more to this story than you have told us?”
“Nothing happened,” Audrianna said. “He was rude and I—”
“Miss Kelmsleigh? Ah, yes, so it is. I thought that I recognized the mantle.” The voice, very close, stopped Audrianna in her tracks.
She turned to see a superior leather boot flanking a very large black horse. She raised her gaze to the face looking down at her. Lord Sebastian had removed his hat in greeting. He sat there like a conqueror surveying the spoils of war.
“Lord Sebastian, what an unexpected encounter.” Audrianna had intended never to see him again. She felt her face warm. Memories of those caresses in the garden poured into her head. She introduced Celia.
“Are you strolling about town for exercise, or have you come for business?” he asked.
“A bit of both.”
He gazed around. His sight rested on the hotel. “It is interesting that your stroll brought you to this street. Were you intending, by chance, to inquire at that hotel for our friend?”
“Why would I do that?”
“It is frequented by foreign merchants. You told me of a plan to seek out such places in order to locate him. You are sure that you are not here for that reason?”
“Not at all.”
He swung off his horse. “Well, I am.”
“You stole my idea!”
“It is an
idea better executed by a man. I am pleased that you have learned your lesson and were not going to do something foolish. If you had come here today to pursue some investigation, I might have to punish you for disobeying me.” He made a little bow, and began leading his horse back toward the hotel.
Celia watched him walk away. “He addresses you most boldly. Does Daphne know—?”
Audrianna marched after Summerhays, ignoring Celia’s questions.
“What are you doing?” Celia demanded, catching up.
“I am going to learn whatever he does.”
Lord Sebastian noticed her while he tied his reins to a post. He smiled that damned smile of his. Audrianna pretended it had absolutely no effect on her. Celia’s expression melted in awe.
“If you are going to stand here and see who enters and leaves, I should be with you,” Audrianna said. “After all, I am the one who had a good look at him.”
“Only because I was distracted.” Warmth in his eyes demanded that she remember how and why he had been distracted. “I do not intend to stand here. That would be inefficient. I am going inside to speak with the owner and servants, to learn if anyone fitting your description is staying here.”
“I could have done that.”
“You would have never received a reply. I will.”
He walked to the hotel. Audrianna followed, pulling Celia along.
Lord Sebastian stopped at the door. “I will tell you what I learn.”
“I will hear it myself, thank you.”
“I give my word that I will keep nothing from you.”
“Your beliefs and mine are not the same. Our goals diverge in every way.”
“That is not true. I want the truth.”
“No, you want to be proven right. I think that you will hear what you want to hear, to that end, so I must trust only myself in learning the truth.”
Not pleased, he held the door so she and Celia could enter.
The mission might not be better executed by just any man, but it was clear that this particular man could get results. His card produced a flurry of fuss aimed at ingratiating the servants of the hotel with this member of society.
“Red hair, you say,” the proprietor mused upon hearing the vague description of their quarry. “Mr. van Aelst does not have red hair, although he wears a hat much as you describe. Unsightly thing, if you ask me. He just left the premises, or I would find an excuse to speak with him so you could have a good look.”
“He is not the man we seek, I am certain,” Audrianna said. “However, from what country does Mr. van Aelst hail?”
“The Netherlands. Amsterdam.”
“Do you have any other guests from Amsterdam?” Lord Sebastian asked.
“Not at the moment, no.”
“Have you had any recently? The last week or so?”
The manager shook his head.
There was nothing more to learn. Out in the street again, Audrianna prepared to take her leave. “It was a small bit of information, but something all the same. The Domino may be from the Netherlands.”
“Or not,” Lord Sebastian said. “Can I trust that you will not spend the afternoon quizzing every servant in every hotel and inn on the matter? You will not be well received, or successful, if you do.”
“You can trust nothing because I give no promises. I do not expect any acknowledgment from you that I, having seen Mr. van Aelst, was able to cross him off the list, while you would never be able to do so. Good day, Lord Sebastian.”
After parting from Lord Sebastian, Audrianna and Celia completed their business in town. They visited two flower shops in Mayfair to remind the proprietors that certain debts were in arrears to The Rarest Blooms. Normally Daphne did this duty herself, but she had remained in Cumberworth to keep a private appointment.
They then walked down Albemarle Street, toward Mr. Trotter’s shop. Audrianna had completed a new song. She hoped Mr. Trotter would agree to publish it
“Did he kiss you?” Celia asked. “Lord Sebastian. Did he?”
“What an extraordinary question, Celia.”
“Did he?”
“Remember Daphne’s Rule. We do not pry into—”
“He did. I knew it. I can always tell.”
“I doubt you can always tell.”
“If you were more worldly, perhaps I could not, but you are an innocent in these matters, so I can.”
“Oh, and you are so worldly yourself,” Audrianna teased.
“More than you.”
Something about Celia right then did look very worldly. A veil of maturity fell over her face, evoked by . . . what? A memory? A loss?
“He wants you,” Celia said. “It is in his eyes when he looks at you. Surely you can see it.”
“I am not sure what I see.” Nothing good, though. Enough to frighten her. And excite her. And considering who he was to her family, dismay her. “What he wants does not signify anyway.”
Mr. Trotter’s sign came into view. It dangled on high down the street, displaying two crossed flutes over a scroll inscribed with musical notes.
“Lord Sebastian was a rake not long ago,” Celia said. “Not the worst one. Not totally ruthless. But a rake. It is said he has reformed, but such men never really do, so you must be careful.”
Audrianna turned to Celia when they stopped in front of Mr. Trotter’s door. “It is very cynical to say a person cannot reform. Perhaps he has.” Evidence indicated he had not, but she wanted to make the larger moral point so she ignored that. “And how do you know so much about him, or his reputation? Have you been reading all those scandal sheets that Lizzie buys? I would think that you would have better—”
“Audrianna.” Celia’s attention diverted from their talk. She stared at the front of Mr. Trotter’s shop. “Audrianna, look.”
Audrianna turned around. Mr. Trotter displayed a variety of small musical instruments in his window, along with a large, velvet-covered board on which he pinned his newest sheet music. That board contained the usual assortment of hymns and old favorites, their notes neatly printed off engraved plates. Most had little vignettes at the top, displaying songbirds or flowers or religious symbols.
Those were not what had Celia gaping, however.
A copy of the music for Audrianna’s song, “My Inconstant Love,” held pride of place, right in the middle of the board. Instead of the border of roses that had once graced its top, there now showed a large engraving of two people.
A man looking much like Summerhays swooned while he clutched his bleeding upper arm. And the woman holding the pistol that had shot him bore a striking resemblance to Audrianna herself.
Sebastian shifted on a chair in the Duke of Castleford’s huge dressing room. In the bedchamber next door a woman giggled.
Just like Tristan to dally despite requesting this appointment. Sebastian tried to ignore the reasons for the delay. He distracted himself by looking out the window, from which he could see scaffolding going up to the rear of Apsley House at the far end of Piccadilly Street. Word was that Wellington intended to enlarge the place by half again.
The door finally opened and Castleford appeared in the threshold, half-dressed in shirt and trousers. His brown hair fell about his brow and face in disarray. The fun next door must have distracted him during his day’s preparations.
“Summerhays, good of you to come. I apologize for the delay but—”
“Castleford,” a woman’s voice cooed.
Castleford glanced back into the bedchamber. From his chair Sebastian could see in there too. A naked, dark-haired woman lounged on the bed, crooking her finger in a seductive beckon. Sprawled behind her was another naked woman, a blonde this time, small in stature.
“I said I have no more time for games now,” he chided his guests. “Dress and be off with you.”
The seductress pouted. A sly expression entered her eyes. With deliberate care she stretched so her glories were on total display. Then she rose on her arms and knees and turned. Her back dipped an
d her bottom rose, in a blatant erotic offer.
Castleford went totally still. The blonde noticed that someone else was in the dressing room. She scooted around until she repeated her friend’s position.
Castleford looked at Sebastian. “You won’t mind waiting awhile longer, will you?”
“Not at all.”
Castleford gestured to the bottoms. “Little Katy there thinks to make it a party. Join me. Side by side, like old times.”
Sebastian was not immune to feminine wiles and willing bottoms. At the moment his mouth was dry and his body hard. “I will decline. But go. I will wait.”
Castleford walked back into the bedchamber. He gave Katy’s little bottom a gentle slap. “He says no. What can I do? He has become a saint on us.”
Katy looked back with a pout. He bent and gave her a kiss. “Not fair, is it? I will tell you what. While I give Janie pleasure, I will watch her do the same for you.”
Sebastian got up to close the door. Before it swung, Katy had positioned herself near Janie’s head, legs spread wide and hips tilted to give her prime glory easy purchase by her friend’s mouth. Castleford positioned himself behind Janie’s ripe, round bottom and dropped his trousers.
“I do not think so.” Castleford’s response came after a long pause. The conversation had gone as Sebastian planned, but now it swung awry with that statement.
Perhaps his relaxed, sated state had caused Castleford not to understand. He appeared half-asleep and beatifically contented.
Sebastian’s own mood was not good right now. He had listened to more feminine moaning and squealing than any man should have to endure when he was not causing the cries himself.
“If you do not cooperate on this bill in the upper house, I will not be able to help you with your own interest when it comes up in the Commons,” Sebastian reminded him.
Castleford lounged lazily in his chair, still wearing only shirt and trousers. He gave a slow shrug. “I am not convinced that you will be able to help me in any case, so why should I spend political capital to acquire your aid?”
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