His cruel, blunt predictions came as slaps to her face. She had no trouble imagining the limited, bleak existence he described. A tide of fearful desolation submerged her self-righteous ire.
“You play to win, I see,” she said.
“When I must, yes.” He stepped closer so her nose pointed at his chest. “Come now. Marriage to me won’t be so bad,” he said more gently. “You will want for nothing and live as you choose.” His soft glove lifted her chin so she gazed on his face. “And we want each other, odd though you may find that. Pleasure goes a long way to making marriage tolerable for a woman.”
She hated that he knew that he affected her. She wished his face did not awe her and that her heart did not do that silly jig while she looked in his eyes.
His head dipped and his lips touched hers. He lingered long enough to ensure the arrows began scurrying. He deliberately reminded her of the overwhelming sensations in the garden.
She allowed it, half-hoping he would make her stupid again. Only this was not a surprise in a garden, and she could not forget who she was this time.
She saw lights of desire and victory in his eyes when he stopped the kiss and looked down at her. She stepped back, away from his body and hold, and faced him squarely. An unnatural calm swept her.
“Probably you are correct, Lord Sebastian, and I do not have the courage to leave all that I know behind to seek a new life in a distant land. I still have a choice, however.”
“Of course you do.” He did not believe that. She could see he assumed it could only go one way.
“Please do not patronize me, sir. I do have a choice. A more important one than you pose. I can live the sad existence that you describe, but in doing so, I can ensure that you lose your influence in government and society. Or I can live in luxury by marrying a man who used his position to do my father and my family great harm. I would say that the honorable decision is clear, wouldn’t you?”
He displayed no astonishment. No anger. He just looked at her.
She strode away. “Good day to you, Lord Sebastian.”
Chapter Nine
Audrianna decided to devote herself to finding the Domino. He still might hold the key to clearing her father’s name. There was also the smallest chance that he might confirm to the world that the assumptions behind the scandal were a lie.
She did not allow herself to count on that. In walking away from Lord Sebastian’s proposal, she had accepted that the worst would happen. She had no illusions that she was not doomed.
The evening after the meeting with Lord Sebastian, she sat in the library with the other women and tried to compose an advertisement for the Times. If the Domino was in London, he might see it. That was how he had looked for her father, after all.
She labored at it for a half hour and could not find the words to be both cryptic and plain. Discouraged, she folded the sheet of paper and set it aside. Now she had to write to Mama. That was going to be even more difficult.
It would be much easier to write a new song. She might title it “My Scandalous Innocence.” Or “A Vase Chipped but Unbroken.” Or “Pride Vanquished by Fate.” Or—
“So?” Celia asked. Her question broke the silence of the last hour. “Isn’t anyone going to explain what happened when Lord Sebastian came to visit today?”
“It was a private matter, Celia,” Daphne said without looking up from her book.
“Oh, tosh. We all know why he came. Did he offer a settlement? How big? Can you buy property with it or must you live off the income? Will there be a trustee, or is it yours to do with as you wish?”
“He offered no financial settlement,” Audrianna said. She made a display of dipping her pen and setting her attention to her letter.
“That is odd. He is not rumored to be without honor. I would have thought, considering some of the engravings that I have seen in town, that he would offer at least twenty thousand.”
That got Daphne’s attention. “There are other images?”
Celia nodded. “Rather explicit ones.”
“How do you see such things, Celia? When we go to town, you are not gone from my side more than ten minutes in all,” Daphne said.
Celia shrugged. “You just need to know where to look, that is all.”
Audrianna could feel Daphne’s curious attention on her now. She dipped her pen again.
“Actually,” Lizzie offered quietly, “for a man of his station, and a young woman of Audrianna’s birth, he really should have offered marriage in circumstances such as this. To offer a settlement would be insulting.”
Audrianna bent over the writing table. Dear Mama . . .
“You are such a child sometimes, Lizzie,” Celia said. “For all the shoulds that you were taught, the world has more than its share of exceptions.”
“You are correct, Celia. However, Lizzie is as well,” Daphne said. “I know that Aunt Meg was torn on the matter. She knew that she should demand he do the right thing, but after the scandal about her husband, she knew he never could.”
Audrianna put down her pen and turned to Daphne. The way Daphne phrased that, it sounded backward. Twisted. “Are you saying that Mama believed that the lies about Papa meant that Lord Sebastian should not be expected to do the right thing? That is a fine kettle of fish, since he helped spread those lies.”
“Calm yourself, dear cousin. In the least, it would be a recipe for unhappiness.”
“You would be much better off with money,” Celia agreed.
“If you hate him, that is probably true,” Lizzie said. “I only meant that money does not cleanse the terrible stain that you now bear the way marriage does.”
“Thank you, Lizzie,” Daphne said. “However, such pointed reminders are hardly helpful.”
Her gentle scold sent Lizzie back to her book. Daphne picked up hers as well. Celia, however, was not to be deterred. “So, how much?”
“Nothing,” Audrianna admitted.
Nothing? Celia mouthed with astonishment.
“I refused any such compensation, and he was not inclined to make any to begin with.”
Lizzie frowned. “How odd. He seduces you and the entire world finds out, and he is prepared to do nothing at all about it?”
“He did not seduce me.” Audrianna looked around the library at her friends, exasperated. “You do all believe that, don’t you?”
Celia nodded while she checked the tie on her shoe. Lizzie nodded while she got distracted by the painting on the wall.
Daphne turned a page in her book. “Of course we all believe that, dear.”
Sebastian’s indignation knew no bounds. It only grew on the ride back to London. Memories of the meeting with Miss Kelmsleigh distracted him for days.
Not normally a man given to confidences, he found himself a week later at Brook’s, spilling the story to the Earl of Hawkeswell, the one man who at least knew part of the truth since he was actually at the Two Swords. Hawkeswell was also one of the few men whose discretion he could trust.
“She turned me down. She did it to extract revenge.” Hawkeswell kept half his attention on the dice rolling on the hazard table. “You cannot be too surprised. She has good cause to hate you, and would not welcome such a solution to being compromised, no matter what the rules say. She is faring better than you in this scandal, and she has no reason to want to help you absolve yourself.”
Except he had been surprised. Not by her first rejection, but by the final one. He had assumed that kiss would seal his victory. Her response indicated it would.
To then see her standing there, separate and straight, calmly poised but still flushed from arousal, outlining her choices—he had not thought of her as especially strong until that moment. Nor had he fully comprehended her determination to avenge her father, for all her bravery at the Two Swords.
She had ended that meeting with aplomb. She had both impressed and infuriated the hell out of him.
“You should have brought some jewels with you,” Hawkeswell said.
/> “If she cannot be bought by marriage, she would not have been swayed by jewels.”
“Tangible things have a way of making theoretical ideas solid and real. She has refused a life of luxury and security, but she does not truly comprehend what she forgoes.”
“So that explains the ease with which you cut such a wide swath through women. You bribe the hesitant with rubies and pearls.”
They both laughed at that, since everyone knew that Hawkeswell needed little help from jewels in his conquests, and had little money to buy jewels in any case.
“Speaking of cutting wide swaths, have you seen Castleford recently?” Hawkeswell asked.
“A week ago.” Memories of two erotic bottoms invaded Sebastian’s head. That led to some vivid speculation about Miss Kelmsleigh’s bottom.
“It is as if I do not know him anymore. I applaud healthy hedonism, but his has taken a dark turn. He is becoming dissolute. It is as if he relishes being infamous.”
“A demon drives him, but I do not know its name.”
“Hell, what demon could claim him? He doesn’t have our problems. Let him walk in my boots a week or two and that would give him some reason for turning into an ass.”
It was the first allusion that Hawkeswell had made in over a year to his missing bride, and to the vague suspicions that hung over him about her disappearance. No one really believed he had sent her away, or worse, but a question mark still sat there, looming larger these last few days.
“Was it hers?” Sebastian asked, risking the temper that this friend could reveal unexpectedly. “That reticule found by the Thames.”
Hawkeswell inhaled deeply and gazed blankly across the chamber. He ran his hand through his hair and returned to his cards. “Her guardian says it was. It is not a good sign and I fear the worst. Poor girl.”
Poor Hawkeswell too. That girl had come with a lucrative settlement that he badly needed. Her disappearance on her wedding day had left him in limbo—unable to wed again, but unable to pry the settlement from her trustee, who insisted it would not be paid without a court’s judgment if she were dead.
Hawkeswell grinned sardonically. “Hell of a thing, isn’t it? I should be the one drinking myself to death, not Castleford.”
“Perhaps he has his reasons too, but I have accepted that he wants neither counsel nor sympathy from me. Not all friendships last forever.”
“True words, but sad ones.” Hawkeswell lifted his glass. “To Tristan St. Ives, Duke of Castleford, that he might slay that demon.”
Sebastian drank, then lifted his in turn. “To healthy hedonism, and your current lady fair whoever she may be.”
“To Miss Kelmsleigh, and the hope that she can be bought.”
“And if not, to all the ones who can be.”
As always happened when they played this ritual, Hawkeswell raised his glass one more time. Whoever or whatever he toasted remained a private thought before he threw back the rest of the spirits in his glass.
Lady Wittonbury rarely sought out her second son. Her sudden appearance in the library while Sebastian wrote some letters therefore surprised him.
She perched her imperious presence on a settee from which she could face him. She radiated her usual authority and confidence.
Sebastian greeted her, asked after her health, and returned to his letter with an emphasis of movement that he trusted would send her away. It was not to be.
“I want you to know that I am grateful for the attention that you give your brother,” she said.
“I am happy to do it.”
“Of course, it is only his due.”
“Certainly.”
“Everyone knows that he should never have bought that commission. As marquess, it was not his place to do so, but yours if anyone’s.”
Sebastian put down his pen. Outside a steady drizzle turned the garden into a palette of emerald greens and steely grays. “It has taken you a long time to put that accusation into words,” he said. “Perhaps now that you have, you will feel better.”
She was not a woman easily cowed, least of all by a son. “If a family were going to send a son to war at all, it should not be the firstborn and lord.”
“It is done sometimes. Dalhousie. Uxbridge. There are other examples we both know. He was not the only peer in uniform.”
“They come from families with excessive military traditions. Do you deny any guilt in the tragedy this caused?”
If she wanted to attribute his complicated feelings about Morgan to guilt, so be it. There was little point in arguing with her.
“But what is done is done,” she said.
He suspected she did not offer a mother’s absolution with that belated acceptance of fate. More likely she turned from one front in her private campaign, to another.
“I am told that you execute your duties well. That through you the Wittonbury power survives.”
“I do my best.”
“This business with that woman will interfere with your doing your best in the future. The on dit is quite damning. It gives lie to the impression that you had reformed.”
Sebastian did not defend himself. That also would make no difference.
“I have been thinking for some time that you should marry.”
“Your concern with my happiness is touching. I can’t decide whether I welcome this next change in our conversation’s topic, however. Let me see: guilt, scandal, or marriage? Guilt, scandal, or marriage. I confess that I find all the subjects unappealing. You have always had a talent for making our discussions disagreeable.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I have not changed the subject at all, as you well know. You will soon have your brother’s place. Considering his health, you should marry because you will be marquess soon. The scandal will only compromise your effectiveness now and then. Therefore, marriage will prepare you for your inevitable title, ensure the succession, and also distract the world from this latest seductive escapade of yours.”
She used to talk to his father like this. It had not been a joyous union.
“Actually, I have been thinking of marriage,” he said, after letting her glare at him for a solid minute.
Her face fell in astonishment. She frowned, suspicious at her easy victory. Then the thought of being able to meddle in his life won her over. “I am delighted to hear it. I will see that you are introduced to the best young ladies. We will settle on one this season.”
“I already have someone in mind.”
Suspicious again. “She is suitable, I pray.”
“Under the circumstances, she is very appropriate,” he said. “Now, you must excuse me. I will be late for my breakfast with Morgan.”
He walked out before she could pepper him with questions.
He entered the master’s apartment and joined Morgan by the window. He drank some coffee, and opened the Times.
As was his habit, he scanned the notices and advertisements on the first page. His gaze slid down the long column, then halted and moved back up to one of them.
“Is something amiss?” Morgan asked.
Sebastian checked his pocket watch. “Nothing is amiss. However, I will have to leave you early today. I have an appointment at quarter past eleven.”
Audrianna made a display of perusing the books in the shop. She kept her face to the spines, but shot furtive glances toward the central circular counter.
She might have misunderstood the notice, of course. It had been quite cryptic. Enough that she doubted anyone else would realize that it related to her fall from grace.
To the future partner interested in swords, black arts, and gossip, meet me below the dome in the muses’ abode, half past eleven on Thursday.
Black arts referred to the making of gunpowder. The dome referred to the one atop this large bookshop on Fins-bury Square commonly called The Temple of the Muses. She was almost positive that it had been another notice from the Domino.
She also believed that it had been written specifically for her attention. If the D
omino knew about the scandal, he would have learned by now that her father was dead and that she had been the woman waiting for him at the Two Swords. And the one now subject to gossip.
She barely contained her excitement. She wished a man with red hair would walk in the door. She judged how they would converse once they met. If they both admired books along the counter while standing near each other, and if they spoke lowly, they could do so without any patrons being aware.
She stole a glance at the case watch that she held in her gloved hand. He should be here by now. No one with red hair was under the central dome, however. Only two women stood there, and two gentlemen who looked nothing like the Domino.
Perhaps he watched just as she did, from a corner not in clear view. Maybe he thought his notice had not been seen.
She strolled over to the large counter. It included a glass case at one end. She peered through her wavy reflection at the fine bindings in the case. An old music book caught her eye.
“I should have guessed that it would be you.”
The low, displeased voice sounded right in her ear. She focused on her reflection again. Another face had joined hers. Lord Sebastian now stood right next to her.
“Go away,” she whispered furiously. “You are going to ruin everything again.”
“I am not going anywhere. I, too, want to meet our friend. Also, I cannot leave you unprotected.”
“This is a busy and safe establishment. Besides, I have the pistol.”
“Damnation, Miss Kelmsleigh. Your efforts to protect yourself will get someone killed eventually. I can only pray it will not be me.”
“If you would mind your own business, you can be sure it won’t be. Now, away with you. He will never show himself if he sees you here.”
“What makes you think he even saw your notice? He could be in Amsterdam, for all you know.”
“Very shrewd of you to think of that. Except I did not place this notice. He did.”
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