‘I was happy in Little Benning too,’ Isabel agreed.
He stroked her cheek. ‘Unfortunately for us, my darling girl, that is fantasy. The reality is that I have responsibilities now that extend beyond just keeping my brother and sister clothed and fed. I now have tenants and servants who rely on me.’
She rolled over, her face so close to his that their foreheads touched. ‘You are a fine Lord Somerton, Sebastian.’
‘And you are already a fine Lady Somerton.’
She smiled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I am asking you again to marry me, Isabel. You didn’t give me an answer last night.’
She touched his face and smiled. ‘Yes.’
His heart swelled and he buried his face in her hair, overcome with the emotion that flooded him. She twisted beneath him, finding his face, and he kissed her with such passion that he thought he would lose himself in her, but any thought of making love again was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.
‘Hope I haven’t woken you,’ Mother Shipton’s voice called from the far side, ‘but I’ve got some breakfast set for ye and your clothes are dry. I’ll just leave ‘em outside the door here. Come down when you’re ready.’
Sebastian rolled on to his back and groaned. ‘I suppose the day must be faced.’
Beside him, Isabel mirrored his position, turning her head to look up at the beams of the ceiling. ‘This has been our own little world, Sebastian. Will our normal world be the same?’
He swung his legs out of the bed and sat up, looking down at her slender body, half concealed by the bedclothes. The nasty bruises on the delicate flesh looked so much worse in the daylight and his anger rose at the thought of Freddy and the damage he could have wrought — had already wrought.
‘Nothing will ever be the same again, my dearest, and that is a good thing,’ he whispered, stooping to kiss her.
Dressed and tidied as best they could manage in their salt encrusted clothes, Sebastian and Isabel ate a simple breakfast of bread, cheese and small beer. Sebastian hadn’t shaved in two days and, although Isabel had tied her hair back, long salt-stiffened wisps escaped around her face.
She pulled a face, trying to tidy the curls away. ‘It needs to be washed in fresh water,’ she said.
Sebastian thought she had never looked so beautiful.
He glanced out of the window. ‘It will be some hours before the coach reaches us, Lady Somerton. Would you care for a walk along the beach?’
Isabel agreed and they stepped out into the cool day. He wrapped his arm around her and together they walked down through the dunes to the scene of the drama of the previous day.
The rain had cleared and the sea had withdrawn far into the Wash, leaving a broad expanse of sand. The little fisher boats were back, listing on the sand and waiting for the next high tide. Sebastian stopped on the side of the creek to ask about the boat that Freddy had commissioned to take him to France.
The man he enquired of scratched his beard and looked out at the boats on the creek bed.
‘Not back yet,’ he said.
Sebastian turned back to look at Isabel. There was no need for words. The grim look on Isabel’s face was reflected in his own. Freddy had escaped.
‘There’s no justice,’ Isabel whispered, slipping her hand into his, ‘but he’s gone. Nothing more we can do.’
Sebastian squeezed her hand, his heart overflowing with love for her…her courage and her stoicism.
Hand in hand, they walked along the shore. Out of sight of the village, Sebastian pulled Isabel down beside him on the sand. They sat side-by-side, looking out to sea.
‘Did you find Fanny?’ Isabel asked.
Sebastian nodded. ‘She was feeling a little sorry for herself but she should live.’
‘I wish I could feel some pity for Fanny, but I don’t,’ Isabel said.
Sebastian gathered her hand in his and kissed her fingers.
‘You can’t force yourself to feel an emotion, Isabel, but if you can’t feel pity, at least forgive her.’
‘I hear your stepfather in those words, Sebastian,’ she said.
‘Possibly.’
‘Did you forgive the murderers of Inez?’
Sebastian picked up a piece of driftwood and began drawing patterns in the damp sand while he considered the answer.
‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘If I hadn’t forgiven them, the hatred would have consumed me.’ He looked up at the sky and added, ‘Mind you, I killed them first.’
‘Sebastian!’ Isabel pushed him and he fell back on the sand, pulling her with him.
He rolled over until he was on top of her and kissed her. She put her hands around his head, pulling his face down towards her, and they kissed long and hard, exploring each other in a different way to their passionate lovemaking.
When they were spent, they lay side by side on the sand, looking up at the clouds scudding across the sky.
‘Freddy told me that he used to work in…in…a place that serviced the needs of gentlemen. He had been procured at the age of sixteen,’ Isabel said.
‘A molly house?’ Sebastian said, as the snippets of Freddy’s life fell into place.
Isabel nodded and related what Freddy had told her of his early life and the reason for the blackmail. When she had done so, she shuddered. ‘I almost felt sorry for him. A young man with the responsibility for a much younger sister has few options.’
‘There were other ways he could have made a living,’ Sebastian pointed out. ‘He chose his path because it was an easy assurance of quick money and provided ample opportunity for adding to the purse through other means, like blackmail.’
‘I was so naive. It never occurred to me that Anthony might have been inclined to men. I just thought he didn’t know what to do with me.’
‘Did he tell you why he killed Anthony?’ Sebastian asked.
‘He told me it was money. Anthony found the letters he had been using for the blackmail and refused to pay him.’
Sebastian put his hands behind his head. ‘My stepfather once told me that there are four reasons men kill: love, hate, self-defence and money. It may be true Freddy had been blackmailing Anthony and that the money had dried up, but there was more to it than that. Anthony loved you and Freddy wanted what he couldn’t have.’
‘Anthony was in love with me?’ Isabel gave an unladylike snort of derision.
Sebastian nodded. ‘I’ve been told that by Freddy and Georgiana Kendall.’
Isabel looked away and her shoulders tensed as if she was trying to control her emotions. ‘It seems I was wrong about Anthony. He gave every impression that he despised me!’
Sebastian laid a hand on her shoulder, turning her to look at him. He brushed the tears from her eyes.
‘Don’t blame yourself, Isabel. I don’t think Anthony knew how to show love.’
‘He was so different when William was born. For a little while I thought that we had reached an amicable relationship. That’s when I gave him the saddle. But after William died, he just turned on me. How is that love?’
‘I am guessing, but I think William’s death made Anthony realize how important you were in his life. Not just as the begetter of his heirs, but as a partner. He just didn’t know how to show it.’
Isabel sighed. ‘I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with Freddy.’
Sebastian thought of the innocent child and Freddy’s confession of the heinous crime he had committed. That was something Isabel need never know but, even as the thought crossed his mind, she propped herself up on one elbow and leaned over. As she stroked his face, she looked into his eyes. He had accused her of having a face like a book, but he could see in the concern on his face that his own visage reflected that grim knowledge.
‘Is there something you want to tell me about Freddy?’ She asked.
He shook his head. ‘No.’ But even to his own ear his tone was too clipped.
To prevent her from interrogating him further, he sil
enced her questions with his lips.
‘Poor Anthony.’ Isabel settled herself into the curve of his arm, her head resting against his shoulder. ‘I wish I could tell him how sorry I am to have been so wrong about him.’
Sebastian kissed the mahogany-coloured hair, tasting the salt on his lips.
He thought about Anthony. He didn’t understand what it was to desire another man, but he knew what it was to love and to lose the person you loved. Was that what drove Freddy? Had he loved Anthony?
Sebastian pushed his thoughts of Freddy and Anthony away and drew Isabel even closer. He had been given another chance at love and he was determined he would not lose this person or let the dark past shadow their future happiness.
‘Alder! Put that woman down!’
He heard his name on the wind and sat up to see two figures coming up the beach toward them. Isabel also sat up, her face pink with embarrassment. She tried to secure her wayward hair but even Sebastian could see it needed a good wash and a comb. Nothing she could do would make her look anything less than a bedraggled sea nymph, and he loved her more for it.
They struggled to their feet as Harry and Matt reached them. The younger man looked deathly pale and his arm was in a sling. Another figure, her blue dress flapping in the wind as she struggled to hold her bonnet, came running up the beach behind the men.
Connie threw herself not at Sebastian, but Isabel.
‘I am so glad you are all right. I feared the worst when I heard that monster had taken you! Did he hurt you?’
Isabel returned the girl’s warm embrace. ‘No, he didn’t hurt me. Just a few bruises.’
Connie turned to Sebastian, standing on tiptoes to give him a warm, sisterly kiss.
‘I thought I told you to wait in the coach,’ Matt chided.
Connie turned and gave her brother a hard stare.
Sebastian laughed. ‘Surely you didn’t entertain the notion your sister would listen to a word you say, Matt.’ He drew them both towards him, folding them in his arms. ‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you both, and you, Harry. What news?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Bennet has seen Miss Lynch lodged with a widow in Hazlemere and her leg has been set.’ He glanced at Matt. ‘We did stop on the way and found Miss Lynch in a distressed state, as you can imagine. Is there any news of her brother?’
Sebastian shook his head. ‘In the absence of a body, we can only assume he made good his escape.’
‘With all my jewellery. Enough to set himself up in some style,’ Isabel observed. ‘I think Fanny may well have seen the last of her brother.’
Harry patted his coat. ‘We found a box full of Somerton silver and expensive trinkets in the ruined coach. I have a signed statement from Miss Lynch giving her account of matters as she knows them and exonerating you, Alder, of any responsibility towards her.’
‘It’s always nice to know I am not a rapist,’ Sebastian observed drily. He glanced out to sea. ‘I’m anxious to get back to Brantstone. Both Lady Somerton and I could do with a hot bath and some clean clothes.’
‘You do look rather disreputable,’ Matt said with a cheeky grin. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Very,’ Sebastian replied with a smile. ‘Now, has anyone got any money I can leave with old Mother Shipton for our board?’
***
Sebastian stood at the end of the bed and looked down at the miserable young woman, who sniffled into her handkerchief. He tried to dredge up some shred of pity for Fanny Lynch but the memory of how close he had come to being forced to marry the wretch made him push his stepfather’s spirit behind him. He may be able to find it in his heart to forgive her, but he would never forget.
Fanny looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. ‘Have you,’ she began in a tremulous voice, ‘come to take me home?’
Sebastian stared at her. ‘Home?’
‘To Brantstone?’
‘I don’t know where your home is, Fanny, but it’s not and never has been Brantstone. Your presence there was based entirely on lies and deception.’
Her lip wobbled. ‘I didn’t know!’ she wailed. ‘Freddy only told me that Lord Somerton had offered us his home and would look after us.’
Sebastian may have felt inclined to believe the woman’s credulity, had he not remembered the very active part Fanny had played in Freddy’s deceptions, from the cheating at cards through to that ghastly night in the library.
‘As it is, I am considering turning you over to the constable. You will be lucky not to hang for the amount of silver you have stolen from me.’
‘You wouldn’t do that.’ Fanny stared at him with large, water filled eyes. ‘I will be transported to New South Wales and never see Freddy again.’
Sebastian hesitated. Much as he disliked Fanny, he hated to be the bearer of bad news.
‘Freddy is dead. His body was washed up on a beach two days ago.’
Genuine tears welled anew in the large blue eyes and spilled down her pale cheek. ‘Dead? Not Freddy, not my brother… You have to help me.’ She clutched at his sleeve but he stepped back out of her reach. ‘Don’t turn me over to the constable. Please, Lord Somerton. I’ve said I’m sorry for what we did. Freddy’s always looked after me. I don’t know what to do.’
Sebastian refrained from the angry words that sprang to mind. Fanny did not need to be reminded that her brother was a murderer who would have — should have — died at the end of a hangman’s noose.
‘I won’t hand you over to the constable. You will be looked after here and, when you are well enough to travel, you will be given the sum of fifty pounds and an introduction to a respectable lady in London who can find a position for you as a lady’s companion, but it is entirely up to you what path you choose to take.’
‘But, Sebastian —’
He hardened his heart. ‘I’m sorry. I will do no more for you.’
‘And very generous, his lordship is. You should thank the lord for your good fortune.’ The woman who was caring for Fanny, and evidently knew the better part of the story, interceded.
Fanny cast her an uncertain glance. She looked down at the sodden piece of cloth in her hand. ‘Yes. It is more than I deserve. Thank you, Lord Somerton.’
For the first time, Sebastian caught a glance of the potential the young woman could have in the right circumstances but he could not, and would not, dictate her future. That was entirely up to Fanny.
She looked up at him and, for the first time, a smile caught at the corners of her mouth. ‘When is the wedding?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘In the new year. How did you…?’
‘I guessed. I always thought you and Lady Somerton were meant for each other. I really rather liked Colonel Dempster,’ the corners of her mouth drooped. ‘Do you suppose…?’
Sebastian glared at her.
He put on his hat and, inclining his head to acknowledge Fanny’s nurse, left the room and the last of his responsibility to Fanny Lynch behind him.
Chapter 30
Bennet took a long draught of his pipe and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the late autumn sun on his face. He had found a sunny corner of the kitchen garden to take his ease and he considered that life had definitely taken a turn for the better.
‘Mr Bennet.’
He opened his eyes. Peter Thompson stood in front him, holding a battered tin box out before him.
‘What’cha got there boy?’
Peter swallowed. ‘The men who was tearing down the stables found it hidden behind a loose brick in a wall,’ he said. ‘I think it was Amy’s. I used to see her with it when she thought no one was looking.’
Bennet considered the object, a sad remnant of the girl’s life.
‘Nice it was found,’ he said.
Peter held it out. ‘I want you to take it to his lordship,’ he said. ‘There’s things in there. I don’t know what they are, but he will.’
‘What sort of things?’
Peter just shook his head and shoved it at Benn
et before turning on his heels and running away.
Bennet looked at the object on his lap and opened the lid. It wasn’t locked. The contents looked like the sort of detritus he would expect of a young girl’s life: ribbons, dried flowers, the sort of cheap trinkets pedlars at a fair would sell and, hidden in a corner, a small, apparently insignificant object. Bennet fished it out and held it up.
He let out a low whistle.
***
Sebastian poured two glasses of French brandy and handed one to Harry. Harry swirled the liquid and took an appreciative sniff of the fumes that rose from the glass.
‘When’s the wedding?’ he enquired.
‘March,’ Sebastian said.
Harry cocked an eyebrow. ‘Have to say, old chap, I’m a bit hurt you haven’t asked me to stand by you.’
Sebastian set his glass down. ‘I have something to show you,’ he said.
He opened the cigar box that stood on the table and produced a small, silver object: a button.
‘What’s that?’ Harry picked it up and squinted at it. ‘Collecting buttons from the old regiment, Alder?’
‘So you recognise it, Harry?’
‘Of course I do. It’s an officer’s button from the Twenty-Second. Careless of you, Alder.’
‘It’s not mine. It was found in a box, hidden behind a brick in the old stables.’
Harry stiffened and set the button back on the table, recoiling from it.
He forced a smile. ‘How extraordinary. Could have been there for years.’
‘No. The box belonged a housemaid here at Brantstone, Amy Thompson. Did you know her, Dempster?’
The faintest hesitation gave lie to the words that followed. ‘How the hell would I know a housemaid from Brantstone?’
‘Perhaps you can tell me? Did she accompany her father over to Fairchild Hall? Did you see her in the village? Did you meet her at Brantstone?’
Harry picked up the button, turning it by its shank. ‘I saw her at the church one Sunday when I was staying with Georgie. She was lovely, Alder. Really lovely.’ He let the button, with its betraying insignia of an acorn, drop back on to the table.
Lord Somerton’s Heir Page 29