Sighing deeply, she turned, determined to give him a bit of his own unvarnished truth. But she couldn’t admit that the sight of him with his clothes pasted to his body set her own humming in the most irritating manner. Or that something else kindled below the surface.
However much she enjoyed her moments with him, they were all for show. They could be as entertaining as the best theatrical, but it would all be just as fictional.
But whatever she thought to say was drowned out by the sound of a throaty female voice calling his name.
“Sebastian!” Pippa rushed toward them, lifting her skirts high enough to indicate she wasn’t overly concerned about anyone seeing her practical black boots or the flash of white stocking above. “Did you fall in?” The last question bubbled out of her mouth, punctuated by bursts of laughter.
His sister reached out to touch his waistcoat. “This will be ruined. You really do enjoy making your valet miserable, don’t you?”
She smiled up at him and then finally seemed to notice Kitty at his side.
“Oh, hello, Lady Katherine. Did you fish him out of the Serpentine or were you the one who pushed him in? I wouldn’t blame you if you did. He can be a bit overbearing.”
Kitty considered conveying the embarrassing tale of her doomed hat, which would explain Sebastian’s sodden physique, but Pippa steamed ahead like a train.
“When you didn’t come back to the library for me, I decided to take a walk. What serendipity to find you.” She turned again to Kitty. “And you, Lady Katherine.”
Kitty grinned at the young woman. She was grateful for Pippa’s exuberance. Better to focus on his sister’s amusement at Sebastian’s wet disheveled clothing than for Kitty to let her gaze drift to all those places where the fabric still molded to his body.
But as soon as Kitty acknowledged Sebastian’s sister, Pippa fell silent and began examining both of them as if trying to solve a mystery. “So . . . what did happen?”
Pippa’s tone turned suspicious, and her gaze locked on Kitty, as if her presence was more of a conundrum than the question of why Sebastian stood dripping water onto the grass. She looked shocked to see them in each other’s company, and certainly seemed to have no notion that Kitty and Sebastian had entered into a scheme to tell everyone they intended to marry.
He’d insisted on telling Pippa the truth of their plan, yet it appeared that he hadn’t bothered telling his sister anything at all.
“You haven’t told her.”
He swallowed and jerkily shook his head.
His perceptive sister missed none of it. “Told me what?”
The duke looked as if he’d happily dive back in the Serpentine headfirst if it meant he could escape dual feminine interrogation.
“Sebastian, tell me what?”
He shifted his gaze from his sister’s face to Kat’s, then back again.
“Why don’t we discuss it over dinner? Lady Katherine, would you join us? And Lord and Lady Clayborne, if they’re free on such short notice.”
Kat wouldn’t ruin the moment for him. If he wished to tell his sister in private, she owed him that after his chivalrous attempts to save her hat. For a man who’d resisted her idea, he was committed now and it reassured her that they’d see Ollie and Hattie wed, hopefully by month’s end.
“I look forward to it, Your Grace.”
Chapter Thirteen
“DID YOU BUMP your head when you fell in the river?”
“No. And you’re being purposely inaccurate, Pippa. I didn’t fall in. I waded in.”
“To preserve her headwear?”
“She was fond of the thing.” Seb still wasn’t sure why.
Pippa held still after he said it. She’d been pacing as she railed at him but stopped, suspended midstride as if he’d given something away. Was it so difficult to believe he remembered how to be chivalrous? He’d had a long dry spell, admittedly. So long his romantic notions were buried under dust, but he hadn’t completely forgotten how to be a gentleman.
She glared at him long and hard and then resumed her march across the carpet, turning with all the stiff precision of a soldier and then treading past the spot where he leaned against the edge of his desk.
“You can’t do this. She’ll make a laughingstock of you when this is all said and done.”
“After today’s performance, I suspect I already am.”
“Nonsense. I’m sure you looked terribly heroic while saving a wealthy lady’s overpriced hat.”
Seb didn’t bother to remind his sister that they were wealthy now too, and she could afford to buy as many ridiculous hats as she liked. It would be a futile argument. Give Pippa a hundred pounds and she’d probably spend it trying to assist those in need, only leaving a bit aside for a new tennis racket or fencing épée. She’d never given two minutes consideration to fashion, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her wear anything beyond a practical straw hat to fend off the sun.
“I could care less about being a hero. We’re doing this for Ollie and Harriet.”
On this journey across the carpet she stopped near the window and crossed her arms, staring out through the fine gauze drapes at their quiet corner of Mayfair.
“Why does he insist on marrying her?”
Now it was his turn to keep still, to fight the urge to respond to the pained break in her voice and go to her. But even as a child Pippa refused coddling and comfort. She might shed a tear or two over a skinned knee or sulk about the loss of a game, but she’d push their mother away when she attempted a reassuring embrace, or turn from Father when he’d offer one of his truisms about loss and perseverance.
“He says he loves her.” Seb uttered the words quickly, wishing for any way to mitigate his sister’s pain.
“Ah, love.” Pippa’s shoulders lifted as she uttered an awful choked sound, a bitter semblance of laughter. “We should all believe in love, shouldn’t we? Because that impulse covers all sins. Love is always true.”
Beyond her infatuation with Ollie, as far as Seb knew, Pippa had never been in love. There’d been plenty of young men who indicated interest in her, but she’d either ignored their overtures or missed them entirely. Her interest in Ollie had become clear the previous year, if overlong gazes and sensitivity to their usual sibling-like banter was any indication. But she ignored Ollie as often as she spoke to him, and he seemed as oblivious to her feelings as she was to those of her besotted classmates at Cambridge.
Seb couldn’t imagine where she’d developed such bitterness toward love and romance. A thought chilled him. He only knew one person more jaded about love, and he glimpsed a bit of the pathetic man’s face in the mirror over the mantel. Had his own bitterness somehow infected Pippa? He thought he’d hid it well, buried his pain and carried on so that none of them truly imagined what had transpired between him and Alecia.
He didn’t want bitterness and a lonely life for Pippa. Such a clever, accomplished young woman deserved to find happiness and never know the pain of betrayal and lost love.
“Pippa—”
“Do you intend to tell everyone you love Kitty Adderly?”
Horrible? Kat was a challenge, as her father had been quick to remind him, and her behavior at that first ball had been appalling, but there was a good deal more. Intelligence, determination, and a loyalty to her sister he couldn’t help but admire.
“Until Oliver is married, yes.”
“So you’ll lie about love, and yet you think Oliver, who possesses as much constancy as feral cat, means it when he says he loves this marquess’s daughter?”
She turned just as he began to approach her and held up her hands. “Can we stop for now, Seb?”
He hated the pain in her eyes, the white pallor of her skin. She looked like a haunted version of his lively sister, and he couldn’t comfort her. Even if she allowed such emotional displays, he
had no idea what he’d say. He believed in the power of love as little as she did, at least for himself. If Ollie thought he’d found his portion of happiness, it wasn’t his place to question the young man’s devotion to Kat’s sister. But for himself, the prospect of giving his heart seemed laughable.
Seb wasn’t certain there was anything left in him worth giving.
“They will be here in an hour, Pippa.”
“Is Kitty coming? And Lady Harriet?”
“Ollie invited her.”
“Very well.” She wore the same expression he’d seen as a child when he’d bested her at a game of chess. Reticent concession, but something less than full-on defeat. If she loved Ollie and his determination to marry another woman broke her heart, she’d never let him, or anyone, see that agony. Seb thought back to the years after Alecia’s betrayal and wondered if he’d managed to wear a poker face as well as Pippa.
“What if he changes his mind about her? If you tell these lies and woo a woman you don’t even like, and Ollie fixes his admiration on another young lady, as he is wont to do? What then?”
Seb had no ready answer. But his lack of a response didn’t bother him nearly as much as the presumption that he did not like Kat. Dislike wasn’t there when he thought of her. In fact, the emotions she sparked in him were deeper, thornier, far beyond anything as simple as like or dislike. And that disturbed him most of all.
“YOU’RE CERTAIN SHE’LL keep the secret until all is said and done?”
Kat whispered as Sebastian stood near her at the edge of his drawing room. Lord and Lady Clayborne engaged in conversation with Ollie while Harriet beamed at his side. Clayborne finally agreed to meet with Ollie in the afternoon, and no one could see the glowing smiles the young couple had been wearing since their arrival at Wrexford House and doubt the result of that meeting.
“Pippa can be trusted.”
“How did she take the news?”
Seb tried not to watch the drawing room door for his sister’s entrance. She’d left him standing in the middle of his study, midsentence, as he fumbled over explaining his complicated feelings for Kat. He wasn’t certain Pippa would join them for dinner at all.
“She’s unwell this evening.”
Kat turned to face him. “You asked me to trust you once. Why not tell me the truth?”
He took a deep breath to explain, though revealing Pippa’s affection for Ollie wasn’t an option. Not only would it complicate everyone’s plans, but his sister’s feelings were her own.
“We didn’t start well, your sister and I. Perhaps I frightened her.”
Frightened? Pippa? As a child she’d only begged for a retelling of the most gruesome of fairy tales and now collected volumes of Sheridan Le Fanu and Wilkie Collins’s ghost stories for her nighttime reading.
“Don’t look at me like that, Sebastian. I meant no harm. I merely—”
The drawing room door swung open and Lady Harriet and her mother stood, perhaps thinking it was the butler calling them into the dining room. But it was Pippa. She wore a pasted-on smile, and Seb’s neck itched at the thought of what she might be feeling, the dilemma he could not fix for her.
Before he could lead her over, Kat approached his sister and whispered some sentiment amusing enough to make her smile, or at least feign it convincingly. Kat took Pippa’s arm and drew her to a corner of the room. Seeing the two clever women together with heads bent did nothing to settle his nerves.
A few minutes later, Pippa approached. “She’s good at this.” Though Lady Harriet had smiled at Pippa as she crossed the room and indicated a seat next to her, his sister offered Kat’s sister a pleasant smile and planted herself at his side instead.
“Who’s good at what?” Seb was busy watching Ollie’s interaction with Lord Clayborne. The older man gave little away, and he hoped Ollie didn’t overwhelm the girl’s parents with his exuberance.
“Lady Katherine is good at convincing people to like her. What if Lady Harriet is as false as her sister?”
“As you pointed out in my study, I am lying as well. We’re not enjoying this.” For the most part, it had been miserable. He hated lying, and the interrogation with Clayborne had been brutal. But he glanced up at Kat as he spoke, and he admitted, at least to himself, that it hadn’t all been misery. “And as for Harriet, I know her as little as you do. But I do know Oliver. He’s never shown this sort of devotion to any woman.”
“Then I shall be happy for him.” Seb suspected Pippa had no idea the words came out through clenched teeth. He leaned an inch closer but didn’t reach for her. She blew out a breath, and then inhaled deeply. Peeking at her out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tear glistening on her cheek.
He considered offering his handkerchief, but the danger of drawing attention to her distress wasn’t worth the gesture. She’d swiped away the evidence of her heartache before he’d finished the thought.
When the butler called them into the dining room a few moments later, she bolted from his side. Kat maneuvered across the room and reached for his arm.
“Thank you for coming this evening.” Trite words, though he meant them sincerely. Wrexford House took a bit less getting used to than Roxbury, but they’d yet to entertain any guests, and his parents had taught them that guests enliven any home.
“Of course.” She lifted her shoulders and her turquoise dress rustled. “We’ll be family when all is said and done. Might as well know what we’re up against now.”
He and Pippa and Kat made quite a trio. Each as cynical about love and happy futures as the other in their own way.
“I think I’m on the road toward making amends with your sister. I’ve invited her to go hat shopping with me, if that suits you.”
“The feathered one couldn’t be salvaged?” He wasn’t sad to hear the news.
“Yours was a valiant effort. But no.”
Dipping his shoulders, he tried for a slightly mournful expression. Whatever he thought of the monstrosity, Kat had adored the thing.
“Stop it,” she whispered as she tightened her grip on his arm.
“What?”
“You really are a terrible liar. Are you trying for sorrow over my hat’s demise?”
“I’m trying for polite.” He really had done his best to save the bit of feathered velvet.
“Well, stop it. I assure you the next one will have feathers too.”
“I have no doubt.” He imagined she’d go for something grander and with bigger feathers just to see his reaction.
The Wrexford House staff knew how to impress dinner guests. The table glowed with spring flower arrangements positioned amid sparkling crystal stemware, a glinting silver service, and gilt-edged porcelain plates bearing an extraordinary Moorish pattern of crimson, gold, and cerulean blue. The butler informed Seb they’d been specially commissioned by the late duke after a visit to Spain.
Beyond the table itself, however, the seating arrangement posed the potential for disaster. For some reason, Ollie’s card placed him with Harriet by his side and directly across from Pippa. She wouldn’t meet his gaze but held her head up high as if she meant to endure the evening, no matter what transpired.
Seb took his place at the head of the table, with Kat to his right. Her father had been placed at the other end of the table. Seb hadn’t requested that the man be seated farther away from him than any other guest, but he wasn’t displeased with the turn of events.
They’d barely begun sipping their soup when Ollie sprang up from his chair, wineglass held high.
“I must say thank you, Lord Clayborne, for considering my request to marry your daughter. I know the value of family, having lost my own. I will be forever grateful to the Fennicks for taking me in, but I am so looking forward to gaining a new family, and a beautiful bride. Let us all raise a toast to Harriet.”
Perhaps the boy would be a
fine barrister after all. Seb couldn’t deny he had a way with words. And judging by the ladies around the table dabbing kerchiefs to their eyes, a way of provoking emotions too.
After they’d all lifted their glasses and swallowed a drink for Harriet, Kat whispered between spoonfuls of bouillabaisse.
“How are you going to top that?”
“Must I?”
His answer came in the form a dull pain pulsing up his shin where she tapped him with her pointy-toed shoe.
Seb stood, dropped his napkin on the edge of his soup bowl, and nearly knocked over his water glass. It got him everyone’s attention and he lifted his wineglass in the air at the precise moment his mouth went dry. He took a sip of wine and raised his glass again.
“I echo Oliver’s sentiments, and I . . .” Am a complete and utter fraud.
Kat cleared her throat, a surprisingly dainty sound that drew his gaze. She managed to convey camaraderie and sympathy in a single look, and it suddenly mattered much less whether he was making a fool of himself or not. He didn’t have to tell a lie to raise a glass to her. Their connection had begun on an odd premise, but he couldn’t deny that she was the most appealing woman he’d met in years. If they’d become acquainted on some other footing, in different circumstances, when he still believed in love and possibilities, perhaps . . .
Clayborne cleared his throat, a drawn-out awkward sound, with none of the grace his daughter had managed.
“Yes, yes, a toast to Katherine. Finally a bride-to-be. We doubted the day would ever come. Many thanks for taking her off my hands, Wrexford. My suffering shall now be yours.” He raised his wineglass halfheartedly and then gulped the contents in one swallow.
He was the only one who drank. The rest around the table still held their glasses aloft or had set them down again. None could miss his snide tone or the insult to his daughter.
Seb glanced at Kat again, but she’d turned her attention to studying the pattern on her dinner plate. She deserved more than her father’s dismissal. Seb feared she’d experienced it far too often. Any man who’d truly won her hand in marriage wouldn’t stand for it.
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