“Ah, your grace.” Rawlings’ cocky grin leered over his cup of ale.
“Rawlings,” he ground out.
Nicholas rolled his eyes, which was rather hypocritical considering Nicholas had nearly killed Rawlings a few years ago after he had kissed Sara’s hand. Sebastian sorely needed Nicholas on his side.
“The house party,” Sebastian stated, getting straight to business. “My fiancée and I will be attending.”
Rawlings lifted a brow. “Didn’t know you had it in you, old man.”
Sebastian’s fist tightened.
Nicholas gave him a warning look.
“Who’s to be the lucky lady?” Rawlings took another long sip and waited, glancing between the two men.
Nicholas answered. “Miss Emma Gates.”
Rawlings choked on his ale. “Miss Gates?” The color in his face seemed to diminish. He didn’t say anything for a great while, then, adjusting his cravat, he managed a tight smile. “Well then, congratulations are in order.”
“Yes,” Sebastian said slowly as he motioned for more ale. Carefully, he watched as Rawlings' face seemed to grow grimmer.
“I say, are you feeling well?” Nicholas directed toward Rawlings.
“Fine.” He shrugged and guzzled the entire contents of his cup. “Do you need any special arrangements for your quarters when you arrive?”
“Separate rooms, if you please.”
Rawlings smirked. “Of course.”
Sebastian fought the urge to hit him. Nicholas looked at Sebastian’s clenched fist and shook his head slowly, almost as if he knew what getting into a fight would do to Sebastian. What he didn’t know was why he hated Rawlings so much. Naturally Rawlings’ rakish attitude rubbed a majority of the ton the wrong way. But a rake Sebastian could handle. Hadn’t he been accused of the same thing several times past? No, it wasn’t that. It was the simple fact Rawlings didn’t care whom he hurt when he made bad choices. He laughed and walked on as if the consequences were no matter to him. Word had it Rawlings was heavily in debt, which explained his already foxed state when they arrived. Overindulging was always the first sign of debt, at least in Sebastian’s eyes.
“So you wish to be in separate rooms like a good little duke,” Rawlings mocked.
Nicholas grabbed Sebastian just in time, though Sebastian noted the fire in Nicholas’s eyes as well.
“You two need to drink more. I was merely taunting you. You’ve always been too easy, Tempest. Don’t you remember the time at Eton when you got that blasted nickname? ‘The Angel Duke.’ I never thought you’d actually live up to all the hype.”
Sebastian swallowed, trying to forget that day, trying to stamp it out of his memory. The only three men who knew the truth of the incident were Rawlings, Nicholas, and himself. Sworn to secrecy. The nickname was just a ruse for what had actually happened.
“Don’t…” Sebastian said.
“What do you think people would say if they knew the reason you ended up saving that little girl was because you were out after hours? Drinking and gambling with yours truly?”
Nicholas cleared his throat. “They would most likely laugh it off as some sort of adolescent behavior and tell the story of how Sebastian saved the girl from drowning all over again; this time with much more enthusiasm, considering Sebastian’s spotless reputation.”
Rawlings looked away. “Spotless…that’s an interesting word to use.”
“His reputation is spotless; it always has been. Seb could get away with murder.” Nicholas laughed.
Sebastian appreciated his effort to bring merriment to the far too tense room. But even he knew it wouldn’t work, not when Rawlings was so deep in his cups.
“I wonder how important your reputation is to you, Tempest.”
“It’s everything,” Sebastian snapped. And it truly was. It was his duty to have a spotless reputation. To make his deceased parents proud through his ability to lead his family and marry well. “I think we’re done here.” He launched out his chair and leaned over the table, savoring the moment Rawlings realized he had pushed him too far. “Stay away from me and stay away from Miss Gates.”
Rawlings lifted his empty glass in the air and nodded. “She isn’t yours.”
“Nor yours,” he barked back.
Rawlings eyes turned black. “We shall see, won’t we? I don’t believe you are married yet.”
Sebastian made a lunge at Rawlings’ throat, but Nicholas’s hands were already in place, pulling him toward the door. “Let it go,” he urged.
****
Rawlings stumbled into the poorly lit establishment, desperate to find the one man who could help him out of this predicament. Table after table was filled with loud obnoxious drunks. Knowing he shouldn’t be quick to judge, he tried to push past them and nearly fell over a chair.
“So you’ve decided to help me after all?”
The truth. Rawlings wanted to help him. He was family, but at what cost to him? Before he hadn’t wanted anything to do with this man’s desperate plans, but now he also had a favor. The debt collectors wouldn’t stop calling. He had unsuccessfully tried to ask for a loan from his mother the day before. The door had been slammed in his face. It didn’t help matters that he had refused to own up to his end of the bargain given to him by his deceased father.
It was up to him. And he was at loss for what to do. He would lose everything if he didn’t marry soon. The country estate, the townhome in London—everything. And all because the angel duke had to ruin his plans for redemption. Tempest had always been too pure for his own good. Why was it he was constantly surrounded by angels singing when Rawlings had to suffer? Sure, it was unfortunate Tempest had lost his parents. But Rawlings couldn’t figure out how it was his fault, nor why Tempest was more deserving than he.
One more plan. He had one more idea. And he was nearly out of time to follow through with it. Luckily he had an ally—someone who would do the dirty work for him in return for one tiny favor.
All he needed was information on the sudden announcement between Tempest and Lady Gates. Something didn’t feel right about their betrothal, and he needed help to find out, though the last of his money had been spent on his extravagant house party in hopes to lure the wealthier of the ladies to his estate.
Plans had changed when he discovered Emma was seeking a husband.
The look on her face when she had seen him nearly broke his heart. Yes, he was after her money. What desperate man wouldn’t be? But what if, by some miracle, he could rekindle what they’d had? What if he could pull her away from Tempest, the arrogant cad, and finally prove his loyalty?
It was decided. She would be his. It was the perfect and only solution to the massive mountain that was Lord Rawlings’ debt. Now all he needed was this one favor from his half brother. Besides, John was the type who knew how to convince people to talk. If anyone could find out the secret to the duke’s sudden interest, it would be John, and his brother owed him this. After all those years of silence, his brother could give him this one boon. Their secret had nearly destroyed the family and done unmistakable damage to his father.
The more Rawlings thought about it the more secure he felt about being able to gain his brothers favor. And what did John have to live for? Not only would John be able to find out why Tempest was interested but surely he could satisfy his own twisted need to see Emma within the Rawlings family rather than another peer.
****
“Why does he have to bring it up every blasted time?” Sebastian said. He was still fuming over the meeting with Rawlings the previous day. He and Nicholas were patiently waiting for the women to descend the stairs in their pretty dresses. Everything had been taken care of. They would make the announcement tonight and later on in the week travel to Rawlings’ country estate for a house party.
Cards, giggling women, garden parties, and tea.
Lovely.
Then again house parties also included dark corridors, private rooms, and unchaperoned alone time.
Even better.
Then again every blasted time Sebastian thought of alone time, it was Emma’s face that invaded his thoughts. He pinched his nose and sat.
Nicholas cleared his throat. “I wasn’t aware you and Rawlings still had such a feud between the two of you.”
“He’s incapable of leaving the past in the past,” Sebastian grumbled.
Nicholas sighed. “I know I take my own life into my hands when I argue this point again, Seb, but it wasn’t your fault.”
“It was!” he roared, jumping out of the chair. “If I hadn’t been so busy gambling and drinking that entire week I would have realized it was my parents’ anniversary. I wouldn’t have been anywhere near the river when—”
“Seb, don’t.” Nicholas’s eyes pleaded.
“I saved her at the cost of their lives.” Sebastian finished his whiskey and closed his eyes. “And every time I see that little girl’s face, I wish she would have died, because maybe…maybe if she had, they wouldn’t have.”
Nicholas went to the liquor cabinet and poured another whiskey. “You have no way of knowing that.”
Sebastian refused to answer, because in his heart he knew he was right. Nobody knew the real story behind his cursed nickname. Nobody had any idea the dark thoughts that haunted his dreams—the faces of his parents, both lovely, wanting to surprise him that week at school. Knowing he was busy, they had sent ahead word they would arrive that night for dinner.
When he didn’t show, they had became worried.
What they hadn’t known was that Sebastian, being young and stupid, had gone on a week-long drinking and gambling binge with Rawlings, his best friend at the time. Nicholas, of course, had come along, but at the time wasn’t near the hellion the other two were.
On his way to the latest gambling spot, Sebastian had happened upon a small girl playing on the bridge. Her bonnet had fallen into the river. She had reached out to grab it and slipped, falling into the icy cold water.
Sebastian had been just deep enough in his cups that he hadn’t felt the cold water shock his body as he jumped in after her. Within seconds he had not only grabbed the girl from certain death but had swam to the shore to see at least ten different onlookers all clapping. Stupidly he had taken a bow, kissed the girl on the head as he heard whispers of “That’s the future Duke of Tempest…”
He had celebrated his good luck the rest of the night.
The next day he had awakened smelling and feeling like he had spent hours getting beat at Jacksons. Only it was about to get worse. He had been informed that his parents had not been able to locate him, and worried that he had misunderstood their letter, they had gone back to the country estate, only to get stuck in a terrible thunderstorm. Their carriage had crashed into another just a ways from his home at around the same time he had been pulling the girl out of the water.
So in his mind, even though for years Nicholas and his grandmother had told him differently, he could have prevented his parents’ death. And now it was up to him to make them proud. Never to be that boy again, but instead to be a man.
It was why he never drank excessively and why gambling was for the worst type of sinners. No, his reputation was everything. It had to be. Because the last time his reputation was anything but spotless, the two most important people in his life had been taken from him.
It was his constant reminder that the fates never promised to play fair. That people’s choices always had consequences. Angel duke was a good name, because it bitterly reminded him of who he was and who he had to be to make retribution for the lives that had been stolen from him.
“We’re ready!”
Emma’s cheerful voice penetrated his solemn mood. He snapped his head to the door of the study and managed a bright smile. The room was dimly lit, making it near impossible for him to see her dress clearly. A cloak covered her creamy shoulders. He closed his eyes, sending a quick thanks up to heaven. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to see her shoulders. Not now, and probably not for the rest of the night.
How was one to act when the girl he was affianced to was the girl he was attracted to but not the one he’d marry? The very woman who was to choose his future bride. The irony was too much. As if his body needed reminding, his pulse jumped wildly again when she moved to stand directly in front of him.
Perplexed he simply stared at Emma. Both thinking of an answer to his own thought provoking question and waiting for her to say something. Instead, she stared right back.
“As amusing as it is to watch the two of you stare with your mouths gaping open, I think it’s time we go to the ball and announce your betrothal, hmm?” Nicholas stepped around Sebastian, hitting him on the back in passing. It jolted Sebastian and he closed his mouth.
Emma lifted an eyebrow.
“Let’s go,” he said a little too gruffly.
“Either you’ve had a little too much whiskey or not enough. What were you two discussing in there?” Emma pointed back to the study. Her measly attempt at conversation made Sebastian’s mood darker.
Ignoring her question for a good five seconds, he grabbed his hat and offered his arm. “Nothing at all, my dear. Shall we?”
Chapter Twelve
The ball was magnificent. Animated people were talking and drinking in every corner of the room. Candles lit the would-be dark corridors, most likely trying to deter young couples from the path of ruination. Gowns of silk and lace. Ladies in scandalous clothing with low cut dresses fanned themselves as men teased and flirted. Everyone seemed to sparkle in the night. In fact, everything seemed more alive. She felt more alive, then again, she mustn’t let her thoughts or her heart get ahead of matters. She was here to announce a fake engagement, and then the real work would begin.
She didn’t even see Sebastian approach. “Are you ready to start some rumors?”
Laughing, she turned slowly. Sebastian was dressed impeccably in white and black. His wavy blond hair fell perfectly over his left eye. If she hadn’t known his identity, she would think him rather rakish tonight. He licked his lips and leaned in.
Her heart nearly stopped. Eyes blue and piercing bore into her.
“We might have a little fun before the announcement, let the tongues wag so to speak. What do you think, dear?” His gloved hand was outstretched.
It felt like the story in the Bible in which the serpent told Eve it was only one bite.
But this was the Duke of Tempest. He was known for his manners, his impeccable reputation. So why did his touch, his challenge, make her feel wicked all the way down to her toes?
Well, might as well go down with him.
Every delicious piece of him.
Emma! she scolded herself.
She took his hand and allowed him to lead her into the middle of the dance floor.
“A waltz.” His breath teased the side of her face.
Oh, she was in trouble. Why did everything have to do with dancing? Her past seemed to haunt her with every step she took. In Sebastian’s arms she felt stronger, more capable of facing the monsters that threatened to destroy her at such a young age. What should be a fairy tale felt like a nightmare. Conflicting emotions pounded in her. One minute she was scandalized by the way her body responded to his, the next she was weak with fear.
Twice she had attempted to dance with this man, and both times she had felt ready to faint from the emotional turmoil of it all. Earlier in the evening Sebastian had asked if she was prepared to dance in front of the ton. Saying it would be absolutely necessary for them to dance together in order to push the gossip along. Arguing seemed awkward, considering she hadn’t wanted to explain her aversion to any sort of dancing. It would do neither of them any favors for her to discuss her blatant fear and anger associated with the activity. So she braced herself for what needed to be done and tried to be herself as he led her onto the floor.
Sebastian smiled down at her and winked.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
Her brea
th quickened as he pulled her closer. Had they danced a waltz before? In answer, his hand moved dangerously close to her bottom. No, she would have remembered that hand. That hand…his touch.
The music hadn’t yet started. She still had time to move away. Chest constricting, she began to panic. Dancing brought the memories back, the pain.
“Remember to stay close. We are, after all, in love.” His eyes held wicked intent.
Oh, the things his grandmother would assume about her tonight. It would be amusing if not so terribly heart wrenching. The duchess would more than likely hunt her down with a fire poker after they renounce the engagement.
“Emma.”
“Hmm?” Panicked, she began looking for both the duchess and all sharp objects, just in case word got out tonight that they were pulling the wool over the entirety of the ton.
Sebastian brought his hand up to her jaw and traced it. “Nobody’s going to believe you if you don’t relax.”
Right, relax, when sin incarnate is touching my face.
“That’s it,” Sebastian soothed, his breath tangling with hers. His gaze locked on her lips.
Oh, no.
“You’re beautiful.” The strain of his voice was apparent.
Emma sucked in her breath as Sebastian pulled her even closer. The room faded away. It was just them. She couldn’t look away if she tried. His smile held no smugness, no self-satisfied grin. No, he was pleased. Enjoying himself, enjoying the moment. His dimples lit up his already handsome face.
In a moment of sheer bravery and some might say idiocy, Emma lifted her hand to cup his smooth jaw. He shuddered under her touch.
And then bent his head and brushed the lightest of kisses across her lips.
It was a reverent kiss. One Emma would have liked to repeat.
If the music hadn’t stopped.
She felt herself flush.
Sebastian, bless him, didn’t even seem to notice. She gulped, suddenly nervous about all the attention. The ramifications of what they were doing came back full force, nearly sending her into a frenzied panic.
The Seduction of Sebastian St. James Page 9