A Promise of More

by Bronwen Evans

  Having met Coldhurst, she was right to marry the lesser of two evils.

  She denied that Coldhurst’s beauty was a deciding factor. But the quickening of her pulse called her a liar …

  Chapter Three

  Now that the decision to marry had been forced on him, calmness flowed over Sebastian like a cooling breeze on a hot summer’s day. Ordinarily the prospect of becoming wed-locked would repulse him; he’d be resisting with all his might. But he had killed Beatrice’s brother, be it unintentionally. This was the honorable thing to do. The family’s financial plight was not something he wanted on his conscience as well, nor Beatrice’s moral demise.

  The special license burned a hole in his pocket as he strode up the front steps of Waverly Court, his London residence. Once they had both appropriately dressed, he’d escorted Beatrice safely home, and then he’d gone directly to obtain the required special license. Now he was about to face the hardest task of all, telling his sisters they were about to have another woman join their household and family.

  Before he’d made it halfway up the front steps, the door flew open and Marisa stood looking down on him. He noted that she’d grown more beautiful in the months he’d been away, and he hoped Hadley had protected her as he’d promised. Then, surprisingly, he noted her eyes were swimming with tears, and in the next instant she flung herself at him, her arms encircling his neck and squeezing tight.

  “Thank goodness you’re home safe. I missed you.” She pulled away and punched his chest. Hard. “Don’t ever do anything so foolish again! I refuse to lose my brother in a stupid duel.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her nose. “I’ve missed you too, hellion.”

  He looked past her to find Helen standing quietly in the doorway. He winked at her.

  Helen looked up and down the street. “Come inside at once, you two. What a public spectacle you’re making.”

  With Marisa’s arm tucked in his, he entered his home for the first time since he’d fled England, and a wave of delight washed over him. He’d missed this house, but most of all he’d missed his sisters. Family. He hugged Helen tightly. “Helly, I hope you’ve been reining in your sister. You can tell me later what scandalous behavior she’s been engaging in while I’ve been away. Where’s Aunt Alison?”

  Helen hugged him back and kissed his cheek. “Auntie’s out visiting one of her friends; she’ll be back for dinner. As for Marisa, she’s run Lord Fullerton a merry race. The poor man deserves a medal.”

  “Oh, stop. Just because you have a tendre for Lord Fullerton—”

  “I do not,” Helen replied, with a blush racing over her cheeks.

  It would appear he needed to have a talk with Hadley. He was aware that his friend would not have been encouraging Helen; she was far too young. Would he? Sebastian would give his close friend the benefit of the doubt, since he’d secured his pardon from Prinny.

  Once settled in the drawing room, the girls with their tea and Sebastian with a large brandy in hand, he relaxed and finally gave the girls the presents he’d bought them in Jamaica.

  They loved the little things he’d brought back, especially the shell bracelets. He couldn’t believe how much he had missed these family gatherings. Usually he could stand the two girls’ babbling for only a few minutes before he was either off to his club or out looking for other amusements. However, today he was content to listen to their prattle.

  He let them babble on about the latest news from within the ton, content to enjoy the comforts of home.

  It was Marisa who gave him the opportunity to share his news. She said, “I’m pleased you sorted out this mess regarding the duel before the start of the season. I would have been unable to attend most of the balls if the Prince Regent had not pardoned you. As it is, I’m unlikely to get an invite to Almack’s because of my brother’s wicked reputation.”

  Helen gently corrected her sister: “The only reason you won’t get an invite is because all the mothers are too scared you’ll outshine their daughters. You’re too beautiful.” But she turned to Sebastian and added, “However, being related to you is both an advantage and disadvantage.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, half the mothers don’t invite us because they know you’ll escort us. They fear the notorious rake’s reputation.”

  He gave a wicked smile. “They have no need to fear. I stay well clear of marriageable young ladies.”

  Marisa finished the tale for her sister. “While the other half beg us to come, hoping to ensure your presence. They simply wish to marry their daughters to a rich and handsome marquis.”

  He looked between them both and smiled. “Well, then I have some news that should please you. I’m getting married tomorrow by special license.”

  Helen jumped to her feet. “By special license? Oh no. What have you done now?”

  Her assumption of ill behavior stung. “I have done something honorable for a change, if you must know. I’m marrying Beatrice Hennessey.”

  Their stunned silence was priceless. Helen slowly retook her seat, and was the first to snap shut her open mouth.

  Marisa finally said, “For goodness’ sake. You can’t marry Henpeck Hennessey. You’ll be miserable.”

  He frowned and sat up straighter. “Henpeck?”

  Helen gave her sister a hushing and added, “The men gave her that cruel name, while the ladies think she’s rather nice.”

  “Dull, but nice,” Marisa added. “On-the-shelf, spinster nice. They do not see her as a threat to their daughters’ finding a match.”

  Sebastian only heard the words “men gave her.” “What men would these be and how is it you are in their confidences?” He really shouldn’t have left them with Hadley.

  Marisa gave him that sly smile he knew so well. “Not anyone in particular. It’s amazing what a lady can overhear when no one is paying her any attention.”

  He scoffed at that. “Every man pays you far too much attention.”

  “I overheard Lord Cunniffe tell Lord Fullerton that if her brother hadn’t been killed in a duel, Beatrice would likely have henpecked him to death. Apparently she was always berating him about his behavior.”

  Given the family finances, he could understand why.

  “Goodness, she was known to turn up at gaming hells to drag him home. Scandalous. No wonder no man offered for her. She’s quite attractive when she smiles, but what man wants a nagging, controlling woman for a wife?” Marisa looked innocently at her brother. “So I heard Cunniffe say.” She rushed on, “But I can’t see any woman being able to control you.” She then gave him her most beguiling smile.

  “Minx.” He had to laugh. “So you listen to one piece of gossip and assume that is how she is perceived?”

  Helen looked at her sister, then back at him. “Not exactly. Once you’d fled England, many joked that, had you not shot Doogie, he’d have likely hanged himself because of Henpeck Hennessey. Many thought Larkwell overreacted regarding your sleeping with his mistress, and that he was in an ill temper because Beatrice had been henpecking him to give her up.” She winced but added, “We tried not to listen to the gossip, but many took pleasure in detailing the scandal and were rather less than complimentary about you and her brother.” She shrugged. “Especially the ladies of the ton whom you’d slept with and tossed aside.”

  Now he felt his cheeks heating. Of course his sisters would find out why there had been a duel. But really! Hearing about the women he’d slept with, learning about behavior they should know nothing about … or maybe they should? He didn’t want his sisters falling for any notorious rake that shimmied into their lives. With a start he realized that meant a man like him.

  Suddenly the notion of what sort of example he was setting for his sisters slammed into him like a deadly bullet. His reputation not only affected him, it affected his sisters. He’d never thought about it before, but now that they were young debutantes out in the marriage mart, trying to attract the right sort of man, he needed to present a more re
fined front. His marriage to Beatrice couldn’t have come at a more opportune time.

  “I am not discussing whom I have …” He floundered to find the words. “Needless to say, I do not condone you listening to gossip and I will insist on you welcoming Beatrice into our family regardless of your concerns.” He looked each of his sisters in the eye in turn. “I am more than content with this arrangement. Do you understand?”

  “But why? You could have any woman you wanted. Someone beautiful and stylish. At least a woman who isn’t completely boring. Someone like Lady Christina. I’ve heard she was your—”

  Sebastian cut her off. “Lady Christina. How do you know about …,” he spluttered. “Never mind.”

  “She’s beautiful and the belle of every ball. All the men want her but she seems to want only you. The gorgeous widow has turned down countless proposals, but I’m sure she’d marry you. She is forever talking about you and your expertise in—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, young lady.” Christ, what had Hadley introduced Marisa to while he’d been gone? “Whom I wed is my concern.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to marry Hen—Miss Beatrice out of guilt, Seb. That’s not fair on either of you.” Helen’s quietly spoken words deflated the conversation. “We just want you to be happy.”

  Marisa sighed and folded her hands demurely in her lap. Sebastian wasn’t fooled. The more demure, the more mischief Marisa got herself into.

  “We shall be on our best behavior and will of course welcome her into our home.”

  He didn’t miss the word “our.” This was not going to be easy. The girls had been the ladies of the house for the past five years. It would take some adjusting on their behalf to having a new woman take over the running of his households.

  He stood. “I’m pleased to hear it. Now I’ll leave you to your gossip while I go and deal with the pile of correspondence on my desk. The marriage is to take place tomorrow at Bow Street Chapel. I shall ask Lord Fullerton to stand up for me; I expect you, Marisa, to support Beatrice.”

  “I haven’t seen Lord Fullerton for over a week. Besides, do we not get to meet her before the wedding?”

  He shook his head. He doubted Beatrice or her mother would wish to sit at the same table with him as if the duel had not occurred.

  “No. I think not. Tomorrow will come soon enough.”

  “You will be here for the welcome-home dinner we have prepared for you? You’re not rushing off to have one more night of freedom?”

  He looked at their expectant faces and nodded. “But I may go out afterward. I need to catch up with Hadley.”

  “Oh, I forgot. A missive arrived from him yesterday. It’s on your desk in your study.”

  He strode from the room, calling over his shoulder, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  Reaching his desk, he ignored more important letters and documents and went straight for Hadley’s missive. He tore at the seal, and for some reason his heart began to speed up.

  Hawke,

  I’m sending this note to your London residence in the hope that you’ve received word of Prinny’s pardon and you’re back in England. I’m bored in the country and could use a visit from my fellow Oxford don.…

  Sebastian didn’t bother to read the rest of the short message. He lit a small candle sitting on his desk and held the paper above it. Brown letters began to emerge to reveal a hidden message. The phrase “Oxford don” was code within the Libertine Scholars. It indicated there was a secret message hidden in the note.

  Hawke,

  You could be in danger. I won’t explain in writing, even in a hidden message. If and when you arrive in England, please travel immediately to Markham’s estate in Dorset unless I’m back in London. There may be more to Doogie’s death than we know. I’ll explain all when you arrive. Take care, my friend.

  Hadley Fullerton

  Damn. Not the homecoming he was expecting. Emotionally blackmailed into marriage, and now a serious cryptic message sent in invisible ink, from a man whom he trusted with his life. A man who said he was in danger. But from whom?

  The Hennesseys came to mind; however, without his financial support the family would not survive. No, he was more use to them alive.

  He sank into his chair and pondered this new development. Was it something to do with Christian and Serena? Were they the ones in trouble? True, he did know about Serena’s past, so if she was in danger, it could make him a target.

  Christian Trent, the Earl of Markham, had been in the Caribbean while he was there. Christian had been en route from Canada to England to clear his name of rape. His ward’s governess, Serena, was wanted for murder and Sebastian had aided her in avoiding discovery. He’d not heard what had happened once they’d returned to England. Was this the trouble Hadley alluded to? Was he in trouble for aiding her?

  Sitting here wasn’t going to provide the answers. He made his way back to the drawing room just as Aunt Alison arrived home.

  “Sebastian, dear. How nice to see you home.” His aunt kissed him on both cheeks before she looked him up and down. “You appear to be in good health. Let’s hope you stay that way. Now”—she clapped her hands—“we shall have no further scandalous behavior, agreed?”

  Sebastian understood his aunt had issued a command, not a question. “You’re looking the picture of health, Aunt—”

  “You’ll never guess, Auntie, Sebastian is getting married,” Marisa said excitedly.

  Aunt Alison frowned at her with raised eyebrows and with a nod toward the staff. “Shall we retire to the drawing room to hear Sebastian’s news?”

  Once more he found himself settled in the drawing room. Aunt Alison smoothed her skirts, accepted a small sherry from Sebastian, and then smiled. “Marriage. I love a wedding. Who is the lucky lady?”

  The girls both said at once, “Miss Beatrice Hennessey.”

  Aunt Alison didn’t even blink. “Well, isn’t that interesting,” she pronounced, and took a sip of sherry. “As I always said, sins have a way of ensuring we atone for them.” She threw Sebastian a knowing look. “When is this marriage to take place?”

  He cleared his throat. “Tomorrow morning.”

  “Hmm, so fast. A very guilty conscience, it would seem.”

  “It would appear the Hennesseys’ financial situation is dire.” Sebastian gritted his teeth and watched as his sisters giggled. “If you must know, I have to leave London immediately after the wedding. Lord Fullerton needs my assistance with a small matter.”

  Helen’s head popped up. “What matter? Is Hadley, I mean Lord Fullerton, all right?”

  Marisa sighed. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. The man doesn’t even know you’re alive.”

  “Stop teasing your sister, Marisa.” Aunt Alison turned to Sebastian. “You’ve only just got home, my boy. Surely it can wait a few days.”

  “I’m sorry, Aunt, it cannot wait.”

  “Well, you’ll take your new wife with you. I’m not going to be left to deal with her. Nor will I be left to face the gossip. There will be a thunderstorm of talk when everyone hears you’ve married Miss Hennessey. And even more if they hear you tore off after the wedding and left her here with us.”

  Sebastian noted the firm line of Aunt Alison’s lips and inwardly groaned. Aunt Alison was right. If there was mischief about, leaving London would be noticed. Unless it was for his honeymoon …

  Aunt Alison waggled her finger at him. “She can accompany you. I’m not cleaning up your messes anymore.”

  “Of course my wife will accompany me.”

  With that final statement, Sebastian realized he’d not have a hope in blazing hell of leaving Beatrice behind. Damn. The upside was he’d have plenty of opportunity to sleep with her. The sooner he got her with child, the sooner they could lead separate lives, and she could reside at his country estate, Hawkestone, near York. Out of sight and out of mind.

  Later that night, a small nagging doubt stayed with him as he lay in his bed trying to sleep. A
woman who entered gaming hells to retrieve her brother, and a woman who would come to his ship and proposition him, was unlikely to be the type to sit quietly in the country.

  He fell asleep frowning. The best-laid plans had not met Miss Hennessey. He wouldn’t admit that he looked forward to the challenge.

  Chapter Four

  The wedding took place early the following morning at the chapel in Bow Street. Only Sebastian’s family was present. Beatrice’s mother refused to attend but that did not upset her. Beatrice couldn’t have faced a scene on this day of all days. It was bad enough she was marrying the man who’d killed her brother. As far as Dowager Hennessey was concerned, Beatrice had sold herself to the devil. Her mother could not understand why Beatrice would not contemplate marrying Lord Dunmire.

  For one moment last night, Beatrice considered telling her mother the truth about Dunmire, but then that would let Lizandra’s secret out, and she would protect Lizzy’s confidence until the day she died.

  Dunmire was a monster. If Coldhurst was the devil, then Dunmire was his maker.

  The ceremony was a solemn, swift affair, certainly not even remotely like the cherished ideal of her dreams. The groom in particular did not radiate happiness. He looked pale and his brow had a sheen to it. The entire event seemed surreal to Beatrice. She felt like an observer rather than the glowing bride.

  She smoothed down the skirts of her high-waisted wedding gown. It was the only gown she owned that was suitable. How ironic that the soft ivory satin with a tulle overskirt shot with silver threads complemented the groom’s superbly tailored blue coat, the silver matching the color of his eyes.

  She could scarcely believe she was at her wedding. It was as though it were happening to someone else. After so many seasons with no marriage proposals, she’d never thought this day would come. The fact she had no dowry and was not considered a raving beauty meant that she was not surprised when her first season slipped by with no interested pursuers at all. By the end of her third season, she heard the rumors. Henpeck Hennessey the men called her, all because she was trying to stop her selfish brother from spending the last of their money. As soon as she heard the cruel nickname, coupled with her lack of dowry, she knew her marriage prospects had died.