A Promise of More

by Bronwen Evans

  Beatrice nodded her agreement. “He doesn’t want to hide me away. He wants me in his life—as a friend.”

  Serena screwed her nose up in horror. “Friend?” Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. “Well,” Serena said, “if it’s any consolation, he is a man who goes to great lengths to ensure no one falls in love with him. He has never kept a mistress or long-term lover.” She giggled. “You’ll be the first woman he’s had any kind of long-term relationship with. That must be in your favor.”

  Her tea suddenly tasted like ash. Goodness. That was frightening. “That does not instill me with confidence. If no other woman could gain his heart, how on earth will I?”

  “Because you are there. No other woman has had a chance. You do. He can’t walk away from this relationship.”

  Oh yes he can, Beatrice thought. He can leave me at his country estate and head back to London. He can live his life exactly as he pleases.

  Serena must have read her thoughts. “You will just have to ensure he doesn’t forget you are alive.”

  “And how am I to do that?”

  “Given the number of times he’s secretly glanced this way, I’d say whatever you’re doing is working.”

  Beatrice issued a curse under her breath. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  Serena suddenly became serious. “Just love him. Give your heart and soul to him. He doesn’t know it, but he craves love. In Jamaica, I got a sense that he was lonely. He’s just scared to let love in. He’s petrified of ending up in a relationship like his parents’. Can you do that? Love him?”

  “I’ll try, but I’ll have to be careful. If I move too fast, he’s likely to bolt like a frightened stallion.” She smiled and an eyebrow rose. “Any tips on how to start? I’ve never tried to win a man’s heart before.”

  “With a man of Sebastian’s passionate nature, the bedchamber would seem to be the perfect place to begin.” Serena blushed. “He looked very content this morning, so I assume last night went well?” At Beatrice’s shocked glare, “Well,” Serena said, “our husbands have reputations as fabulous lovers.” She hesitated. “Are we not lucky ladies?”

  They looked at each other and burst into peals of laughter. The men turned to stare. The women looked at each other again and laughed harder.

  Christian strolled over. “Care to share what is so amusing?”

  More laughter. Beatrice’s eyes watered.

  “I’ll explain later when we’re alone,” Serena teased.

  “I think we are being discussed,” Christian said to Sebastian, who’d also come to join them.

  “Should we be alarmed?” came Sebastian’s seductive voice close to her ear as he leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek.

  Serena’s smile widened at his display of affection, while Beatrice tried not to show how much one tender gesture sent her heart tumbling in her chest.

  “We must take our leave, sweetheart,” he said. “I want to get back to London tonight.”

  Beatrice looked around the room; the other men had left, and only the two couples remained.

  “I shall go and oversee my packing.” She turned to Serena. “Will I see you before we leave?”

  “Of course. Christian and I will be there to see you off. We cannot come to London until we have found our enemy, but I hope you’ll write me and let me know how our plan unfolds.”

  “What plan?” Sebastian asked.

  Serena rose and kissed Sebastian on the cheek. “Never you mind. Shall we meet in the foyer in one hour to say goodbye?”

  Beatrice was sad to leave. She’d found a new friend in Serena and an ally. Serena’s advice to engage Sebastian’s desires was sound. The one wee flaw in the otherwise excellent plan was she had no idea how on earth to seduce any man, let alone a rake of Sebastian’s ilk.

  An hour later, as she and Sebastian took their leave, she suspected there would be plenty of correspondence being delivered between London and the Markham estate in Dorset.

  Chapter Seven

  Sebastian reflected on the day’s events during the carriage ride back to London. At the beginning of their journey, Beatrice had tried to converse, but Sebastian’s mind had been otherwise occupied, so she had given up.

  Thankfully, with the carriage being so stuffy on this warm spring day, Beatrice had fallen asleep within an hour of leaving Dorset.

  His fellow Libertine Scholars would be amused to learn that what preyed on his mind was not the identity of their enemy. Instead, it was the wedding; it had had an unusual impact on him. He had been pleased for Christian and Serena. It was obvious they were madly in love. He just hoped that it didn’t go wrong for the pair.

  For a man with Christian’s insecurities about his scars, it wouldn’t take much to set the seed of doubt in his mind. Serena was a very beautiful woman, and Sebastian suspected that once they got back to town, the notorious rakes of the ton would see her as fair game, given her husband’s looks.

  Something deep inside told him neither Christian nor Serena would stray from their marriage vows. Christian had his dream, a wife and family on the way, but what of Serena? She was exceedingly beautiful—inside and out. Surprisingly, Sebastian found himself trusting her with his friend’s heart. Serena would be the first woman Sebastian had ever given the benefit of the doubt to. He had believed her when she had spoken her vows.

  He looked across the small space in the carriage. A slight churning started deep in his guts, and it had nothing to do with the food or the alcohol they had consumed last night and this morning. He glanced down at Beatrice as she lay sleeping curled on her side on the squab across from him.

  He should have listened to his inner warning the day they married. Beatrice was far more beautiful than he’d originally thought, and had a far greater effect on him than any wife should.

  He let his eyes study her as she lay sleeping. He drank in the sleek curves of her hips, the full lush breasts, and the pouting lips.

  After the shared passion of last night, he was hard-pressed not to wake her and take her here, in his carriage.

  She had an exquisite body, lush, slender, and made for pleasure. He could hear her cries of passion in his head, and he grew hard.

  He studied her intently. However, his chaotic feelings went deeper than the lure of beauty. He didn’t know what it was about her, but something in her called to him. When he had been forced to marry her, he’d prayed he didn’t come to loathe going home. To loathe having to share his bed with a woman he had absolutely no feelings for whatsoever. No respect. No admiration.

  The ache in his groin put paid to loathing. He wanted her with every fiber of his being.

  He swallowed hard. Now Sebastian was full of admiration for Beatrice. Last night she’d been terrified of sharing her body with him, yet when he’d asked for her trust she had given it without hesitation.

  He’d taken his time introducing her to lovemaking; he’d owed her that gift.

  He’d been her first lover, the poignancy of the moment not lost on him. He’d wanted the night to be magical for her. To let her experience passion for the first time, to watch the play of emotions on her face and to feel how her body responded to him.

  The awakening of her womanhood was a gift he’d cherish always. As she had on the day on the dock, when she had almost drowned, and then propositioned the man who she thought had killed her brother, Beatrice had faced last night with much courage and bravery. He couldn’t help but admire her. There were no tears or hysterics. She just calmly put herself into his hands.

  She’d trusted him. Could he trust her in return?

  What disturbed him was the fact he had found making love to Beatrice rather more enjoyable than he had expected.

  He gazed down upon her in her sleep, dispassionately analyzing her. She wasn’t a stunningly beautiful woman—not in Serena’s league. He frowned at the thought. No, he was wrong. In her own way she was. She was pretty until she smiled. When she smiled, it was as if her face came to life. Her eyes took on a lumin
ous sparkle and the pallor of her skin seemed to take on an ethereal glow. Then she could challenge Helen of Troy’s crown; then she was exceedingly beautiful.

  He twisted in his seat, uncomfortable with the realization that even now he desired her. He wanted her with a burning need—here, now, in this carriage. His mind ran to the feel of her skin, to the firmness of her breasts if he loosened her gown and let his hands and mouth roam.

  Damn it. He didn’t want to desire his wife too much. Sure, he wanted to enjoy bedding her in order to get her with child, but the purpose of lying with one’s wife was for begetting an heir. A mistress was for pleasure and one’s baser desires. He did not like the feelings rioting in his chest. Beatrice shouldn’t consume his thoughts. He forced his mind to move on to other, more important matters.

  The other good news from the recent days’ events was the fact he was unlikely to have killed Doogie Hennessey. Doogie’s shot came after his. So, if he’d killed Doogie instantly, how could Doogie have fired? No. Someone else fired that second shot and he bet it was that shot that killed Doogie. He could face his wife with a clear conscience. He didn’t understand why that was so important, but for some reason he wanted Beatrice to like him. He didn’t want to have to spend the rest of his life with a woman who resented him or even hated him. That would not be good for their children or conducive to a peaceful life.

  When they arrived back in London, Beatrice did not wake, even when the carriage stopped. Carefully gathering her in his arms, he carried her up to her room, gently stripped her down to her shift, and tucked her into bed. He smiled to himself. She would soon have a lady’s maid to see to her dress, but he loved feeling her skin, watching the delights of her body be displayed to his gaze. He started at the realization he’d like to undress her every night.

  He was in a bad way.

  She was exhausted. It had been a harrowing few days for his wife. Stress-filled days that she had faced and conquered. Warmth invaded his chest until he noticed the silly smile on his face and the fact that he was gently stroking her cheek. He abruptly stepped back.

  He would not stay with her tonight. The feelings that were swirling inside his chest indicated he was getting too close. It was time to put distance between them. He would, of course, let her help with the investigation. Doogie was her brother. But he didn’t want this relationship to deepen any further. Already his thoughts far too often dwelled on his wife, when he had an enemy to apprehend.

  He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead and left the room to go to his cold bed.

  Beatrice didn’t wake the next morning until one of the maids entered to start her bath. The girl curtsied before her. “His lordship thought you might like a bath drawn, my lady.”

  She smiled at the girl. “That would be lovely, thank you. What is your name?”

  “Sarah, my lady.” Sarah went to her wardrobe to fetch a robe, before approaching the bed. Beatrice slowly sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, and the maid helped her into the robe she held.

  “What time is it, Sarah?”

  The maid pointed to the clock on the mantelpiece and said, “Almost noon, my lady.”

  Gosh, she had slept in. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept this late. Her face heated. She did remember—it was yesterday, the day after Sebastian had made love to her.

  She looked back at her bed. It was obvious she had slept alone last night. Sebastian must have slept in his own room. She couldn’t help the disappointment that seeped into her bones. He hadn’t wanted to stay with her. Perhaps their one night together wasn’t as special as she thought it was.

  That didn’t bode well for her plan of seducing her husband into loving her. If he preferred to stay in his own bed, how was she to implement the strategy Serena had come up with? She shook her head and tried not to read too much into it. It could have been because he was as tired as she had been. They’d had a few stressful days.

  Entering the bathing chamber, she was disappointed to see the door into his room was shut.

  As she sank into the hot water, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Luxury. She’d had a bath on her wedding day, which seemed days and days and days ago, but was in reality only two days ago. Her life had changed so much since then she could hardly believe it.

  For once, she allowed a small smidgen of happiness to invade her body. Her husband. She still couldn’t quite believe it: she had a husband, and her husband was someone as beautiful as Sebastian. If not for Doogie’s death, she’d count herself extremely lucky.

  She blew out a breath and sank below the water. She no longer had to resent her husband. Joy surged. If anything, she very much wanted to like her husband. No, not like, love.

  Something about Christian and Serena’s wedding had made a tolerable marriage intolerable. She no longer simply wanted security for herself and her family, she wanted more. She wanted what Christian and Serena had. A love match. Sebastian didn’t appear to be in love with anyone else. In fact, he despised love. So, even though his affections were not directed elsewhere, the task before her was monumental. He abhorred the very idea of love.

  However, if anyone had told her three months ago she’d be Lady Coldhurst, she would have thought they were crazy.

  “Would you like me to wash your hair for you?”

  The patrician voice made her start and she looked up into the smiling face of Sebastian’s sister, Marisa. Marisa didn’t seem to be at all embarrassed by Beatrice’s nudity.

  She sank deeper into the water. “I’m not sure that is appropriate.”

  Marisa just sighed. “I do it for Helen all the time. Now that we are sisters, I’m hoping I can treat you exactly as I would Helen.”

  Marisa’s smile was infectious. Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s forwardness. “My sisters are far too young to be my confidantes. I’d like very much for us to be sisters and friends.”

  Marisa’s answering smile was exactly like Sebastian’s, and Beatrice’s stomach flipped.

  “I’m sure we will be,” Marisa said. “Besides, you will need to look your best tonight. It is Lady Wickham’s ball, and it will be your first outing as Lady Coldhurst.”

  Beatrice caught her breath. “So soon. I’m not sure I am ready to face the ridicule of the ton.”

  “Of course you are. I’ve got a beautiful dress picked out for you to wear, because I have been through the clothes you arrived with and there really is nothing appropriate among them. They are a few seasons out of date.”

  Beatrice’s face heated. “We didn’t have enough money for me to dress in the finest ball gowns, and given my age, there wasn’t much point. I was hardly a debutante. The marriage mart had all but dried up for me.”

  Marisa humphed. “You are not that old. However, I do remember you seemed to go out of your way to make yourself as unappealing as possible.”

  Marisa tipped Beatrice’s head back and poured water through her hair, then took the soap and started to wash it.

  “There didn’t appear to be any point in making myself appealing,” Beatrice said. “With my nickname, and the fact that everyone knew I had no dowry, most men were not interested.”

  “Well, that has all changed. You are Sebastian’s wife, Marchioness Coldhurst. I suspect that now you are married you might become a prime target for the more rakish fraternity. Just a wee warning about my brother: it would not pay to be overly flirtatious. My parents’ history has made him wary of any long-term relationship or the feelings that develop. He’s concerned he’ll behave exactly like my father.”

  It was Beatrice’s turn to laugh. “I hardly think Sebastian would ever have cause to be jealous over me. I have never been the flirtatious type, nor have I ever caught the eye of any gentleman.”

  Marisa picked up a bucket and rinsed her hair until it was clear of soap. “By the time Helen and I have finished dressing you, and my maid has done your hair, you will be a completely new woman. Even Sebastian will struggle to recognize you.�
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  “I don’t want Sebastian not to recognize me. We have come to an arrangement that is to my liking.”

  “Let me guess, he has given you the ‘Let’s be friends and respect each other’ speech.”

  “How on earth do you know that?”

  “Because he gave the same speech to Lady Christina, the widow who has been chasing after him for quite some time. He hoped those words would put her off, but I don’t think they have. In fact, I don’t think your marriage will either. She is looking for another amusement and she has her eye on Sebastian.”

  The idea of Sebastian taking a mistress or a lover made her stomach cramp and cold waves of fury swamp her. She might not have her husband’s love yet, but she didn’t want him to be with anyone else. If she was to make Sebastian fall in love with her, she couldn’t have a rival. He could not be allowed to form any sort of attachment with any other woman.

  “And will Lady Christina be at the ball tonight?”

  Marisa nodded and handed her a towel as Beatrice made to step out of the tub.

  “I’m sure she will, because she knows Sebastian will be there. That is another reason why it is vitally important you are looking your best tonight. Don’t worry. I will look after you. Between the two of us, we shall keep Sebastian so engaged he won’t have any time to be sidetracked by that viper.”

  Sebastian awoke the next morning hard as rock. Frustration made a bad bedfellow. He now regretted his decision to sleep alone last night. He lay back and pictured Beatrice’s soft curves and let out a groan. He could be kissing, fondling, and sliding into her tight heat right this minute.

  Upon those thoughts, his hand drifted to his groin and he wrapped his fist around his straining member and stroked. His eyes closed and he let himself become immersed in memories of Beatrice in the throes of passion. Her passion-filled cries, her whimpers, the way her body moved with his … it didn’t take long for him to explode.

  Panting, he sank back into the soft bed, his heart racing with the force of his release. Christ, he was in a bad way. He couldn’t comprehend how just the thought of his wife drove him so quickly over the edge.