Marisa stared out the window lost in her own thoughts, a dreamy smile upon her lips. No doubt thinking of the very handsome Lord Rothburg, who’d stayed firmly in their box since intermission. He’d bid them a goodnight with the promise to call on Marisa in the morning.
Too soon they were home. Beatrice needed to know what Clarice had uncovered.
Hadley exited the carriage and had just turned to help Marisa descend when the front door flew open and Arend yelled, “Wait! Don’t let them leave the carriage just yet.”
“What on earth is the matter?” Hadley asked as Arend and Maitland rushed forward, their eyes sweeping the street.
Maitland spoke in hushed tones, hoping the ladies could not hear. “Sebastian was shot as he arrived home this evening.”
Beatrice didn’t wait to hear more; she was out of the carriage faster than a lightning strike. Heedless of the worried shouts behind her, she raced inside and up the stairs with her heart lodged in her throat. Sebastian had been shot …
She heard Marisa close behind her, calling out for Helen.
She reached the top landing and Helen flung herself into her arms, tears streaming down her face. “Aunt Alison and the doctor are in with him. They won’t tell me anything.”
It was good having someone to comfort or she was sure she’d fall to pieces too, and the two frightened young ladies needed her. They stood hugging and sobbing in the hall until Maitland arrived and shepherded them like meek sheep into the drawing room.
“I’ve organized for tea to be delivered. Don’t look so worried, ladies. It is but a scratch and—”
“There was blood everywhere,” Helen wailed, which only made Beatrice rise from her seat. She had to see him.
Maitland blocked her exit. “It was only a flesh wound, but a second bullet grazed his head and head wounds tend to bleed profusely. I swear on my honor, he is fine. Why don’t you have a cup of tea and gather yourself before you see him?”
Beatrice was torn. She wanted to go to him at once, but what if Sebastian didn’t want her there? She finally retook her seat. “What happened?”
“He was shot as he walked up the steps to the door of Waverly Court. So none of you are to leave the house unescorted. We don’t know if the assailant is still in the area, or if he’s targeting anyone besides Sebastian.”
“Were you with him?”
Arend answered her question as he entered the room. “No. Your aunt sent word to us at White’s. Beatrice, he’s asking for you.” Both Helen and Marisa jumped to their feet. “Just Beatrice for now. We don’t want to tire him out.”
“I’ll send for you after I’ve had a quick word.” At Arend’s frown she added, “They want to see their brother. They won’t sleep if they cannot reassure themselves that he will be fine.” Without waiting for a reply, she hurried up the stairs.
At Sebastian’s bedchamber door she had to stop and compose herself. She was standing there taking deep breaths, readying herself to knock, when she heard laughter coming from inside the room, and she quickly opened the door.
It would appear Sebastian was not much injured. He lay on his side facing the door and was talking freely with the doctor, his muscled chest bare and very appealing, a sheet draped discreetly over his lower half, obviously naked beneath. Her heart started drumming madly again.
Aunt Alison came out of his dressing room, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Don’t look so worried, Beatrice, he’ll live. He might have a thick head for a few hours, but that’s more likely to be from the amount of alcohol he’s consumed.”
“As it turns out, it was just as well I was three sheets to the wind, or I might have been injured worse. Besides, it dulls the pain from the doctor’s stitches.”
Beatrice hurried to Sebastian’s side, her eyes filling with tears of relief, which she quickly blinked away. That would be too much emotion for Sebastian.
She stood by his bed not sure if she should kiss him in front of the doctor and Alison.
“I’ll show you out, Dr. Jamieson,” said Aunt Alison.
The doctor gathered his bag before turning to address the patient. “No physical activity for a while or you’ll rip open those stitches. I’ll come by in a couple of days to see how they are healing. In the meantime, change the dressings twice a day and keep the wound clean.”
“I can’t laze around here for the next few days. There is an assassin on the loose.”
“You will if you want the wound to heal.”
“I’ll ensure he follows your instructions, Doctor.” Beatrice’s words earned her a scowl from Sebastian. As soon as the doctor and Aunt Alison had left, she approached the bed. “Are you really all right? The girls are very worried.”
“Only the girls?” he said, and gave her one of his wicked, heart-stopping smiles and patted the bed, inviting her to sit. “I’ll be fine. I don’t want the girls to see me until tomorrow. They’ll ask too many questions and I don’t want them frightened any more than they already are.”
She eased herself onto the edge of the bed and pushed his hair out of his eyes, her heart swelling with tender feelings. She longed to throw herself into his arms and hug him to death for scaring her so. “They won’t sleep until they know you are not badly injured.”
“I told Maitland to let them know I was fine.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Have you met your sisters? Nothing is going to stop them visiting you tonight.”
Just then there was a timid knock at the door and it opened to Marisa sneaking a worried look. Her face broke into a relieved smile as she saw her brother half sitting up, leaning on his elbow and looking very much like his godly self.
“Oh, you are looking perky, so you can’t be badly hurt.” She giggled as Helen pushed past her and entered the bedchamber. “The bandage on your head looks ridiculous.”
Beatrice thought it made him look younger and vulnerable. It softened his aristocratic countenance and brought out her mothering instincts.
Helen appeared more concerned. Her young eyes raked his bare chest, no sign of embarrassment at seeing her brother half naked. “Where were you shot?”
Beatrice should have thought to ask that question. Maitland had already said the head wound was a scratch. To her surprise Sebastian’s face flooded with color.
“Nowhere that is life-threatening,” he said sheepishly. “Now, if you two hellions don’t mind, I’d like to talk with my wife privately.”
Marisa sent Beatrice a knowing wink, which Sebastian caught, and Beatrice noted his frown. The girls kissed him and told him they’d check on him in the morning, then left the two of them alone, quietly closing the door behind them.
“Where have you been shot? You don’t seem to be badly hurt.”
“That depends on how you look at it. I’m shot somewhere that makes moving distinctly difficult, and with you looking good enough to eat in that gown, I find I would like to move quite vigorously.”
As usual, trying to ignore the heat in his eyes was like trying to deny the sun. “You heard what the doctor said. No moving.”
Sebastian sighed and, still on his side, eased down so his head rested on the pillow. “Don’t suddenly go all Henpeck on me now. I need a little bit of soothing. My male vanity has taken a direct hit.”
She tried to ignore his gibe, for he had been shot, but hurt settled in her chest. Would she ever live that hateful name down? Besides, Sebastian knew more than anyone else how she loathed that name. Did he do it on purpose, to keep distance between them?
Anger flared and she stood. “Perhaps you could tell me what happened, since my concern is not required.”
“I was returning from White’s, having been to Clarice’s, and I will admit to being a little worse for drink. As I walked up the steps to the door, I tripped and fell forward just as I heard a pistol fire. If I hadn’t tripped, I’d likely be hurt far worse, or perhaps dead. Instead the bullet caught me in my right buttock—”
“You got shot in the bottom!” Beatrice
couldn’t help but giggle. “No wonder you don’t want anyone to know.”
“Yes, all right, very funny. I was shot in the arse. Then as I tried to stand, a second shot sounded and just grazed my temple. By then Roberts and the staff came to my assistance, and the rest is a blur.”
She began to pace the room, not finding anything amusing in the attack now she realized how close he’d come to being killed. “This wasn’t a warning. Whoever it was meant to kill you.”
“Stop moving, you’re making me dizzy. Sit here,” he said, patting the bed. Once she’d taken a seat, he barked an order. “You and the girls are not to leave the house for the next few days.” As she started to issue a protest, he added, “Not until Arend says it’s safe to do so, and then only when accompanied.”
“Marisa won’t like it. She’s having a wonderful season, and finally Lord Rothburg seems to be declaring himself. He’s to call on her in the morning.”
He reached up and took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “Promise me. I will have your word, Beatrice—your word. You will ensure Marisa and Helen stay home too. I won’t have any of your lives on my conscience.”
Beatrice couldn’t look away from the concern in his beautiful sky-before-a-storm eyes. He genuinely cared for her. She nodded her head.
“My sisters are my world. Say the words,” he insisted.
So much for caring about her. Sebastian obviously still didn’t trust her. What if Henry needed her? What if Monica summoned her? She couldn’t hold his gaze, for she would have to go. Henry had only Beatrice to rely on.
“I will not go out unless with Arend or one of the other Libertine Scholars, and I promise to ensure neither of the girls do, either.”
He kept looking at her before finally letting her chin go and leaning in and placing a kiss on her lips. “Good girl. Now, the alcohol is wearing off and my buttock is on fire. Be a good wife and pour me another whiskey.”
When she handed him the glass, he said, “Come and lie down beside me and tell me about your night.”
He drank the amber liquid in one gulp, and as she carefully lay next to him, on her side facing him, she saw the tiredness in his eyes. “It’s been a long night. Why don’t you try and sleep and we can discuss your visit to Clarice’s and what you learned tomorrow. I suspect the attempt on your life has to do with your visit.”
“Probably.” His eyelids began to droop and he muttered softly, “Did you enjoy the opera?”
Before she could respond, he slipped into the land of dreams; she smiled to think that his last thought was of her. She lay watching him sleep, her hand tucked under her face. Her corset was digging into her skin, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave his side.
He looked so vulnerable, different from the confident front he showed the world, and she understood how fortunate and privileged she was to see this side of such a complicated man.
If only he would begin to see her the same way, but she feared his life was already so hectic that the only place he saw in it for her was in his bed to provide him children. Beatrice wanted more than that. She wanted to shoulder some of his responsibilities. She wanted to be there for him to lean on, to trust that she would always be by his side.
Perhaps if she helped solve the puzzle and caught the assassin, he’d look at her differently. Her mind once again turned to the niggling memory that she’d seen the initials H.B. before. But where? In her brother’s papers?
She ran her hand over Sebastian’s hair, feeling the silky softness beneath her fingers. He stirred but did not wake. She would ask Arend to escort her to her family’s home soon and help her look through Doogie’s papers.
Chapter Fifteen
The next two days were the happiest days of her married life because she had something to do. Sebastian remained in bed, not because he was poorly, but because of where the stitches were. It hurt to walk, as any movement pulled on the stitches. To say Sebastian was a terrible patient was an understatement.
On the second, particularly tense afternoon, Beatrice talked Arend into taking her to visit her family. They spent the afternoon going through Doogie’s papers but found nothing relating to H.B.
Hours later Roberts greeted her upon her return home. “The patient is requesting your presence.” His tone was nothing but polite; however, Beatrice sensed the tension beneath. “The doctor has visited and told him a few more days in bed.”
“I take it that didn’t sit well with his lordship.”
“He’s calling for his valet and is insisting on dressing and coming down for dinner. Perhaps you could offer support to Mr. Matthews.”
Beatrice hurried toward the stairs as raised voices came from above and the sound of a door slamming floated down to greet her as she raced toward Sebastian’s room.
“Bloody help me into my trousers or by God you’ll be looking for another position.”
Beatrice glimpsed Mr. Matthews’s exasperated face in the mirror as she entered Sebastian’s bedchamber. “What on earth is all this yelling? I’m surprised the whole street hasn’t heard you.” Her nod at Mr. Matthews was the valet’s signal to make his escape. “Please get back into bed, Sebastian, or at least lie down before I have to call the doctor back to redo your stitches and then you’ll end up in bed for another week.”
He stood glaring at her, naked, hands on hips. He looked like a bull about to charge. “Get Matthews back here, or I swear I’ll go down to dinner wearing a sheet.”
“If you’re lacking for company, I’ll arrange for all of us to have dinner in your room, as long as you get back in bed.”
“Don’t test me, Beatrice. I’m going stark raving mad shut up in this room. Even you deserted me this afternoon.”
She moved to his side and gave him a little push back toward the bed. “Stop pouting like a spoiled child. It won’t be forever, just until the doctor’s sure the stitches will hold.”
He eased back down onto the mattress, but before she could turn away he pulled her down on top of him. “Where has my beautiful wife been all day? I missed you.”
Desire flared at the touch of his heated skin beneath her hands. He grew hard, his erection pulsing against her stomach, she could feel him, and his hand began wandering under her dress, his fingers caressing her thigh.
She smiled indulgently. “Behave. There is no way you’re making love to me. I’ve watched that gorgeous bottom of yours, and if you can’t walk you can’t—”
He stopped her words with a passionate kiss. He claimed her mouth, his tongue sweeping in, sending her senses reeling. Her blood ignited and a delicious shiver raked her skin. Before she knew what was happening, she felt his hands at her back releasing the hooks of her dress.
She tried to roll out of his hold.
He broke their kiss to inform her, “If I lie still on my back and let you do all the work, we can both find our pleasure.”
Beatrice was very tempted. “The doctor said—”
“Bloody hell, if anyone else spouts ‘the doctor said’ at me, I’ll shoot them. I want to make love.”
She pushed out of his hold, anger growing. He hadn’t even said “make love to you”—just “make love.”
“And of course you always get what you want,” she said.
“Why are you being such a shrew? You’ll more than find it pleasurable.”
“Oh, I’m flattered. My husband is bored, so I should pander to his need for sex.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed and she saw his jaw firm. Silence echoed around the room.
“As I recall, your agreement is to pander to my desires. You agreed to share my bed, provide me an heir, while I agreed to pay for your family’s upkeep.” He lay back, his nakedness enticing against the silk sheets, his hands linked behind his head. “Go on, pander away.”
She sat still for a moment, stunned. She wanted to slap him. Pain lanced her insides, as if she’d been gutted by a dull spear. She had to turn away before he saw the tears welling in her eyes. She drew in a shaky br
eath and tried to push off the bed. She just wanted to escape. Never had he made it clearer how he viewed their marriage and her importance in it.
She heard him whisper, “Christ,” behind her back and her head lifted and her shoulders straightened. She kept her back to him and said, “You wanted to be friends. That’s what you offered. No friend would treat another like you just treated me. If sex is all you want, then perhaps I should call for Miss Hudson, because I’m suddenly feeling rather indisposed.”
With that, she stood and, without looking at him, walked to the door between their adjoining rooms. She hesitated before leaving, willing him to apologize, but as her hand turned the handle, silence reigned. “I’ll have your dinner sent up. Arend said he’d be along later to update you on Clarice’s lead. I believe Arend might have narrowed down the type of black coach her men sighted the night the note was delivered.”
The door closed quietly behind her, and Sebastian cursed himself a million ways to hell. He wanted to hit something—his face, if at all possible. He’d been a complete arse and he’d hurt her.
Beatrice was right, a friend would not have spoken like that, nor should a husband. He’d basically treated her like a whore. A bought-and-paid-for whore.
He ran a shaky hand over his face. He should apologize but he couldn’t walk properly, he wasn’t dressed, and he didn’t know what to say when he found her. She wanted something he refused to give—his heart.
He couldn’t very well drop onto bended knee and declare that he loved her. He knew that was what she wanted. He recognized the tenderness in her eyes every time she looked at him. Knew she imagined herself in love with him. He couldn’t stand to see the same look that his mother had on her face when she looked at his father. Couldn’t bear to see the pain in them every time his father let his mother down.
Safer to make her keep her distance, but his body still ached at the memory of her in his arms, soft, eager. And what irked him more was that he didn’t just want sex. He wanted sex with her. Only her. Making love to Beatrice sent him to another world. A place where nothing could touch them, where only they existed, and he’d missed that connection the last few nights more than he should. Was that why he hadn’t spoken up when he knew Beatrice was waiting for an apology?
A Promise of More Page 21