He had hired a box where a lavish supper had been served for the Earl’s family, as well as a few other notable figures. When darkness had fallen and all the lanterns which lined the The Grand Walk had been lit, the Earl himself had suggested that the group take a stroll through the gardens. The romance of the beautiful, perfume filled gardens had inspired Sebastian, and as the group made their way down The Grand Walk he had decided there and then that he would propose to Petra. The only problem being that Petra seemed to have disappeared.
Halting in his tracks Sebastian had scanned the vicinity and was rewarded by a fleeting glimpse of blonde curls disappearing down one of the more private serpentine walks. If his brain had been working, he would have thought it strange that Petra had not invited him to walk with her along the moonlit path - but as usual his brain had been melted by a pair of big blue eyes.
The murmur of voices speaking urgently,as he approached, alerted him that something was amiss. The low masculine voice which was speaking sounded strangely familiar to Sebastian’s ears. He racked his brain to try to conjure from his memories who the voice belonged to, when Petra spoke, saving him the bother.
“Oh Alfred,” Petra’s voice was a nasal whine, as she addressed Sebastian’s Eton nemesis, Lord Alfred Von Huntington, in the dark walkway. “Papa says that if that plebeian Black proposes that I have to accept. He’s richer than Croesus, even though he’s just an illegitimate commoner. And Papa needs his money, or he’ll have to borrow against Lancashire House to pay the debts owed on the estate.”
Sebastian felt as though he had been sucker punched in the stomach. He exhaled loudly and tried to steady himself, his knees having turned to jelly as he listened to his intended bride malign him.
“That street rat,” Von Huntington snorted derisively, his low voice carrying perfectly in the night air. “ It should be illegal to allow people like him accrue so much wealth. If you marry him Petra - and I know it’s a burden - then encourage him to follow his brother to France, you’ll be a wealthy widow before you know it and then we can marry.”
“Why can’t we just run away together now?”
Despite the conversation that Sebastian had just overheard, he almost felt sorry for Petra as she realised that Von Huntington wasn’t willing to act as her knight in shining armor.
“I’ve no money Petra,” Von Huntington murmured; “You know how it is with the estate…”
Their low voices turned into the sounds of lovers embracing, and Sebastian felt his stomach turn. He had broken Von Huntington’s nose his first night at Eton because he had had no other weapons then except his fists - now however…
In the weeks that followed, a series of unfortunate events beset the families of the Earl of Lancashire and Lord Von Huntignton, Baron of Bristow. The Earl’s eldest daughter had to suffer the embarrassment of receiving the cut absolute from Sebastian Black, in Lady Cowper’s ballroom no less. The chattering classes declared Mr. Black a rake, and when Sebastian purchased a loan belonging to the Earl and proceeded to take him to the edge of bankruptcy, he was declared a reprobate to boot.
Sebastian managed to hold off destroying the Earl of Lancashire completely - in exchange for his London home, which faced out onto St. James Square. Von Huntignton however…
Von Huntignton had already ruined himself.
This Sebastian discovered after his purchase of Nuit Noire, a den of vice that Von Huntington had been known to frequent. The young Lord Von Huntington owed out to all the gaming hells in London, and was on course to destroy the family wealth in a matter of weeks. Sebastian quickly decided that he did not want the ruination of a man his own age on his hands, and left Von Huntington to his own devices.
His revenge mission at an end, Sebastian had turned away from the ton and their parties to concentrate on his business ventures, which continued to thrive. However, the more that he eschewed the upper classes, the more they threw themselves at him, much to his amusement.
But the incident with Petra had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he could not contemplate ever having serious intentions towards anyone again, let alone a daughter of the nobility. Until now.
The home of the Marquess of Sutherland neighboured his own, and rather than return to an empty, echoing residence Sebastian decided to call upon Gabriel for a night cap.
The butler ushered him into the entrance hall and went to fetch the Marquess, whose whereabouts within the rambling building were unknown.
Sebastian ambled towards the drawing room, as the elderly servant shuffled away to find the missing Marquess. Feminine laughter greeted him at the door, which was ajar, spilling light into the hallway. Unable to resist himself, Sebastian peeked inside, hoping to catch a glance of Aurelia in a more relaxed state.
She was seated on the sofa with Lady Caroline and they both appeared, to Sebastian’s untrained eye, to be doing needle work of some kind. Their heads were bent, their gazes focused on their work so Sebastian had to strain to hear their voices.
“I will be most happy to sponsor you next season,” Caroline said cheerfully; “Or if Theo is found, I can act as your chaperone. You need a woman’s intuition when searching for a husband.”
“Oh I couldn’t ask you to do that Lady Caroline,” Aurelia protested, causing Sebastian to smile as he noted the flush of embarrassment which crept over her face and neck.
“Oh but I insist!” Caroline responded firmly; “I wish that I had had some help when it came to picking a husband, tell me what type of man did your father have in mind for you?”
“A prince,” Aurelia responded with a laugh; “Or failing that a duke perhaps…”
Sebastian’s heart rate increased with shock as he listened to her speak.
“Well father’s always want what’s best for their daughters,” Caroline responded gaily; “Did he really wish you to be titled?”
“Oh yes,” Aurelia said fervently, then adopted a snooty tone as she impersonated her father. “His favorite expression was nothing less than a Viscountess…”.
Sebastian backed away from the door slowly, suddenly stone, cold sober and nauseated at the thought that it had happened again. He had fallen for another girl who would never love a bastard.
CHAPTER TEN
.
The Theatre Royal on Catherine Street in Covent Garden, had been the scene of Aurelia’s initial glimpse of Theo all those weeks ago. As the Marquess of Sutherland ushered his charges - Aurelia and Caroline as well as Lydia and her Aunt the Dowager Duchess - inside the bustling foyer, she had glanced back over her shoulder to the street outside, longing to once more sight her brother.
She cared not for the play that they were attending - The King’s Proxy - but more for the interval, when Sebastian had written to say that he would update her on what his men had discovered whilst tailing Lord Epsom. She did not want to think of what employing numerous men to shadow her Uncle day and night was costing the generous Mr. Black, for Aurelia knew she could never repay him, and what’s more that he would not take payment from her.
“Blackmore!”
Lord Sutherland stood to greet the Duke of Blackmore, who swept into the small box and immediately proceeded to take up an awful lots of space. He was very big, Aurelia thought with alarm, as Sutherland directed Blackmore to the empty seat beside her. After a brief exchange of greetings with Lady Beaufort and his mother, Blackmore took his seat silently. Aurelia glanced at him from the corner of her eye, mentally comparing him to his brother. It was clear that both men were related, for they were both of dark colouring with contrasting ice-blue eyes, and they both shared the same aristocratic features - right down to the strong jaw and aquiline nose. Where the Duke was broad, Sebastian was more lithe, and his movements were more elegant than his older brother’s. Sebastian was also more relaxed, more charming than his brother - to Aurelia’s mind at least.
The King’s Proxy was one of the longest, dullest plays that Aurelia had ever sat through. The Duke sat towering beside her, glaring over at the
box opposite, apparently angered by its occupants existence.
“Is your Grace enjoying the opera?” Aurelia ventured hesitantly, deciding to break the silence.
“It’s rather long,” he replied bluntly.
Right, Aurelia thought with alarm, that’s the end of that conversation thread.
She did not attempt to engage his Grace in any more idle chatter, and instead she fidgeted with her reticule until the curtains downed and the gas lights flickered on for the interval.
“Let’s fetch a lemonade,” Lydia cried, her dark eyes seeking out Aurelia the second the lights came on. Lady Beaufort was dressed in a rather elaborate head-piece, which included several rather tall ostrich feathers. All in all the hat gave Lydia the appearance of being nearly six foot in height, and the tips of the feathers tickled the nose of the Marquess who had stood up beside her.
“I would be delighted to take you both to fetch some refreshments,” Sutherland offered. Aurelia could not say for sure, but she rather thought the smile which he wore was a smirk, as Lydia’s face darkened with annoyance.
“He is the most insufferable man,” Lydia hissed, as they made their way down the stairs to the main foyer, Lord Sutherland a few steps behind.
“He keeps calling on me, and asking me to dance at balls and..and -”
Lydia’s diatribe against Sutherland came to an end as she spotted a familiar face in the crowd.
“Oh I say Aurelia, it’s Isabella, my new friend. Come lets say hello.”
Without a backward glance to Sutherland, she dragged Aurelia across the crowded foyer, ignoring the Marquess calling after them that he’d catch up in a moment.
Miss Isabella Peregrine was standing with her sister Lady Longleaf when the two girls reached them. The quartet exchanged pleasant greetings, before Lady Longleaf took leave to seek out her husband.
“Aurelia has run away from her wicked Uncle’s home,” Lydia said excitedly once the staid presence of Lady Longleaf was removed.
“Lydia!” Aurelia cried, swatting her friend with her fan - honestly, she had no sense of propriety.
“Oh Isabella won’t tell,” Lydia reassured her, throwing Isabella a winning smile.
“You are here as a guest of the Duke?” Miss Peregrine ventured, sensing that Aurelia desired a change of conversation.
“Actually Blackmore is here as my guest,” a velvety smooth voice interjected.
Lydia’s face turned thundery in annoyance at the arrival of the Marquess of Sutherland.
“You disappeared so quickly I thought I’d lost you both,” Sutherland continued, deliberately ignoring Lydia’s unwelcoming glare as he handed both her and Aurelia glasses of lemonade. Aurelia had to wonder at the bravery of the Marquess, who was blatantly ignoring the icy looks Lady Beaufort was throwing him.
Her attention was caught - not by the arrival of the Duke, who made a bee-line for Miss Peregrine - but rather by his brother, who was standing on the edge of the crowd.
Aurelia felt her heart begin to race as it always did when she glimpsed the dark, handsome face of Sebastian Black. His eyes searched the crowd, and she stood on her tip-toes wondering if she should call out to catch his attention, when a smile stole across his face.
He had found who he was looking for.
The only problem being it was not Aurelia, or even his cousin, but rather a buxom red-haired woman that Aurelia had seen perform in numerous plays.
An actress. Of course a man like Sebastian, who sailed to China and ran gaming hells, would be interested in an actress and not a dullard like her. Aurelia watched with weak knees, as Sebastian bent his head close and whispered something in his young companion’s ear. Whatever he had said was evidently hilarious, for the young woman teasingly whacked his arm with her closed fan, in a gesture that suggested a warm familiarity between the two.
“Shall we return to the box?” Aurelia asked, turning her back on the spectacle of Sebastian and his paramour. She did not wish to analyse the the feelings which were threatening to overwhelm her. Instead she took the Duke’s arm and allowed him escort her back towards their seats, and focused instead on the snipping back and forth between Lydia and the Marquess, who tailed them.
If she had taken a moment to name what she was feeling, it wouldn’t have taken her long to realise, that what was threatening overwhelm her was jealousy.
“Pretend to say something funny.”
“What are you up to now?” Sebastian asked, affectionately amused as he leaned in to speak into Kitty Marnell’s ear, so that she could hear him over the din of the crowd.
“Oh stop you’re too funny!” Kitty trilled loudly in response, thwacking him on the arm with her closed fan. Her eyes were not on Sebastian however, but rather a figure across the room; Kitty was obviously attempting to make one of her many admirers jealous. Sebastian refrained from rolling his eyes.
“I wanted to ask about your neighbour Mrs. Baker,” he said, attempting to draw Kitty’s attention back towards him and not her next victim. Sebastian’s men had been following Lord Epsom day and night since the incident in Boodle’s, but their target had proved a rather boring mark to trail. That is until the night before, when he had been spotted entering the home of a Mrs. Pauline Baker in Kensington, Kitty’s next door neighbour.
“Mrs. B?” Kitty’s eyebrows shot up to heaven; “She’s not looking for credit at Nuit Noire, is she?”.
“No,” Sebastian responded with a chuckle; “A man I’m interested in paid her a night-time call, and I was wondering why.”
“Well perhaps she’s his mistress?” Kitty responded tartly, whacking him - much harder this time - again with her fan.
“Some men are fond of a woman with a bit of life experience,” Kitty continued; “They actually like to speak to women and not just oogle them.”
Kitty had a life time of experience of men oogling her. Even as a young child, when she had led a gang of pickpockets in St. Giles’ she had been beautiful. Her looks had led her to a career as an actress, and she now made her fortune by stealing men’s hearts and exploiting their desire for her, in the shape of diamonds and jewels. Sebastian felt like her protective older brother, and she was one of the few people from his earlier years that had crossed over into the new world he now inhabited.
The crowd began to move, as the gas lights dimmed to signal that the second half of the play was about to begin. Sebastian’s attention was caught by a ridiculous ostrich feather topped turban, underneath which, he realised, was his cousin Lydia. Gabriel walked beside her, and in front of them was Aurelia, her arm linked through his brother’s.
Sebastian felt his stomach drop as he watched them; Aurelia looked demure beside Michael, every inch a Duchess. She turned her face to look up at the towering Duke of Blackmore as he spoke, and Sebastian felt his heart break all over again.
“She’s a lovely old soul,” Kitty continued to discuss Mrs. Baker, unaware that Sebastian’s attention was elsewhere; “Her son was injured in the war, but he does odd jobs and works in the garden. He’s quite handsome actually…Are you listening Sebastian?”
Kitty wore an expression of exasperation as she realised that Sebastian’s focus was elsewhere.
“Honestly it’s like speaking to a wall,” she said, whacking him again with her fan. The foyer was now almost deserted and Sebastian offered Kitty his arm to escort her back to her box, where a noted poet was waiting for her.
“If I have to hear another sonnet about my flame-red hair I shall tear it out altogether!” Kitty said with a sigh.
“I suppose someone has to suffer for his art,” Sebastian replied gamely. The box was filled with Kitty’s usual assortment of friends -the artistic bohemian types -including the pale, insipid looking poet Thomas Hughes.
“He’s set to inherit half of Lancashire,” Kitty whispered, noting Sebastian’s raised eyebrows as he took in the weedy looking man.
“What do you care for half of Lancashire when you’ve never even left London?” Sebastian responde
d quietly as the lights dimmed.
The second act of The King’s Proxy was unfolding on the stage below, but Sebastian’s gaze was focused to the left of the stage where he could see Aurelia seated beside his brother. The couple were attracting curious glances from the audience below as well as from him, and the next days papers were sure to be filled with gossip about them. A single Duke was always a cause for gossip. It was ridiculous - as Sebastian had been the one to suggest that the Duke lend the influence of his title to Miss St. Claire - but a jealous anger burned in his stomach at the thought that Aurelia’s name would now be interlinked with Michael’s and not his own.
As he watched them it seemed like he was seeing everything he wanted but could not have, and the same feelings which had plagued him in Eton resurfaced. He was not one of them and he never would be. The beautiful, ladylike Aurelia St. Claire would never be interested in a street Arab like him.
Nothing less than a viscountess.
“Are you alright?” Kitty hissed, her expression alarmed; “You’ve gone terribly pale.”
“Just a touch of indigestion,” Sebastian replied; “Would you mind terribly if I left? I don’t want to leave you at the mercy of Hughes…”
“That milk-sop?” the actress gave a rather unladylike snort of derision behind her fan; “You are talking to a St. Giles’ girl now Sebastian, not one of your St. James’ Ladies. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”
“Well best of luck securing half of Lancashire,” Sebastian said by way of goodbye.
“Oh, actually I’ve decided that I don’t care for the countryside,” Kitty responded with a wicked grin, waving her fan at him as he left.
If only Sebastian could change his mind about Aurelia St. Claire as quickly and as easily.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
.
Sarah,the maid who had woken Aurelia on her first morning in Lord Sutherland’s home, woke her the morning after her trip to the Theatre Royal.
The Duke's Brother Page 8