by Jane Ashford
There was no sign that he found her sister’s statements unacceptable. Indeed, he’d shown very little reaction to any of her family’s behavior. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t having them. Georgina sighed. Life would be so much easier if one could read thoughts, or at least understand them clearly from facial expressions.
Sebastian was feeling uncomfortable. It wasn’t the plain speaking in itself. He didn’t mind bluntness. On the contrary, he often appreciated it. You knew where you were with people who said what they meant. It was the subject matter in this case—Georgina’s fortune, and the undeniable fact that he’d begun his pursuit of her because of it. He’d been determined to snag a rich wife. Life as a duke’s son was so much easier with a bit of money.
There was nothing wrong with that point of view, he told himself. All his brothers had the same concern. Well, except Nathaniel. He was the heir; all the ducal riches would be coming to him through the entail. It was the way of the world that the eldest son inherited. Sebastian understood that. You couldn’t be chopping up an estate among the offspring in every generation. Very soon there would be nothing left of a grand heritage. And Nathaniel was a good egg, always ready to help out. The rest of them were left to provide for themselves, however, if they wished for more than their bare allowances and their oldest brother’s charity.
James had a lump of prize money from his naval successes during the war. Sebastian didn’t know the exact sum, but he understood it was enough to make his brother comfortable for life. Unfortunately, such largesse wasn’t open to army officers. Their engagements yielded no conquered ships to tow back to friendly harbors and redeem. And Sebastian knew he was unlikely to rise further in rank. He would not be a colonel and command a regiment. His superiors liked him, but they’d taken the measure of his limits. Not that military pay was any great thing, no matter how high the level.
As for his other brothers, Alan had made money through some inventions that Sebastian didn’t understand, and he’d settled on a relatively frugal existence in Oxford as well. Robert had been left a bit by his godfather, but he led quite an expensive life among the haut ton. Randolph had his living and expected to advance in the church, but he certainly wouldn’t mind marrying money. It was no wonder, and no shame, that Sebastian had thanked his lucky stars when Georgina, with her fortune, accepted him.
As he came to know her better, though, he’d felt the urge to tell her that he valued the match for other reasons. More all the time, as a matter of fact. It was just deucedly difficult to begin such a conversation, and to go on without sounding like a coxcomb. It was the sort of thing a sneaking flatterer would say. And what if she asked whether he would’ve offered for her if she hadn’t had money?
Although he couldn’t now imagine marrying anyone else, he most likely wouldn’t have. Well, he wouldn’t have become well acquainted with her, would he? If not for the fortune waiting in the wings? She’d have been just another of the throng of debs vying for attention in a crowded season. He wouldn’t have known to single her out.
Sebastian suffered a sudden shiver of apprehension. In that case, he’d never have discovered Georgina’s sharp intelligence and quick kindness and delectable ardor. Which would have been a tragedy as great as any Sykes might want to portray in a theater. But then, he wouldn’t have realized he’d missed them, Sebastian thought. He’d have passed her, unheeding, in crowded ballrooms and at stuffy evening parties. They both would have gone on to other lives with other people. The prospect was dire, but it wouldn’t have been, because he would have been ignorant of her charms.
Feeling more than usually conscious of his dimness in this moment, his thoughts twisted into a damnable tangle, Sebastian gave up. He’d discovered long ago that it was better to remain silent than to flounder in a mire of words. Why demonstrate one’s failings for all to see? He wouldn’t get his point across, if he even knew what it was, and he’d be exposed as a dolt. He’d just have to find some other way to show Georgina that he valued her for herself, he decided. If only a bit of deft saber work or riding neck or nothing over rough country would convey the message, he’d be set.
“So is it?” said Hilda.
Realizing that she was addressing him, but with no idea of the topic, Sebastian summoned his very best smile. He’d found it a defense and a refuge when he’d lost track of a conversation or couldn’t find the right words to contribute, particularly where females were concerned.
All three Stane sisters blinked as if dazzled by a sudden light.
A diversionary tactic gave you room to maneuver, Sebastian thought. But it had to be followed up with an effective offense. “What’s that over there?” he asked.
“What?” Hilda and Georgina asked in the same moment. Emma turned to gaze in the direction he’d indicated.
It was nothing but more of Offa’s long dyke, but Sebastian continued the ruse by spurring over and examining the earthwork as if he’d spotted some interesting feature. The others followed, and Hilda’s question, whatever it had been, was lost. After that, Sebastian indulged Whitefoot in a good gallop that swept the cobwebs from both of their heads.
The next few days passed in the same sort of activities. When he wasn’t concealing his limited grasp of the marquess’s historical references or being pestered by Georgina’s sisters or her mother’s dogs, Sebastian grew a bit bored. He took Whitefoot out for a solid bout of exercise each day and walked in the gardens. The scraps of time he snatched with Georgina were tantalizing, and somewhat constrained. The latter worried him a good deal, but there never seemed to be an opportunity to find out the reason.
As he strolled into the shrubbery near the ancient tower on the tenth day of his visit, Sebastian heard footsteps ahead and sped up, hoping to see the lissome figure of his fiancée. Instead, he came upon Mr. Mitra, who started at Sebastian’s sudden appearance. “Ah, the young lord,” the other man said as they nodded a greeting. He made a rueful gesture. “Before this, I savored the rustle of leaves in the wind. Now, I jump like a rabbit at the sound, fearing it heralds a pack of small dogs. This is a melancholy change.”
“I don’t think they’re allowed in this part of the garden,” Sebastian said.
“Not alone. But our hostess brings them when she walks here. And if she sees me enter, she is often moved to walk. With all of her dogs.”
“You think she doesn’t like you?” Sebastian had gathered this much from some of the Indian gentleman’s previous comments.
His companion shrugged. “As to that, I do not know. I believe she finds my visit…irritating. She does not appreciate her husband’s new studies. I would depart, of course. But the marquess insists I stay. It is most awkward. Particularly when our host is occupied on the business of his lands, as today.”
“What about we take a stroll together,” Sebastian suggested. “If the pugs show up, I’ll keep them off you. And if Georgina’s sisters come hunting me, you’ll distract them.”
Mr. Mitra’s chiseled features relaxed in a smile. “A splendid bargain. I accept.”
The two men ambled along the sheltered path together. The day was overcast, with a sharp wind, and they were glad of the thick bushes on both sides. “How did you come to be acquainted with Stane in the first place?” Sebastian asked after a while.
“He read some of my writings,” Mitra replied. “Or rather, Miss Byngham did, I think. A fellow at the University of Cambridge has translated three of my books into English. After that, his lordship wrote to me. We corresponded for some time. When he then invited me to visit, I could not resist the chance to see the home of the race that has so efficiently…insinuated themselves into our lands.”
“Insinuated?”
“You are right,” said his companion. “It is a paltry word for conquerors.”
Here was another character with an oblique way of talking, Sebastian thought. There were far too many of them in the world. He didn’t attempt a dire
ct answer. “I suppose you’re missing your home,” he said instead.
This earned him a warm look. “You are the only one who has said this to me. The rest seem to assume that everything is better here than in Bengal, and so I must long to remain.”
“Bengal?”
“You are not familiar with the lands your East India Company has… Perhaps I had better not say overrun?” Mitra raised dark brows.
“I was never much of a hand at geography,” Sebastian answered. The other man’s evaluating expression reminded him of schoolmasters, and a memory caught him. He and two brothers bent over a multicolored globe covered with tiny words; the letters seemed to swim before his eyes as if they were fish in the blue expanses of the pictured oceans. And just as slippery. “Part of India, isn’t it?” he ventured.
Mr. Mitra cocked his head and gazed at him, then smiled slightly. “I miss my family a great deal,” he said, as if the question of locales had never arisen. “And I am accustomed to a more…lively society than I have met here. However, I understand that some neighbors are invited to dine with us tomorrow night.”
“Really?” Sebastian hadn’t heard this, but he’d been out riding all morning.
“Indeed. It is the first such occasion since I arrived at this place. I am told that the long distance between estates in this province makes visiting difficult.” He gave Sebastian a sidelong glance. “I suspect that our host’s activities and opinions do not endear him to other members of his caste. Because he is clearly a very sociable person.”
Sebastian thought he was right. Of course, Mr. Mitra was a visible, talkative demonstration of these eccentric views. A twinkle in the other man’s dark eyes seemed to indicate that he was well aware of this.
“On this occasion, you are the attraction, I believe.”
“Me?”
“A public introduction of the new member of their family?”
“Ah.” He’d want to make a good impression, Sebastian thought. But he’d been to a hundred of his mother’s country dinners. He’d do all right.
The sound of yapping reached their ears, and grew rapidly louder. Mitra sighed. “Alas. The hounds are loosed.”
“Not hounds,” Sebastian replied. The sound of the pugs was completely different. But perhaps as a foreigner, Mitra didn’t know that. Sebastian looked around. They had come out of the shrubbery near the ancient stone tower that anchored one end of Stane Castle, and just a few steps away, a weathered wooden door pierced its walls. Sebastian went over and tried the handle. It groaned as it moved. The hinges were equally noisy, but the old door opened. Sebastian peered inside. A narrow stone staircase twisted upward. “In here,” he commanded. “The two of us could hold off a regiment on these stairs.” He gestured for Mr. Mitra to go first. The other man hesitated, but louder yapping sent him upward, with Sebastian on his heels.
They climbed past another wooden door on the first level, and then an arched opening further up. Mitra made as if to stop, leaning on the wall and puffing, but Sebastian urged him on until they came out on a dusty, dim landing. A narrower flight of stairs clung to the opposite wall, seemingly going nowhere. “A dead end,” said the Indian gentleman.
Sebastian had spotted a trapdoor above their heads, however. He climbed the precipitous stair and pushed at the panel. It fell back, letting in a dazzling square of light. Blinking at the sudden illumination, Sebastian emerged onto a platform at the top of the tower, encircled by a chest-high parapet. Sweeping views of the countryside spread out in every direction, except where a small chamber with slitted windows sat at the southeast corner. “Come up,” he urged. “You must see this.”
With some grumbling and scraping, Mitra joined him. “Ah,” he said. “Here is a panorama.”
Sebastian kicked at one of the dry leaves scattered over the flagstones. “Here’s a hiding place,” he replied. “It doesn’t look like anyone comes up here. And no dog can get through that trapdoor if you close it.” He grinned at the other man. “I’ll help you bring up a chair, if you like. You can sit here with your books.” His fellow guest was always reading some hefty tome or other. “Outdoors, but safe from attack,” he pointed out. “Under roof if it’s wet.” He indicated the small chamber at the edge.
All in all, it was a neat little refuge. It wouldn’t do in winter, of course, but this was August and likely to be tolerably warm. Sebastian had loved finding or creating this sort of secret nook when he was a boy. The landscape at Langford was dotted with refuges he and his brothers had carved out. He still rather liked it, he found.
“You are a most unusual young man, are you not?” said Mr. Mitra.
“Me?” Sebastian shrugged. “I’m a plain fellow, a soldier.”
“To think of me in this way? And to offer your aid? I must disagree.”
For several uncomfortable moments, Sebastian felt himself closely scrutinized. He’d always disliked such examinations, feeling that his many flaws would jump out to be recognized.
“No, indeed,” said Mitra finally. “Not just a plain fellow. It is clear that you are much more than you realize at present.”
What was clear about that? Sebastian turned away from his companion’s piercing gaze. Feeling it still on his back, he walked over to the parapet and looked out over the garden. There was Georgina’s mother, with a mob of dogs, striding through the shrubbery as if on a mission. Emma and Hilda came into sight around a corner of the castle, searching one path and then another. Here was a chance to find Georgina alone inside, Sebastian realized, if he could evade their pincer movement. He plotted a course through the greenery, then took the way down two steps at a time.
“Much more than you realize,” murmured Mr. Mitra as he disappeared.
Sebastian hurried to the base of the tower and then carefully along his chosen route. It was easy to plot the position of the pugs; they were clearly audible. The younger Stanes were more elusive, and he had one close call, but he managed to make it inside without being detected. Safe behind walls, he headed for the castle’s schoolroom. He’d observed that his intended often spent a few hours there in the mornings, with her sisters and Miss Byngham. It was a measure of her cleverness. She’d told him she never tired of learning.
He opened the door quietly and saw that his earlier reconnaissance had paid off. Georgina sat in a window seat at the back of the room, gazing pensively down at the garden. A shaft of sunlight penetrating the clouds illuminated her face and gilded her golden hair. In a simple gown of white muslin sprigged with tiny violet flowers, she looked delicately beautiful. She held a book, but she wasn’t reading.
“Hullo,” said Sebastian.
Georgina jumped. The book hit the floor with a thump.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
She looked up at him, and up. His tall, masculine presence felt at once alien and…thrilling in this room where she’d spent much of her girlhood. He’d entered it as he’d entered her life, an unexpectedly exciting alteration. She’d been thinking of those broad shoulders and strong arms, of how it had felt when he lifted her off his knees. To be shifted as if she weighed less than a feather had been beguiling. But she’d been so bitterly disappointed that his hands had stopped their tantalizing progress into places that were responding now at the mere memory. Georgina flushed and stood up.
“Schoolrooms are all alike, aren’t they?” said Sebastian. “The one at Langford is just the same.”
She looked around. The long chamber was furnished with cast-off furniture, mismatched but comfortable and well able to bear rough treatment by boisterous children. A large table in the center served for study and projects. Shelves held a variety of volumes, from picture books to scientific guides, along with bits and pieces collected by Stane offspring over the years. The draperies were a bit faded. Nervous, she spun the great globe that sat on the floor beside her. For some reason, this made Sebastian flinch.
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sp; “Did you want something?” she asked, and flushed more deeply at the answering flare in his blue eyes. Something deep within her recognized it and leaped to fiery life.
“A few minutes of conversation with my betrothed,” he replied.
“About what?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just getting better acquainted, eh?”
He didn’t look satisfied with this remark, and Georgina couldn’t summon up an answer because the air seemed to have thickened around her. It couldn’t have; that wasn’t possible. But she was finding it hard to catch her breath. Silence fell over the room. Every detail of Sebastian’s handsome figure called to her—his sharp cheekbones, his dashing side-whiskers bracketing sensuous lips, his thighs in tight buckskin riding breeches. She had sat just there, across them.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t go beyond the line. Again.”
Georgina hadn’t known she could ache like this for a touch.
“What…what…were you…reading?”
He spoke as if he had to remember each word from a foreign language. Georgina followed his gaze to the book at her feet. She had no idea. And she didn’t care. She wanted only one thing, and just at this moment, she couldn’t think of one reason to resist her desires. She took a step, and another. Reaching Sebastian, she slipped her arms around him under his coat. She pressed against him—bodice, hips. She rested her head against his chest. The speed of his heartbeat under her ear reflected the pounding of hers.
He returned her embrace. For a long, delicious moment, he held her. Then one of his hands drifted up, brushing her cheek, gently raising her chin so that he could capture her mouth in a soft kiss. Soft, and then exploratory, and then searing. How could lips communicate so many nuances of emotion? How could their touch send bolts of sensation through her body?