The Duke's Legacy

by Wendy Soliman

  “Shame you can’t stay and join us, Denver,” Lord Wilsden said affably.

  “Doubtless you’re anxious to be on your way now that the roads are passable,” Evans added.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Evans,” Sebastian replied, “but I’ve decided to accept Lady Abigail’s invitation and extend my stay.”

  “What!” Evans choked on his coffee, spilling it over his coat.

  The rest of the gentlemen expressed their surprise. Sebastian watched them carefully, but only Evans showed any outward signs of anger.

  “I expect Lady Abigail was just being polite,” Sir Michael said to Evans in what was probably supposed to be a supportive aside. “You know how kind-hearted she can be.”

  “Why don’t you put Warrior through his paces on the hunting field, then?” Charlie asked.

  “Now that would hardly be gentlemanly,” Sebastian said, stifling a yawn. “The lady’s asked me to stay, and since she’s incapacitated the very least I can do is my humble best to entertain her. Don’t suppose the task will be too arduous,” he added in a velvety smooth voice, drawing a bark of laughter from Charlie.

  Evans looked as though he might explode with anger and as soon as Lord Bevan rose from the table, saying he didn’t intend to hunt today either, Evans stood also.

  “A word, if I may,” Evans said, putting aside his napkin and following his host from the room.

  Raised voices could be heard emanating from the library. Evans emerged ten minutes later, his face puce with rage.

  “Wonder what that was all about,” Sebastian said to no one in particular. “Enjoy the day’s sport,” he added when Charlie pushed his chair back and readied himself to leave.

  Once the huntsmen had departed, Sebastian sauntered off in search of Hodges. He discovered him polishing Sebastian’s boots.

  “Any luck with Miss Frobisher?” he asked.

  Hodges appeared affronted by Sebastian’s question. “She’s just like all the others deep down. A few words of flattery, listen like you’re interested to her endless list of complaints about her charges and she would have told me anything I wanted to know.” Hodges’s smug expression gave way to a grimace. “But don’t ask me to go near here again, m’lord, ’cause I won’t do it, not even for Lady Abigail. And, what’s more, Sally’s overset ’cause she saw me making up to the old witch and so I’ve queered my pitch with her an’ all.”

  “Did you learn anything to make the sacrifice worthwhile?” Sebastian asked, failing to show much sympathy for Hodges’s romantic farrago.

  “You were right. It was Mary Bevan who told her Lady Abigail wanted to see Ellen. Miss Frobisher was all for saying no but her mistress was in one of her uncompromising moods and apparently there’s no arguing with her when she gets like that.”

  “I can well imagine.”

  “Hmm, well…”

  Sebastian’s theory had just been proven beyond any doubt, at least as far as Mary Bevan was concerned. It was too great a stretch of the imagination to suppose it could be a coincidence. That someone else had loosened the heel and Mary just happened to send her youngest daughter to see her aunt and a time when she was bound to delay her.

  “Right, Hodges. We now know the identity of one of the people we need to keep a close watch on. On no account must she be allowed to get close to Lady Abigail again, especially when she’s alone.”

  “But what of the other blaggard?”

  “What indeed? All of the evidence still points to Charlie but…oh, I don’t know why but somehow I just can’t see him having the guile or the nerve to carry it through.”

  Sebastian cursed his inability to fathom the logic behind the attacks on Abbey. There were only a few suspects so it shouldn’t be so very difficult to work it out. Unfortunately, Sebastian’s admiration for the lady he had been charged to protect was a constant source of distraction preventing him from thinking the matter through with his usual detached lucidity. That was hardly the best way to be of service to her and he adjured himself to keep his mind focused on his reason for being with her. He had already failed to prevent one near-fatal attack and was damned if he would be found wanting for a second time.

  “Well, I must away and entertain Lady Abigail,” Sebastian told Hodges. “Keep me informed of events below stairs.”

  “How come you get all the best jobs?” Hodges asked with a twisted grin. “You get Lady Abigail and I get the Frobisher witch. It don’t seem fair.”

  Sebastian was still laughing when he knocked at Abbey’s door.

  He was admitted by a blushing but subdued Sally, who appeared to have been crying. Sebastian paused to whisper something in her ear, which made her blush even more deeply. But she also brightened visibly. Abbey was fully dressed and reclining upon the settee in her anti-room. It was the same one Sebastian had carried her to the previous day and afforded her a fine view of the barren winter gardens, still covered with snow in places. Her injured leg was again supported by an abundance of cushions, her gown pulled down to cover the affected area. Her dogs were slumbering on the rug, eyes occasionally opening to rest covetously upon the plate of sweetmeats at her side. Sally picked up the sewing which had presumably occupied her before Sebastian’s arrival. With another brief curtsey and beaming smile she moved to another chair a discreet distance away.

  “Good morning,” Sebastian said.

  The dogs roused themselves and allowed their ears to be tickled. Their tails thumped against the rug but they soon lost interest in Sebastian when they discovered there was nothing edible in his pockets. After turning in several tight circles, jockeying for the best position, they settled down to resume their slumbers.

  “Good morning,” Abbey replied.

  “How is your ankle?”

  “A little less sore today.”

  “I am pleased to hear it.”

  She beckoned him closer. “What did you say to Sally just now to cheer her up? She’s been miserable the whole morning but wouldn’t say what was wrong.”

  Sebastian laughed. “Hodges had been making himself agreeable to Miss Frobisher on my specific orders. I don’t think that found favour with your maid.”

  “Ah, I see.” She offered Sebastian a captivating smile that went straight to his groin. “Not that I approve of their relationship exactly, but still, I am glad she’s no longer Friday-faced.”

  “I live to serve,” Sebastian replied with a mocking smile.

  Abbey wagged a figure beneath his nose. “Your coachman took deliberate advantage of poor Sally.” When Sebastian merely smiled and made no comment, he sensed Abbey’s indignation increasing. “He seduced her!”

  “Perhaps he did, but have you stopped to consider she may have wished to be seduced, and might have enjoyed the experience?”

  ***

  Abbey felt herself blushing, wondering what madness had made her start this conversation? He had just pointed out what could so easily have happened in the garden between them yesterday—well, she was almost sure it could have if Sebastian hadn’t been the one to show restraint. All the same, she didn’t think it was very gentlemanly of him to point it out, even if she was the one to raise the indelicate subject of seductions.

  “Hodges doesn’t force his attentions where they’re not welcome,” Sebastian said.

  “Ha, so you admit it then! He makes a habit of this sort of thing, which only adds to his culpability.” She threw him a disapproving look. “Like master, like servant, no doubt.”

  He laughed. “Very possibly. You already know what a hopeless case I am.” He shrugged. “I am surprised I’m still admitted to polite society.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do I get the impression you’re manipulating me in some way?”

  “You wound me, Lady Abigail.” She bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing at his woebegone expression. “Here I am, doing my humble best to make myself agreeable and concur with everything you say, and yet you don’t seem to believe me.” He spread his hands. “I can already see y
ou are going to be a very difficult patient to entertain.”

  “Very likely. Patience isn’t a word that has a place in my vocabulary, you see. If I want something, then I want it straight away.” She shrugged. “It is just the way I’m made, unfortunately.”

  “There’s nothing unfortunate about the way you’re made.”

  He took her hand and ran his fingers slowly down the length of hers. His almost casual, featherlike touch sent spangles of pleasure cascading through her with devastating consequences for her equilibrium. She had spent most of the night disciplining herself to remain indifferent to whatever ploys he decided upon to dupe the rest of their party into believing an amatory interest had sprung up between them. Failing so spectacularly at the first hurdle was most discouraging. Determined not to permit him to see just how easily he could arouse her passions, Abbey snatched her hand away. Sebastian recaptured it, holding it too firmly for her to break free a second time.

  “You seem to have forgotten we are on the brink of becoming lovers,” he whispered, his voice a velvety caress as his lips almost brushed her ear.

  “We are only pretending,” she replied, trying for a quelling glance that probably wasn’t very convincing.

  “Indeed we are.”

  His eyes gleamed with unsettling intelligence as they regarded her with absorbsion. Abbey’s response to the momentary longing she thought she saw in his expression registered somewhere in the most sensitive part of her core. That expression told her there was something he desired. And he was not, Abbey instinctively understood, referring to the pantomime they had agreed to enact.

  In a blinding flash she understood he had turned away from her the previous day because his passions had been as aroused as her own. A surge of triumph ripped through her. She felt empowered, ready to conquer the world. That she had managed to attract this elegant sophisticate, albeit temporarily, gave Abbey’s self-confidence a timely boost. She wasn’t foolish enough to think the attraction would endure, at least on his part. It had only happened because he was bored, or because he had no mistress conveniently at hand…whatever the reason, it supplied her with the courage to see this game through. She glanced at him and his responding smile was both pure predatory male, as though proving a point that required no further explanation.

  “Even so, we must put on a convincing show,” he said. “Whatever I do, I pride myself on doing it well.” He lifted a long curl from her shoulder and ran it through his fingers. She snatched it away from him, discomposed by his annoyingly coercive charm, against which she appeared to have few defences.

  “We are not in public now.”

  “Maybe not, but we shouldn’t waste the opportunity to practise?”

  He reached out a hand and traced the outline of her cheek. Abbey couldn’t seem to move out of range, even though she definitely wanted to. She absolutely did. Her voice also deserted her as the stimulus of his skilled fingers delicately skimming across her face caused her insides to turn summersaults. Oblivious to the presence of Sally, who had looked up from her work and was watching them with eyes agog, he progressed slowly towards her lips, brushing his fingers against them just once and then moving on to her neck. That enjoyed a more detailed examination as he slowly explored its length with a touch that threatened to scorch. His fingers barely made contact with her flesh, swirling in lazy circles before continuing upon their tantalizing quest, but Abbey reacted as though she was on fire. Bewildered, she looked at him through eyes muddied by passion, wondering how the nascent pleasure he was giving her could possibly be created by his fingertips alone.

  She didn’t want this to end but knew it must, and immediately. She couldn’t seem to move or summon her voice. His fingers moved to a new location and her eyes widened with shock. His touch, even lighter than before, traced the outline of her breast through the fabric of her gown, circling it with lazy disregard for the murmur of disapproval she managed to cobble together. His eyes were locked upon hers, smouldering with a challenge she was powerless to resist. Never before had she imaged feelings of such exquisite sensitivity existed. She had managed to convince herself that what he had made her feel in the garden yesterday had been occasioned by her own curiosity. It was impossible to continue with that lie now.

  With each touch of his fingers, scintillating thrills surged through her with a searing intensity that took her breath away. If such ambiguous ecstasy went by the name of passion then perhaps the poets had been right all along. But she had more pressing matters than poetry to occupy her mind. Somehow she must find the strength to end Sebastian’s amusements and get him to tell her what else he had learned about last night’s attack. She was sure there must be something. Why else would Hodges have cultivated Miss Forbisher’s friendship? Perhaps he was only districting her like this because he didn’t want to tell her.

  That thought should have brought Abbey to her senses, but desire overwhelmed reason and she still couldn’t find her voice. Her arms appeared to have slipped around his neck, quite without her having noticed, and she stupidly wondered who could have put them there. Her fingers were buried in the thickness of the curls spilling over his collar. She met his gaze and found herself spellbound by the close proximity of his lips. What was happening to her? All those years of training appeared to have flown out the window. Abbey was uncomfortably aware that were it not for Sally’s presence, there was no telling where this might end because ending it was quite simply beyond her.

  So much pleasure from just the simple contact of his fingers, rioting with the guilt she felt at permitting him to overstep the bounds, eventually brought her to her senses. As if emerging from a daze she blinked twice and found the courage to look into his face. She didn’t recognise what she saw there. His gaze was locked upon her features, his expression earnest and quite without artifice, which only caused the conflicting emotions within her to intensify. Drawing a ragged breath she somehow managed to find her voice.

  “Sebastian, we really shouldn’t take this too far,” she said, trying to sound unaffected and probably failing miserably.

  “Why not?” He whispered the words in her ear, his swirling tongue targeting the skin just below it, causing a fresh wave of pleasure to lance through her. “You are enjoying it and so am I.”

  “You are taking advantage of my indisposition, which isn’t very gentlemanly.”

  “Yes, I am.” His smile was entirely unrepentant.

  “Sebastian!” She tried to sound disapproving but, judging from his responding chuckle, made poor work of it. “You told me yesterday I shouldn’t—”

  “That was yesterday. Circumstances have changed. Besides, I am providing you with an opportunity to become acquainted with your passionate nature before you settle down and marry Evans. You really ought to thank me, and so should he.”

  “I’m not…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I haven’t agreed to marry Lord Evans.”

  “Not yet you haven’t, but you will.”

  “I don’t see how you can possibly know that for a certainty since I haven’t made up my mind.”

  “No, but you are so anxious to please your uncle that you will do whatever it takes to earn his respect.”

  What the devil is he trying to say to me? Can it be... “You think you know me but—”

  There was a tap on the door. By the time Sally had opened it to admit Abbey’s aunt, Sebastian had resumed his seat and a respectable six feet of daylight now separated them. Abbey suspected her cheeks were still flushed. Her heart was definitely beating at twice its normal rate. Hopefully Aunt Constance wouldn’t notice and ask awkward questions.

  “Abby my dear.”

  “Good morning, aunt.” Abbey lifted her face to receive her aunt’s kiss.

  Aunt Constance greeted Sebastian warmly as he stood up and bowed over her hand.

  “Lady Bevan,” he said.

  “And good morning to you, Lord Denver. Thank you for keeping my niece company.”

  “It is entirely my pleasure.�
��

  Aunt Constance seated herself, not seeming to think there was anything untoward about Sebastian being virtually alone with Abbey.

  “How are you today, darling?” she asked Abbey. “How does your poor ankle feel?”

  “A little better, thank you, Aunt.” Abbey wondered how her voice could sound so normal after Sebastian had reduced her to a hopelessly confused mixture of frustration and guilt. “Mrs. Burton’s herbs have worked their usual magic and I already feel much more comfortable.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Nothing, thank you.” Except for the removal of an unconscionable rogue who makes my pulse race and causes me to forget who I’m supposed to be. “I have everything I need.”

  The door opened again to admit Beatrice. Perversely, Abbey was now unsure whether she was glad of the reinforcements or regretted not having the opportunity to submit to just a little more of Sebastian’s tutelage. Be that as it may, she greeted Bea warmly and answered the same questions as her aunt had just asked her.

  “Well, my dear,” Aunt Constance said after half an hour. “If you’re quite comfortable then I ought to see Mrs. Burton about the menus.”

  She kissed Abbey again and Sebastian stood to open the door for her.

  “I have no pressing engagements,” Beatrice whispered as Sebastian showed her aunt out. “But if you would prefer me to leave you alone with—”

  “Don’t you dare!” Please leave.

  Beatrice smiled, as though able to read Abbey’s mind, and remained where she was. A pack of cards was produced and when Mary put her face around the door an hour later, she was greeted with howls of laughter. Sebastian was teaching the girls how to cheat at piquet. Abbey was rather proud with the speed at which she had mastered the art of dealing from the bottom of the pack.

  Mary hovered for a moment or two but when she wasn’t invited to join the game she used her children an excuse to leave again. Abbey could see that Sebastian was observing her closely, while not appearing to take more than the mildest interest in her. She was reminded then that she hadn’t yet asked him what discoveries Mr. Hodges had made. With Bea in attendance she still couldn’t do so, which was presumably his intention when instigating the game, the wretched man!