Nodding in the direction of Wilsden’s pistol, Sebastian had Hodges place it a short distance away from its owner. Helping Abbey to her feet he swept her into his arms, pausing to speak to Wilsden in a barely audible undertone she couldn’t have heard.
“You have one chance to take the honourable way out,” he said, “and save the rest of your family from sharing in your disgrace.”
He swept Abbey from the floor and carried her outside, leaving Hodges standing guard over the folly in case Wilsden attempted to escape. He loaded Abbey into the curricle and had driven it half way back to the lodge when a shot rent the air. Abbey, still suffering from the combined effects of disappointment and delayed shock, seemed too subdued to ask what it implied.
But Sebastian knew and his jaw tightened with grim satisfaction. Wilsden had saved both families from censure by putting a bullet through his own head.
Chapter Nineteen
The rest of the day passed in a frenzy of activity. Sebastian’s first priority was to deliver Abbey safely into Sally’s care. He and Lord Bevan then dealt with the local magistrate. Using their combined influence they were able to have Wilsden’s death recorded as misadventure—a tragic accident that had occurred while cleaning his gun—thereby sparing Wilsden’s family from having their lives tainted by the stigma of suicide. The magistrate didn’t think to ask why he would clean his gun in the folly, saving Sebastian and Lord Bevan from some awkward questions.
“Do you suppose Wilsden would have succeeded in assuming the dukedom?” Bevan asked, regarding Sebastian contemplatively from a chair in front of his library fire.
“It’s difficult for me to offer an opinion because I cannot recall another situation quite like this one. In the event of Abbey’s demise no one would have a solid claim, perhaps with the exception of your son Tobias.”
“He would never dream of—”
“I’m aware of that and so, I suspect, was Wilsden. But even if Tobias did claim to be the closest male relative to the late duke, it could take years of legal wrangling before the matter was resolved.”
“Leaving Wilsden with his hands on the coffers until it was settled.”
“Precisely.”
Bevan frowned. “But if the title became extant, wouldn’t the prince be more likely to leave it that way and keep the spoils for himself?”
Sebastian offered up a sardonic smile. “It’s no secret that Prinny’s permanently in deep, so it would be a great temptation for him to absorb such a rich prize as Penrith into his own depleted coffers. But Wilsden was right to suggest a permanent presence would be necessary to keep that area of the West Country under control. Wilsden was clever. He had set himself up as the obvious claimant, both through his unquestionable loyalty to the prince and by establishing himself as a figure of authority in the eyes of the locals.”
“Hmm, and I made it easy for him by agreeing to him taking over the running of the Penrith estate.” Bevan expelled an angry breath. “What a fool he played me for!”
“Don’t distress yourself. You weren’t the only one taken in by him. He even managed to fool his own son, who is not quite the numbskull he makes himself out to be.”
“I have always thought Charlie’s talents went unappreciated.”
The door opened to admit a subdued but determined looking Harold. Lord Bevan stood and clasped his son’s shoulder, Sebastian’s cue to leave father and son to discuss Harold’s problems in private. He already knew Harold was resolutely determined his wife would never see her children again. Instead she would live in seclusion with only the dour Miss Frobisher for company, which sounded like poetic justice to Sebastian.
Dinner that evening was a subdued affair, given the demise of Lord Wilsden, the absence of Mary and all that it implied. Desultory conversation did little to disguise the guests’ collective curiosity or the fact that they were brimming with questions they were too well bred to openly voice. Abbey was absent from dinner, too. Sebastian knew from Hodges—who’d obtained his information from Sally—she had partaken of a light supper and was now sleeping, thanks to a draught of laudanum supplied by the redoubtable Mrs. Burton.
Sebastian, gripped by a fit of the blue devils, took little part in the conversation that swirled in fits and starts around his place at the table. His mind dwelt instead upon Abbey and the havoc she had wreaked in his well-ordered life. Well, that was about to come to an end. He had done what he came here to do and tomorrow, as soon as he had attended to his remaining business with the magistrate, there was no reason why he and Hodges shouldn’t be on their way.
It was the only sensible thing to do. To put as much distance between himself and Abbey as possible was now his highest priority. He could then look forward to the resumption of his former ways and forget all about compelling silver eyes which had the uncanny knack of intruding upon his sub-conscious when he least expect it. Sometimes those eyes regarded him with unqualified trust, at others they mocked him or danced with mischief as their owner shed her inhibitions and wheedled her way into his arms.
It was unthinkable that a man of his age should have fallen in love at last.
Love? Sebastian sat a little straighter, shocked by the turn his thoughts had taken. Was that the name of the ailment that had beset him? He, one of the ton’s most wizened cynics, had never believed in its existence before. Now a mere child appeared to have put him right without even having the decency to apologise for the turmoil she was causing him.
Resuming his seat as the last of the ladies left the dining-room, Sebastian filled his port glass to the brim and drained it in one. Then he filled it again. He wouldn’t see Abbey before he left, he vowed with determination. In spite of her temporary fit of rebellion, Sebastian knew she was dutiful and would be disinclined to do anything to overset her uncle.
Sebastian managed a mirthless smile as he imagined what Lord Bevan would have to say if he declared himself to Abbey. She, out of some sense of misplaced loyalty, would most likely accept him and all her uncle’s good work would be undone. He wouldn’t be best pleased if she settled upon a dissipate who was old enough—well almost—to be her father, so it would better if she never knew the true nature of his feelings. Then she could enjoy her season and marry the much approved of Evans at the end of it all, damn the man’s eyes!
Jealousy twisted Sebastian’s insides like a vicious vice at the very thought, causing him to reach for the decanter for a third time. He must stand firm, for her sake as much as his own. Obviously this was a temporary obsession, the inevitable result of their being thrown together so much over the past few days. He would recover as soon as he was nowhere near her. He thought of Lady Redford, surprised when the bolt of desire which he was accustomed to experience didn’t shoot through him as he contemplated her delightful body. No matter. Other diversions beckoned. Maybe a reckless game of cards for high stakes would be the thing to bring him around? Unfortunately, that prospect didn’t hold much appeal either. Sebastian felt like an over-indulged child who refused to be comforted when, for once, he didn’t get his way.
Enough of this self-pity! Sebastian pushed his chair back with unnecessary force and accepted Charlie’s challenge to a game of billiards.
***
Abbey refused all of Mrs. Burton’s potions the following morning. She felt rested and much of her former strength had been restored to her. She had even discovered she could place some weight on her injured ankle. Cheered by this progress she insisted upon dressing but didn’t go down to breakfast. She wasn’t up to facing the collective concern of her family and guests. Doubtless the ladies would call upon her individually and she felt better equipped to receive them in smaller numbers.
Aunt Constance was the first to bear her company, crying with relief when she observed her looking, as she put it, more like her old self again. Beatrice expressed grave concerns at her disinclination to confide in them, but otherwise was more interested in how she had managed to make contact with Lord Denver in the first place. With her aunt pre
sent Abbey couldn’t tell the truth and, crossing her fingers behind her back, implied she had written to beg his assistance.
Harold brought his daughters in to see her and to say his own goodbyes. The girls lightened the mood considerably with their chatter. They had no notion what had occurred and didn’t mention not having seen their mother that morning. They seemed more excited because they were to remain here without Miss Frobisher to keep them in order. Harold was to escort his wife and their governess to their new home—a small, secluded country house that formed part of Lord Bevan’s estate. Abbey kissed Harold fondly and wished him luck. She did not imagine he would take much pleasure from the long journey ahead of him.
The door opened again just after the last of the ladies had left her, causing Abbey’s head to swivel in eager expectation for at least the tenth time that morning. Surely it would be him this time? He must come to her soon. There was unfinished business between them.
But it was Lord Evans who bowed before her, leaving Abbey struggling to hide her disappointment.
“I rejoice to see you looking better,” he said, raising her hand to his lips.
“I am fully recovered, thank you.” She indicated the chair next to hers. “Please be seated.”
“You are being too hasty and not paying proper heed to your health.”
“Not in the least. I am even able to place some weight upon my ankle again,” she said, standing to prove her point and almost toppling over. Lord Evans jumped up to steady her and helped her back to her seat. “Perhaps I should ask Sally to procure a stick for me,” she conceded, biting her lip in frustration.
“It might be wiser to avoid standing until you are completely recovered.”
“I’m tired of being wise,” she said peevishly.
An uncomfortable silence ensued, which Lord Evans eventually broke. “I have lost you,” he said starkly.
“Lord Evans, I don’t think—”
He took tight possession of her hand. “I know this isn’t a suitable time but I think it best we discuss this now, for we will never have another opportunity.” He drew in a deep breath. “You would have settled for me, had it not been for this unfortunate business, and I would have devoted my life to making you happy.”
Abbey couldn’t look at him. “You assume too much,” she said.
“I think we would have done well together,” he continued, ignoring her protest. “But I know now you won’t have me. I observed the way you looked at Denver with such complete faith brimming from your eyes, you see, even when you had just received such dreadful information about those whom you trusted. That is when I finally accepted the truth.”
“Please, Lord Evans—”
He dropped her hand and walked about the room. “If I had but once observed that expression on your countenance when addressing me I would never give up on you.” He smiled briefly but the gesture didn’t trouble his eyes. “In fact, I would sacrifice ten years of my life if I could see it now. Just once.” He shook his head. “But I know I never will and I care for you too much to see you unhappy. And so I’m giving up any claims upon your affections which I dared to assume.”
Abbey was quite overcome and it was some moments before she could find her voice. “Sir, I don’t know quite what to say to you other than you have quite mistaken the nature of the relationship between myself and the gentleman we are discussing.”
Lord Evans halted her flow of words with a wave of his hand. “Even if I hadn’t seen the proof with my own eyes, it would have been apparent anyway in that you went to a stranger with your concerns, rather than trusting them to me. You must have known I couldn’t have been responsible for the attacks. I would never harm a hair on your head and would have done everything in my power to save you from danger.” He smiled at her, preventing her from interrupting. “Best to say nothing, m’dear. I merely came to say goodbye and wish you well. I shall be gone within the hour.” He kissed her hand again and moved towards the door. “Oh, and one more thing, in case you were not aware, Denver also plans to depart this morning.”
Abbey stared at the closing door, too dumfounded to speak. Her respect for Lord Evans, and the sacrifice he had just made when he clearly felt deeply for her, struck her to the core. But, to her shame, that wasn’t what occupied her thoughts. She had spent most of the night when her watchers had supposed her to be enjoying a drug-induced sleep wondering how to handle her next interview with Sebastian. She had spent most of this morning jumping every time the door opened in case it was him. It had never once occurred to her that he would leave without saying goodbye.
“Sally!”
Her maid scampered to her side. “Yes, my lady?”
“Please present my compliments to Lord Denver and ask him to wait upon me at his convenience.”
Abbey was so angry with Sebastian for thinking to sneak away without even bidding her farewell she wanted to scream with frustration. She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair, quietly seething, as the wait for him to respond to her summons appeared to drag on interminably.
“You did deliver my message?” she asked for the third time.
“I told Mr. Hodges, my lady.”
“Are you sure you didn’t get so carried away talking to him that you forgot?”
“My lady!”
Abbey sighed. “Sorry, Sally. I am a nervous wreck today. Ignore me.”
Abbey continued with her drumming as she attempted to arrange her disjoined thoughts into some semblance of order. Not that there was much to arrange. It was all very simple really. Having a season and being feted by the denizens of the haute ton suddenly seemed like a pointless and disagreeable means of marking time. She no longer had any need to present herself for inspection by suitable husbands because she knew, with a blinding certainly that left not the slightest room for doubt, that she had already met the only man who was ever likely to excite her passions. The man she would readily entrust with the precious gift of the Penrith estate. The only man worthy of siring the next Duke of Penrith.
Paradoxically, the gentleman in question appeared to have not the slightest interest in fulfilling that role.
“We will soon see about that,” she declared to her dogs. They flapped their tails in lazy encouragement and resumed snoozing.
An agonising half-an-hour later a knock sounded at the door. He was here at last! With a calmness of expression that belied her agitated emotions Abbey waited for Sally to show him in. And then he stood before her, resplendent in a superfine coat of dark blue, unsmiling and somehow rather forbidding. His severe expression was at complete variance to her expectations and for a brief moment her confidence waivered. She had managed to convince herself he must be in love with her as well, which was why he was seeking to avoid her. Suddenly the idea seemed presumptuous and rather ridiculous. Why would such a sophisticate have any interest in her? He had called her a child often enough. Presumably that was how he looked upon her.
He was dressed for the road and had she not summoned him, he really would have left without seeing her again. The realisation was both defeating and a timely boost to her failing courage. Why avoid her if he had nothing to fear from her? He was only beneath her roof because she had invited him. It was the height of bad manners to leave without saying goodbye. Sebastian Denver was many things but bad mannered wasn’t one of them.
Abbey straightened her shoulders and addressed her maid in a tone that conveyed a confidence she didn’t altogether feel.
“Thank you, Sally, you may leave us.”
Sally’s eyebrows shot skywards and a beatific smile graced her lips. Sally was as taken with Mr. Hodges as she herself was with Sebastian. Her maid must be feeling bereft at the thought of permanent separation from the object of her desire. Well then, Abbey had a duty to save Sally’s heart as well as her own.
“Very good, my lady. I shall be in the next room should you have need of me,” she said, bobbing a curtsey before closing the door firmly behind her.
“I am rejoiced t
o see you looking recovered.”
Sebastian swished the tails of his coat aside and seated himself beside her without making any attempt to touch her. He didn’t even take her proffered hand, appearing not to notice it as he arranged his coat tails with far greater attention to detail than this tiny ritual usually warranted.
“You are leaving?”
“Indeed,” he replied, not meeting her eye. “My work here is done. I was waiting only to assist your uncle with the magistrate’s enquiries before setting out.”
“I see.” And she did, far too clearly for her liking. “Are you so anxious to resume your other activities that you couldn’t even spare the time to take your leave of me?”
“I understood you were still resting and didn’t want to intrude upon your privacy.”
Abbey knew he was shamming it. His eyes were restlessly searching the walls with single-minded determination not to meet her gaze. Perversely this display of indifference offered her a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he did harbour feelings for her—feelings he was seeking to deny. Abbey decided to put her theory to the test.
“I didn’t take you for a coward, Lord Denver.”
That got his attention. No one, not even a lady, was likely to brand the infamous Lord Denver a coward and get away with it. Sure enough, for the first time since entering the room his gaze collided with hers. And locked onto it. Glorious sensation rippled through her as his smouldering gaze hinted at his own emotional turmoil.
“I wonder why you would make such a suggestion,” he said languidly, looking away from her again.
She pretended surprise. “Why, surely you have not forgotten? We made a bargain, you and I, and you have yet to collect your final payment for the service you rendered me.’
Sebastian appeared confused but she was watching him closely and was able to gauge the exact moment when her meaning registered with him. He was ruffled out of his complacent attitude and, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, appeared to find something to fascinate his interest in the picture on the wall above Abbey’s head.
The Duke's Legacy Page 22