by Diana Quincy
“What? I’m just advising him to relax and enjoy his wife.” Basil gestured toward Bella. “He’s fortunate to have her warming his bed.”
Sebastian couldn’t disagree. If only she was warming his bed. “You’re giving me advice on how to handle a wife?” he said to Basil. “You’re hardly the marrying kind.”
“I might be if there were more facsimiles of your wife around—beauties in possession of great charms and an even greater fortune. If only she had a sister.”
Sebastian’s gaze moved back to Bella. Her scandalous gown barely contained those creamy, full breasts, which quivered whenever she moved. He took a long swallow of his mineral water. Perhaps he’d go for another run later this evening.
Cam eyed him. “She is warming your bed, isn’t she?”
“That is none of your concern.”
Cam’s brows shot up in undisguised surprise while Basil whooped a laugh. “I suppose we can take that as a no.”
“Take that as you will.”
Basil’s mouth trembled with amusement. “That explains why you are in such ill humor.”
“Perhaps I should dress your hide,” Sebastian said in sharp warning. “That would restore my good temper.”
Eyes dancing, Basil leaned forward, speaking in a quieter voice. “A good strumming would do a better job of sweetening your countenance.”
“What’s the problem, Seb? Cam asked. Surely you are drawn to her.”
Basil scoffed at the question. “What red-blooded man wouldn’t be?”
Sebastian squelched another urge to cuff his youngest brother for his impertinence. “She needs time to accustom herself to her situation. As do I.”
Cam cast a look at Bella who, along with Matilda, chatted now with Charlotte and Willa. “I doubt you need the time.”
“I’ve never seen Sebastian so out of sorts.” Basil’s grin widened. “I think we’ve finally found the woman who can tempt a saint.”
…
After supper, the ladies retired to the sitting room leaving the gentlemen to their cheroots and port. Bella gradually relaxed as the evening progressed. Matilda, Charlotte, and Willa were friendly and accepting. Relishing the warmth of Sebastian’s family, she was grateful and relieved that no one mentioned her gown or treated her ill because of it.
She asked to be directed to the ladies’ refreshing room. Camryn’s townhouse was quite large and she took a wrong turn somewhere on her way returning to the parlor. Turning back, she tried to retrace her steps using the hum of conversation as her guide. Rounding a corner, she found herself in the servants’ hallway. About to turn back the way she came, Bella heard an unmistakable voice—Sebastian speaking in quiet tones that sounded almost intimate.
Curious, she followed the murmur of conversation to what appeared to be a pantry area, a large closet full of linens and silver. Sebastian stood looking in, his immense shoulders blocking out most of the view into the room. Moving closer, but still undetected, Bella could see his companion was a young servant. The girl’s face glowed with adoration as she looked up at him. She had a very pretty face, beautiful even, with large, expressive eyes and a creamy complexion.
“Lovely,” Sebastian said, followed by a string of quiet words Bella couldn’t quite make out.
The girl blushed and moved toward Sebastian but then stopped as though she felt awkward. He let out a low laugh, and pulled her toward him into a hug, brushing a light kiss on the girl’s forehead.
“No need to be coy. We know each other too well for that. Come, we haven’t much time before I’ll be missed.” He took the girl’s hand in his and led her down the narrow servants’ corridor, his large, masculine body dwarfing her delicate form.
Shocked, Bella stepped back, her shoulder hitting the edge of the wall. Her heart pounded in disbelief and she barely felt the sharp pain that cut into her skin. Sebastian and a servant in his brother’s household? There could be no other explanation for his laying hands on the girl. No one came to this area of a home except for servants. Masters and guests certainly didn’t, unless it was for a less-than-honorable purpose.
Spinning around, she stumbled back in the direction of the drawing room, every breath a painful stretch in her chest. How naive she had been. No wonder he never visited her bed. Why should he with such an exquisite servant girl at his disposal?
As she neared the salon, the murmur of conversation reached her. Forcing air into her lungs, she smoothed her skirt, straightened her spine, and did her best to appear unaffected as she rejoined the others.
Later, on the ride home, Sebastian was unusually quiet. Sitting across from him in the dark, Bella sensed his contemplative eyes on her. He’d rejoined the party about fifteen minutes after the scene in the pantry. Visions of him pulling the young girl into his arms replayed over and over in her mind. Each time it did, her anger mounted.
“You’ve made your point with that gown. Do not wear it again.”
The sense of command in his voice aggravated her distemper. He dared take that tone with her, demanding a proper wife, while he cavorted with servants? “I warn you, I cannot abide being told what to do.”
“Be that as it may, you will heed me on this.” His face was shrouded in shadows, his expression difficult to decipher, but she did not miss the rigidness in his voice. Yet, even in anger, Sebastian seemed in complete command of himself, which made her even more furious. Did the man never lose his composure?
“Fine, I will cease with this gown.” She smiled into the darkness. “After all, it is tame in comparison to the gowns I ordered from Madame de Lancy.” He stiffened in a way that made her scalp tingle. “I cannot wait for you to see me in them.”
Holding utterly still, he did not respond. Heat spread across her chest like wildfire. “I think I shall wear one when I am with Orford. He is sure to appreciate me in it.”
Sebastian surged forward out of the shadows. Her heart jumped and she instinctively shrank back against the squabs. Instead of reaching for her, his hand went to the door. That’s when she comprehended that the conveyance had halted.
“We are home,” he said in a voice that suggested he had not heard her inflammatory remarks. He helped her out and up the front stairs where a candle still burned for them. Davison greeted them with the news that her friends had departed for Vauxhall.
Uttering an uncharacteristically terse thank-you to the butler, Sebastian took Bella’s arm to escort her above stairs. His rigid posture, the intransigent set of his expansive shoulders, the very deliberate click of each boot step, all belied that otherwise calm exterior.
He was angry. Furious even.
The hair on the back of her neck tingled. She’d never seen him truly out of sorts. His demeanor brought to mind that ominous lull before a catastrophic natural disaster strikes.
He hastened his steps, practically dragging her up the stairs, pulling her arm, moving quickly. When they reached her chamber, he did not leave her as he usually did. Instead he stepped in behind her.
“Thank you, Louisa, that will be all,” he said to the sleepy girl, who’d waited up for her mistress. “Go and seek your bed.”
As soon as he closed the door behind the maid, Bella spun around to face him, her heart clamoring. “I did not give you leave to enter my bedchamber. Please show me the courtesy of departing at once.”
He pulled off his cravat and folded it in a slow, deliberate manner, as though he hadn’t heard her. Removing his tailcoat, he placed it neatly over the back of a chair.
Alarm trilled down her spine. “Why are you disrobing?”
Unbuttoning his waistcoat, he said, “Take off that dress.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He advanced toward her, the muscles in his thighs flexing powerfully as he did so. “You heard me.”
Hugging herself, she stepped back from him. “I will do no such thing. Leave or I will scream.”
Cold anger glittered in his eyes. “Take if off or I will take it off for you.”
Chapt
er Eleven
Bella froze, her heart clanged such a frantic beat, she could barely hear herself think. When she didn’t move, he reached for her.
Jumping back with a squeak of surprise, she batted his hands away. “All right, all right. I will do as you ask.” She blinked back tears. “I need my maid to help me with the buttons.”
“No need. Turn around.”
Trembling, she did as he demanded. She felt his fingers at her back making quick work of the buttons. Panic set in, robbing her of breath. The front of the dress gaped open and Bella pulled it down and stepped out of the skirt, leaving it on the floor. She straightened, clad only in her thin chemise and stays.
Snatching up the offending garment, he strode to the fire and hurled it into the flames. With a poker, he shoved the gown inside and watched for a moment as the voracious blaze devoured it. Turning to face her, his gaze flicked to her body and froze. He swallowed, the sinews moving in his throat.
The fine, thin chemise did little to hide the curve of her breasts or the delicate peaks that strained against the flimsy barrier. Some hard emotion she didn’t understand shone in the darkest part of those emerald depths—something intractable. “Take it all off.”
“What? I will not.”
“Fine.” He began to pull off his linen shirt.
The sight of Sebastian’s expansive bare chest crowded out all cogent thought. It was impossibly wide, its thick contours well defined, his arms slabs of carved muscle. All dusted with springy dark curls against smooth bronze skin. Even the hard curves of his otherwise flat belly spoke of strength.
Her mouth went dry. The sheer mass of his powerful form contrived to make him much more beautiful than any statue, which would seem puny and insignificant in comparison.
His harsh tone dragged her back to reality. “Lie down on the bed and spread your legs.”
She gasped. Did he truly mean to take her like this? Fear and panic welled up inside of her. The man might be her husband, but she didn’t know him at all. Yet, by law, he could do whatever he pleased with her, including taking what he wanted by force. Bella’s voiced cracked. “Surely you don’t mean to use me like some strumpet.”
“Why not? You dress like a whore. Why should I not treat you as one?”
“You would know a great deal about whores,” she said bitterly. The awful helplessness of the situation hit her. How insignificant she was. Despite the money and supposed consequence of being a future duchess, in the end, she was nothing but a piece of property. She belonged to him. Like the chair in the corner or the linen shirt he’d just discarded, she was just another piece of chattel.
Her gaze darted to the door, to any possible escape. “How dare you treat me in such a despicable manner?”
“It is interesting that you choose to act in an outrageous manner and then are surprised when someone actually treats you outrageously in return.”
“Do you think I will cower before you? You are a man of no consequence save your connection to me and all that is rightfully mine.”
A shadow of surprise glimmered across his face. Then that face of composure cracked into a savage countenance that prompted goose bumps to erupt across Bella’s skin. He advanced in on her, his voice dark and threatening. “Lie down on the bed.”
Stumbling backward against the bed, she plopped down on her bottom, her mind racing to find an escape, but her thoughts collided with obstacles in every direction they turned.
She looked to the lantern by her bedside. Perhaps while he rutted over her, she could slam it down on his head. She blinked and a tear fell. Looking down, she shook her head, disbelieving that she could be in this despairing predicament. “Please don’t.”
He drew an audible breath. For a long moment neither of them moved. Finally, Sebastian’s hand came under her chin to tilt it gently up until she found herself looking into the dark storm of his eyes.
“I would strongly suggest you dispense with any gown that is beyond the bounds of decency. I will not ask it again. If you need to have a new gown made up for His Grace’s rout, please do so immediately.” He referred to an upcoming gathering hosted by her father to mark her first official appearance in society. He strode over to his discarded clothes and picked them up on his way to the door. Pulling it open, he paused before stepping over the threshold.
“Do not mistake my leniency for weakness. You may be a future duchess, but I am master here. You would do well not to forget it.”
…
Bella paused outside the breakfast room and took a fortifying breath to steel herself against seeing her husband following last night’s debacle.
He’d left the house again after departing her bedchamber, slipping out under the cover of darkness, moving quickly and with purpose. From her window, she’d watched her husband fade into the inky shadows and wondered if he’d gone to seek comfort in the body of Camryn’s young maid.
A quick look around the sunny breakfast room confirmed Sebastian’s absence. She exhaled, but shock immediately replaced relief when her gaze landed on Orford. His darkened left eye was swollen almost shut, his lower lip split. The injuries appeared even more pronounced against the canvas of his handsome face.
Bella’s hand flew to cover her mouth. “Gad, what happened to you?”
Monty turned from where he stood filling his plate at the sideboard. “It turns out your husband is a skilled pugilist.”
“No!” exclaimed Bella. “Sebastian did that to you?”
Orford’s answering smile froze when he winced in pain, touching his hand to his split lip. “It’s nothing.”
“It is not nothing.” She ran a light finger over his swollen eye. “Are you all right? I can’t believe Sebastian did this.”
Josette nibbled on a roll. “He is full of surprises that husband of yours.” She gave Bella a knowing look. “As I guessed, Monsieur Sebastian is very manly.”
Tabby shuddered delicately. “Gentleman should not fight. It is uncivilized.”
“Apparently, he is quite renowned at Gentleman Jackson’s,” Monty said, slipping into the seat beside Tabby.
“You went along as well?” Bella asked him.
“Purely as a spectator. I’m not one to pass up a good bout.” Monty chuckled. “I learned few gentlemen care to face your husband. He is considered quite fearsome.”
Orford’s face darkened with displeasure. “Blood will tell, I suppose.”
The two footmen attending them stiffened. Reaching for her chocolate, Bella surreptitiously observed the servants’ reaction. “What do you mean?”
Orford shot her a sympathetic gaze. “Of course, you will have heard the rumors.”
This time there was no doubt the two footmen exchanged a quick disapproving glance. She noted, not for the first time, that even the male staff members displayed an uncommon devotion to the master of the house. Nodding to them, she said, “Thank you. You may go.”
Once they’d exited and closed the door behind them, she returned her attention to Orford. “What rumor is that?”
“That Stanhope is not really the marquess’s brother at all.”
“What matter of nonsense is this?” An unexpected surge of protectiveness welled in her. “Of course Camryn is Sebastian’s brother.”
Orford put a comforting hand over Bella’s. “They say your husband is a natural.”
“What is that?”
“It is understood among the ton that he was merry-begotten.”
Bella’s blood froze. Sebastian a bastard? “How can that be?”
Nothing made Josette’s eyes sparkle more than salacious gossip. Leaning forward, she spoke in hushed tones. “They say the mother enjoyed a liaison.”
Bella’s eyes widened. “His mother and another man?” She couldn’t imagine the gentle woman she’d met last evening cuckolding her husband.
Josette laughed at her friend’s obvious shock. “Mon cheri, it is nothing. She had already given her husband two sons. Do not be so provincial.”
Tab
by glanced nervously toward the door. “It is not well done of us to speak ill of our host. Really, he appears quite the gentleman.”
“You would think so, Tabby.” Monty favored her with an indulgent look. “You are too good by half to appreciate the baser nature of human behavior.”
Bella was stunned. “And her husband, Sebastian’s father, he didn’t mind?”
Orford lifted an elegant shoulder. “Who’s to say?”
“I see.” She sat back in her chair feeling strangely out of breath. “Who is his sire?”
“The talk is that he was an Italian of no consequence,” said Orford. “Probably a peasant.”
She pondered that, thinking of Sebastian’s dark curls, the olive tones in his complexion, how much his appearance differed from that of his brothers. It made sense.
Orford brought Bella’s hand to his lips. “I’m sorry, my dear, your husband’s bloodlines are even less impressive than they appear.”
She suppressed an impulse to defend Sebastian. Why, she couldn’t fathom, especially after his beastly behavior last evening. It had not been the behavior of a gentleman. It had, in fact, been base.
After the meal, everyone agreed to Tabby’s suggestion they visit the British Museum to see the Elgin marbles. Bella declined and pulled Orford aside as the others prepared to depart. “Anything new on the mysterious account at Barclay’s Bank?”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately, it has not been easy to find a clerk who is amenable to our particular form of persuasion.”
“Keep trying; we must find out whose name is on that account.”
“Who else could the money be for besides your husband?”
“A mistress. A parcel of by-blows. Who can know for certain? There are any number of possibilities.” She wanted all of the details about Sebastian’s secret account, the one to which he diverted one thousand pounds of Traherne money each month. “I must have inconvertible evidence of Sebastian’s pilfering when I take this matter to His Grace.”
“Not to worry, I’ll keep trying.” He gingerly touched his split lip. “It’s my pleasure to assist with this matter.”