by Diana Quincy
Shortly after her friends’ departure, Bella received a note from Willa, Duchess of Hartwell, inviting her to take tea. Eager to avoid running into her husband, she immediately sent her acceptance back to Sebastian’s cousin. At the appointed time, she donned a russet-colored dress, which brought out the color of her hair and eyes, this one with a neckline that was just fashionably low, not scandalously so.
Hartwell House stood in the finest part of Mayfair not far from Camryn’s equally impressive address. A dark-skinned butler she presumed to be from India showed her to a parlor, where the duchess rose to greet her. Camryn’s wife, Charlotte, the marchioness, was with her.
The duchess wore a stunning red day dress that complemented her porcelain skin and remarkable beauty. Her large brown eyes were warm and friendly. “We are so pleased you have come,” she said, inviting Bella to take a seat. “As you can imagine, Charlotte and I are most curious about Sebastian’s wife.”
“You will find us to be terribly inquisitive,” Charlotte said with a laugh, her lovely blue eyes sparkling. “But we are fond of your husband and are anxious to see him happily settled.” She wore a simple pale blue day gown with a high waist and a satin ribbon that tied under the modest swells of her bosom.
The duchess poured a cup of tea for Bella. “Sebastian is so obviously taken with you.”
“Taken by me, Your Grace?” Bella accepted the tea. “Surely not.”
The duchess filled a plate of food for her. “You must call me Willa. After all, we are family now.”
“And I am Charlotte,” said the marchioness. “Of course Sebastian is taken with you. It was obvious to all of us last evening.”
Both women gazed at her in an expectant way that made Bella’s cheeks heat.
“Sebastian’s feelings are often difficult to decipher, but his eyes followed your every movement last evening,” Willa said handing her a plate.
Probably because he worried her top would be lost. “I had not noticed.”
Charlotte sipped her tea. “Sebastian is not like other men. He never looks at women, certainly not in the appreciative way he regards you.”
Looking into the open, friendly faces of her new relations, Bella realized she quite liked them. Of course, they were wrong about Sebastian and other women. Willa and Charlotte were gentlewomen of the highest rank who’d have no inkling if Sebastian was indeed a thief with a propensity to use servant girls to satisfy his baser needs.
Willa filled her own teacup. “It is not as though he hasn’t had the opportunity. That quiet way about him entices many women to his side, but Sebastian rejects every advance as far as I can tell.”
“Is that why they call him the saint?” asked Bella.
“Not just that,” said Charlotte. “He is a gentleman in every way. Chaste, charitable, and I am certain he is a kind and indulgent husband.”
“He also has a keenness of mind and sweetness of temper,” said Willa. “He is gifted with humor and perception. He is the utmost gentleman.”
He’d hardly been a gentleman last night. “He does seem to worry about his consequence.”
Charlotte and Willa exchanged a glance.
“Not at all.” A frown marred the duchess’s lovely face, her displeasure obvious. “He is the last to think of such things.”
“It is only natural,” she said in easy conversational manner, “for a man to choose a bride based upon breeding and the standing she brings to the alliance.”
Charlotte’s face softened. “You are mistaken. Sebastian cares nothing for titles. He declined the one that was offered him.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” said Bella.
Willa patted Bella’s knee as though she were a child. “Because of his good standing and, no doubt, his marriage to you, the Lords offered to bestow the title of viscount on Sebastian.”
Stunned, it took a moment for Bella to understand Willa’s words. “Sebastian received a title? Through an act of parliament?”
Charlotte bit into a strawberry. “It is the way of men. They see Sebastian is married to a future duchess so they want to elevate him to a title that would make him worthy of his wife.”
Naturally. She swallowed down her bitterness. Marriage to her had proven even more advantageous for Sebastian than she’d thought. “He hadn’t mentioned his ennoblement.”
Charlotte patted her lips with a linen cloth to wipe away any remains of strawberry juice. “That’s because he refused it.”
Bella’s eyes widened. “Beg pardon?”
Charlotte settled back in her chair, her amusement obvious. “He turned down the title.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Not at all,” said Willa. “He rejected the offer of a title out of hand, saying he quite preferred to remain a mere mister.”
Charlotte chuckled. “It was quite the shock. No one has ever turned down a title before.”
“But why didn’t he take it?”
Willa shrugged. “Cam and Hartwell tried to convince him to. They told him to think of his future offspring, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
A noise in the hallway drew their attention. Willa rose. “Aunt Matilda and Mother are here,” she said, putting an end, for the moment, to Bella’s questions. Of which she now had many more than before.
…
Bella’s head was still swirling when she returned home and hurried to her rooms. Sebastian had turned down a title. Why, when position and fortune appeared to be so important to him? It made no sense at all.
She learned from the servants that he’d spent the day at home, most of that time in his study, receiving business-related calls. Still unnerved by the events of last evening, she was glad for the chance to avoid him. Still, the reprieve was short-lived. Almost immediately, she received a summons from Sebastian to join him in his study.
“What does he want?” she asked Davison when he delivered the missive.
“He requests your presence, my lady. He mentioned there are matters to be discussed.” She watched Davison bow out of the room. While the butler was most attentive, she couldn’t help feeling he was really her husband’s man. He, like all of the servants, demonstrated an extreme loyalty to their employer, who they clearly saw as Sebastian. Even though they were likely paid with Traherne funds. She sighed. It was the way of things. She might as well accustom herself to it; a woman owned next to nothing once she married.
Her mind returned to her impending appointment with her husband. What to wear? She finally settled on her most severe gown, with a high collar and long sleeves to the wrist, left over from her finishing school days. Her hair, she pulled back into a severe manner, fashioning a bun at the nape of her neck.
Nerves jabbing at her stomach, she made her way to the study. The door was ajar allowing murmurs of conversation to drift out into the hall. His business associates must still be with him. She turned to go, but a decidedly feminine sound coming from the study stopped her. Curious, she advanced to the door and peered inside.
Her maid, Louisa, stood before Sebastian. They were in front of his desk, with just inches separating them. Bella couldn’t see Louisa’s face, but she had a clear view of Sebastian’s. A warm smile lit his face as he looked down on the girl. Bella’s stomach lurched. He laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder and murmured something Bella couldn’t hear. Yet their actions spoke volumes; his casual physical contact with the servant girl, their proximity to each other, the easy, fond expression on her husband’s face. Pain twisted in her chest. Sebastian and another servant. Perhaps Louisa was yet another reason he didn’t visit her bed.
She pushed the door open. “You asked to see me?” she asked, her voice unnaturally loud.
Looking at her, Sebastian slowly removed his hand from Louisa’s shoulder, as though laying hands upon a servant was nothing to be remarked upon. His eyes skimmed over Bella’s dress, a glimmer of amusement flashing there before his gaze turned inscrutably polite.
“Yes, thank you for coming.” He motioned
for her to come forward. “That will be all, Louisa.” The maid hurried out, dropping a quick curtsy to Bella, her eyes downcast. She closed the door behind her.
Sebastian gazed at Bella for a moment. He was in shirtsleeves, his enormous, muscled forearms lightly dusted with dark curls. He wore no cravat so that his collar opened at the neck, revealing curls of dark hair licking at his throat. “Are you contemplating joining a nunnery?”
Tearing her gaze away from his impressive form, she realized he referred to her severe gown. “There are no nunneries in England, as you well know.”
“True. Perhaps off to join a mission of mercy then?”
“I thought you would find this mode of dress more to your exacting taste.”
“I see. So you must either play the lightskirt or a spinster governess. Is there no middle ground for you, Mirabella?”
“Is there no place but the middle ground for you?”
A slight smile curved his lips. “Well said. Please sit.” He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk.
Advancing, she grasped the back of the chair instead. “No, thank you. I’d prefer to stand.”
Courtesy dictated he remain standing as well. “As you will.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he walked to the hearth. His breeches clung to the firm, well-rounded muscles of his rear. Bella swallowed hard and jerked her gaze away when he turned to face her.
Clearing his throat, his clear green gaze met hers. “I wish to apologize for last evening.”
Bella’s eyes widened. He’d behaved badly, but she hadn’t expected a show of remorse. She’d baited him, insulted him, even shamed him before his family. “Oh.”
“My behavior was abominable.” His full lips pressed into a grim line. “It was wrong of me to insult you in such a manner. You are my wife, and, as your husband, it is my place to honor and protect you. It is certainly not to debase you. Allow me to assure you such a sordid scene will never happen again.”
She released a breath, her mind still focused on her maid. “What was Louisa doing in here?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Why was my maid in your study?” Bella crossed her arms over her chest. “Does she report my comings and goings to you?”
His grim countenance eased. “Of course not.”
“Then why was she here?”
He regarded her with puzzlement. “She is in my employ. I make it my concern to check on the welfare of the servants.”
“Is she your—” She flushed, unable to finish the thought.
“Is she my what?” He regarded her for a moment before his eyebrows rose in understanding. “My peculiar? Of course not. She is just a servant. Although I am flattered by your interest.”
“I am not interested. Not in the least.” The words tumbled out. Too quickly. Mortified, Bella closed her eyes. She opened them to find penetrating eyes focused on her.
“There is only one woman who interests me in that way.”
She fought the urge to cover her face in shame for showing jealousy over a servant. “Yet you don’t make demands of that sort on me—” She clamped her mouth shut again, wishing she could keep her tongue in her mouth and control her feelings the way Sebastian did.
He came around to the front of his desk and rested his hip against it in a manner that caused his thigh muscles to bulge. “What is it, Mirabella? Pray do speak freely.”
Pressing her lips together, she gave him a mutinous look and shook her head, not daring to open her traitorous mouth again.
“Is this about me demanding my marital rights?”
Bella tightened her arms across her chest. “I accept your apology.” She spun around, anxious to quit the room. “If that is all—”
Suddenly he was behind her, all warmth and hard masculinity. “No, that is not all.” His breath tingled through her hair. Large arms came around her. He seemed to hesitate before pulling her back against the rocklike length of his body.
“Surely,” he murmured in her ear, “you cannot think I am immune to your charms.” It was so hot in the room with him holding her. Her heart contracted. She longed to sink back into him, to be encompassed by his virility, to surrender to him. Determined to fight it, she shook her head against the feeling. Caring for her husband might very well lead to despair and disappointment.
She pushed away from him. She felt his hesitation, but then he released her. “If that is all—”
“It is not.” He returned to his desk. “Please indulge me for a few more minutes.”
She forced a breath and her shaky legs carried her back to the chair he’d offered earlier. This time, she gratefully sank into it.
Crossing his arms over his wide chest, he leaned his hip back against his desk again. She immediately realized her mistake. Sitting put her at eye level with the contours of his groin area. Josette’s words about his manly assets swirled in her mind. Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze up to her husband’s face. As usual, his expression was inscrutable.
“Since you brought up the subject of the marital bed.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Of course not. Please forgive my impertinence.”
Eager to escape this line of questioning, Bella started to rise from her chair. “Now that we’ve cleared that up—”
“Still, you are my wife and it is not outside the bounds of propriety for me to assert my husbandly rights.”
She plopped back in the chair with an unladylike thud. “Why don’t you satisfy yourself with your ladybird?”
“I have no mistress.”
She snorted. “Please. You must think me an incredibly silly chit to believe that.”
His dark eyebrows drew together. “You must think me completely without honor.”
“It is not a question of honor. Many husbands have…a friend such as that.”
“I do not.”
“Perhaps not at the moment.” She squinted her eyes at him. “When did you give her up? Your last mistress, I mean.”
“When we married.”
“When I came to live here a few weeks ago?”
“No, when we married. I parted with my mistress on my wedding day.”
“So you’ve resorted to occasional dalliances with ser…whoever is at hand…instead of having a formal arrangement with one woman.”
“No. I have not known a woman in that way since we married.”
Six years ago? She laughed. “You must think me a fool to believe such a Banbury tale.”
“It is no tale. There was nothing to be done for it. We had married. There was no honor in betraying my wife.”
It took her a stunned moment to process his meaning. She searched his face for signs of mendacity, but his clear eyes returned a strong and steady gaze. She shook her head in disbelief. “Six years? Are you telling me you’ve gone without a woman for six years?”
His unwavering eyes held hers. “Yes.”
“What is the matter with you? Do you not like women? Oh.” She felt dizzy. This was a complication she had not foreseen. “I saw men such as that in Paris.”
A line formed between his dark brows. “I don’t follow.”
“Men who are drawn to…their own kind.”
His chuckle was a low baritone, the sound warm and amused. He knelt in front of her, his enormous hands brushing her flanks. “I assure you, my taste is for women. One woman in particular.” His hands slid higher until they rubbed the outsides of her hips.
Her nerve endings quivered with excitement, as though they’d been awakened from a long hibernation. “What are you doing?”
“Convincing my wife of my desire for her.” He leaned in to kiss the side of her neck, sending pleasurable sparks through her body. “I assure you, I am most anxious to end my years of abstinence.”
“Oh.”
He nipped at her neck. “My little hoyden is speechless for once.”
She gripped the arms of her chair while his soft lips and hot touches of tongue feathered against the rampant pulse throbbing i
n her neck. His mouth moved up her neck, tasting her along the way, taking a sensual soft bite every now and again.
“I should like to take my boon now,” he murmured against her prickling skin.
“Hmm?” she said, too distracted by his drugging ministrations to follow his words.
His lips moved up her neck, tasting her along the way, taking a sensual soft bite every now and again. “My bout with Orford. A kiss was to be my reward.”
Yes. Yes. “Then I suppose I’ll have to allow it,” she said in as distant a voice as she could muster.
After what seemed like an eternity, his mouth finally reached hers and fastened on to it. Soft and warm, his lips caressed hers with tender movements. Beyond any pretense, she parted her lips almost immediately, hungry to taste him.
His tongue rubbed hers with confident, insistent strokes. He tasted indescribably good, tangy, sweet, yet masculine. She’d never experienced such sensory pleasure; every part of her awakened and vibrated with life. She finally forced herself to break the kiss. Gasping for breath, she searched his face. “Have you really been faithful to me?”
He bent to nibble on her ear. “Yes.”
“Oh!” Acute pleasure shot through her at the sensation of his mouth on the tender flesh of her lobe. She gulped and forced him back, her hands on his chest. “But why?”
He was clearly a virile man, perhaps the most so she had ever met. To go so many years without a woman seemed unnatural. And utterly romantic. “Tell me.”
He sat back on his heels, his beautiful eyes fastened on hers. With a deep sigh, he pushed to his feet and walked to stand in front of the hearth. After a moment, he turned to face her, a grave look on his face. “Do not think I am at ease with what I did to you, Mirabella. I allowed our fathers to take an innocent child and force her into a lifetime attachment to a stranger.”
Her heart thumped painfully. “Why did you do it?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was ten and nine. I had never heard of anything so disagreeable, forcing marriage on a child. But your father owed mine. With our union, the gaming debt was settled.”
She must have misheard him. “I don’t understand.”