Sebastian excused himself to arrange for refreshments, returning quickly. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Apparently the vicar has been called away to Shropshire, to attend his sick mother. He isn’t expected back until sometime later tomorrow.”
The vicar was away? That meant they could not be married this evening, as they had planned. Cautioning herself not to overreact, Eleanor took a deep breath. “I am very sorry to hear of his dilemma. I shall pray for his mother’s rapid recovery.”
Sebastian grimaced. “We’ll go into the village after tea. I’ll send a servant ahead to secure a room for you at the local inn, then settle you there myself. ‘Tis far from elegant, but it’s clean. For appearances, one of the chambermaids will accompany you, and to ensure your safety I will also send James, my most trusted footman. He’ll sleep outside your door.”
“Goodness, you sound as if I am going into the heart of France in the middle of the war.”
Sebastian puffed out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “You can’t stay here without a proper chaperone.”
Eleanor bit her bottom lip. “Who is to know?”
“The servants?”
“True, yet I’m sure they owe you some loyalty.” He kept silent and she continued. “Well, at the very least they will hold their tongues for fear of losing their positions. Besides, once the vicar appears tomorrow, we shall be married by special license and this will no longer matter.”
“We could elope to Gretna Green,” Sebastian suggested unenthusiastically.
“I have no wish to travel on the Great North Road like a criminal fleeing the law,” Eleanor declared. “We agreed to be married on your estate.” She could sense he was starting to waver but was not yet convinced. Determined to persuade him, Eleanor reached up and laid a finger against his lips. “I want to stay here.”
She realized when she spoke how true her words were. She had committed herself to this man and despite the impropriety of the situation she did not want to leave him. Even for one night.
“Are you sure?” His voice trailed away.
“I am.”
Their eyes held for a moment until Sebastian broke the contact and glanced away. “I wish I could offer to sleep in the stables to ensure you are alone in the house,” he said, his voice suddenly amused. “But hay makes me sneeze.”
She smiled, trying to imagine him with a clogged head and a stuffy nose. The image was difficult to conjure, yet it made him appear more vulnerable in her mind, more human. He might be a sophisticated man with far more life experience, but in the end it was a comfort to realize he was still just a man.
Tea arrived. It was delivered by the housekeeper, the ring of keys around her waist jingling merrily. Eleanor lifted her chin and met the older woman’s eye squarely, wondering what she must be thinking. Surely it had to be an unusual occurrence for the viscount to bring an unchaperoned female guest to the manor. What had he told the staff about her?
“Thank you, Mrs. Florid,” Sebastian said to the servant. “Lady Eleanor and I will serve ourselves.”
The housekeeper hesitated, eyeing Sebastian guardedly before nodding. She started to back out of the room, then stopped. “Beg your pardon, my lady. The staff and I would like to extend our felicitations to you and his lordship on your upcoming nuptials. We hope you’ll be very happy.”
Eleanor relaxed. Apparently Sebastian had informed the staff that she was his betrothed. Or he had told at least one individual, which in truth was all that was necessary. In Eleanor’s experience, servants’ gossip spread faster than wildfire.
“Thank you for your kind words, Mrs. Florid.” Eleanor grinned. “I look forward to meeting the staff and working closely with you in the future.”
Smiling broadly, the housekeeper dropped a hasty curtsy and quit the room. Eleanor reached for the silver teapot and poured a cup, handing it over to a scowling Sebastian.
“That was most unexpected,” he declared, stirring milk into his tea. “I vow she was beaming at us like a doting grandmother.”
Eleanor placed her hand on Sebastian’s forearm. “Weddings cause females of all ages to act a bit giddy.”
“Except you, thank heavens.” He turned his arm and intertwined their hands, his thumb rubbing idly across her palm. “Mrs. Florid is at least sixty years old. One would hope a woman of her years is beyond acting giddy.”
“I think it’s sweet.”
Sebastian huffed in disagreement. Eleanor poured herself a cup of tea, refusing to pick up the argument. This mundane, peaceful domestic scene put her in a contemplative frame of mind and she didn’t want to spoil the mood.
They ate a few of the sandwiches from the tray and several of the cakes. Eleanor asked him questions about the estate and his boyhood years. He answered readily, spinning a few tall tales of his exploits as a young boy, making her laugh loudly when he detailed his attempt at being a highwayman at the age of five.
“Your neighbor actually handed over her emerald necklace?” Eleanor asked.
“Along with the matching earbobs.” He smiled, his eyes twinkling brightly at the memory. “I was a very fierce thief, you know, passionate and determined.”
“I believe it.”
He laughed. “I can still recall how ecstatic I felt with my success. Eager to show off my loot, I ran directly to my mother. She nearly fainted when I told her what I had done. Of course I was forced to return the jewels immediately.
“As punishment, my mother ordered my tutor to administer a sound paddling, then cried more than I did when it was over. My grandmother defended me staunchly, insisting that my mother should be proud to have such a high-spirited, imaginative son. And Lady Gately, my helpless victim, was also very kind. She insisted that no harm had been done and then confessed to having a soft spot for a fatherless boy.”
“Were you very young when your father died?”
“Practically an infant. I have no memories of him at all.” The regret in Sebastian’s voice was subtle. It made Eleanor’s heart ache to hear it.
“And your mother?”
Sebastian stiffened. “I was young, though unfortunately I remember her death with vivid, painful detail.”
A lump caught in Eleanor’s throat. She remembered well her own grief, for she too had lost her mother when she was a girl. Wordlessly Eleanor took Sebastian’s hand in understanding, patting it gently until she felt his body finally relax.
“Tell me, what profession did you next attempt after failing to make a success of robbing the highways?”
Sebastian squeezed her hand. “Why, I prepared to become a pirate, of course. They work as a crew, therefore, the blame for these scurrilous acts are shared. I recruited several lads from the village to join my band and we plotted our first attack.”
Eleanor’s brows knit together. “The estate is landlocked.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Trifling details to a gang of boys intent on mischief.”
She smiled and he told her several of his pirate tales. Eleanor was amazed at what he was able to get the other boys to do, then surmised that even at a young age his natural leadership had surfaced. Not until the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour did she realize how late it had gotten.
“I’ll tell Mrs. Florid to push supper back an hour so there will be time for you to indulge in a bath,” Sebastian announced, as he rose to his feet. “I’m sure you’d relish the chance to soak away the travel dust.”
Only if you agree to join me. A rush of heat permeated her body at the sensual notion. Where had that thought emerged from? Eleanor wondered, but then one look at Sebastian’s stormy gray eyes and she knew the answer.
Too shy to voice her wanton thoughts aloud, Eleanor reasoned there would be time enough for them to be together later tonight. The carnal ache she felt at the very idea of sharing his bed had her blushing like a schoolgirl. Fortunately, Sebastian seemed oblivious to her predicament.
Their feet made a scu
ffing noise on the marble steps as he led her up the grand curving stairs and along a narrow corridor, stopping at a door in the center. “This will be your bedchamber.”
Eleanor raised her brow but said nothing. Of course it was necessary for her to have her own chamber, for appearance sake. But she had no intention of sleeping in it, unless Sebastian was there too.
“Where is your room?”
He pointed to the last door on the opposite side of the hall. “I sleep with my door locked. I recommend you do the same.”
“Goodness, life is dangerous in Chaswick Manor. I never would have suspected. Back home the servants rarely lock the outside doors, let alone the interior ones.”
Eleanor tried to smile, but his solemn expression stopped her. Sebastian was acting oddly. She felt as though he wanted to tell her something. Something relevant, something important, yet for some reason he couldn’t.
“Danger comes in many forms, Eleanor. You would do well to remember it.”
He reached out and smoothed a stray curl of her hair. The brush of his warm fingers on her cheek felt soothing, comforting. Eleanor closed her eyes and turned her face into his palm, rubbing against him like a contented kitten.
“But I feel safe with you, Sebastian.”
His hand abruptly pulled away. Eleanor’s eyes popped open. His face was a frozen mask of formality. Goodness, what was wrong?
“Supper will be served at eight,” he said crisply. “I will fetch you myself and escort you to the dining room.”
“I’ll be ready,” Eleanor replied, but he had already turned and walked away.
Sebastian kept his strides long and even, fearing if he did not get away soon he’d march right over to Eleanor and demand she leave. Fighting the urge and cursing himself mightily for the pang of conscience that was threatening to rip apart the very fabric of his carefully laid plans, Sebastian made his way to the stables.
Though the grooms had already brushed, fed, and watered his mount, he picked up a brush and started in on the horse’s hind flank. Normally a soothing activity, the task did little to even out his mood.
Sebastian’s gut churned. Eleanor was making this too easy for him. He’d half hoped she would take him up on the offer of a room at the village inn, but was not surprised when she refused. She trusted him. To keep his promise and marry her. To keep her safe.
He had played his part well, too well, really. She was besotted with him, so much so that her good sense had vanished. A sudden tightness in his chest accompanied a deep sense of guilt, because he knew that given the chance, he would in all likelihood do it again. Nothing would bring him any satisfaction until he exacted his revenge against the Earl of Hetfield.
Then why wasn’t he savoring the sweetness of victory that was finally within his grasp?
Scowling, he switched the brush to his other hand and moved to the horse’s left flank. The mount tossed his head and took a few steps away. With a sigh of disgust, Sebastian threw the brush into the corner of the stall. He paced the confines of the mews, wondering how he was going to survive the night with Eleanor under his roof, sleeping in a chamber a few doors away.
Sebastian’s mood grew progressively grimmer as the afternoon turned into evening. He was silent when fetching Eleanor for supper, the sight of her freshly scrubbed face and pretty green silk gown putting him on edge.
Their meal together was tense. The food was not elegant or fancy, but it was well prepared and plentiful, a credit to the staff considering they had no advance notice. Yet neither he nor Eleanor did it any justice.
Though she politely thanked the footman as each course was served and repeatedly conveyed her compliments to the cook, Sebastian noticed Eleanor ate very little. Mostly she pushed the items around on her plate, rearranging them in new patterns.
Sebastian did not even bother with that charade. He neglected his food entirely, electing instead to drink his dinner. After commanding the footman to leave the wine bottle by his side, he never let his glass become completely empty. Occasionally he took the initiative to top off her goblet, but Eleanor drank little.
Sebastian continued to wonder why her wits didn’t return, why she didn’t confront him and question the lack of a vicar to perform their marriage ceremony. She was a clever, intelligent woman—she should be suspicious of him.
“‘Tis late. I’m certain you must be tired,” he said as the dessert course sat untouched on their plates. “I’ll have James escort you to your chamber.”
“I’d rather wait for you.”
Shit! She smiled sweetly, setting his blood pounding into a dangerous rhythm. Her open expression was a seductive invitation he was finding difficult to resist. Thank God they weren’t alone or else he just might act on his desire, pull her onto his lap and kiss her senseless.
He wanted her naked in his bed, where he could enjoy her at his leisure, taking her again and again throughout the night. With a curse, he drained his glass. The frenzied image rendered him uncomfortably hard, requiring a few moments and another glass of wine before he could stand and leave the table. Surging to his feet, he sailed past Eleanor.
“Sebastian, wait!”
At her cry, the startled footman quickly pulled back the heavy, high-backed chair, assisting a surprised Eleanor to her feet. Sebastian wanted nothing more than to continue on his way, but good manners prevailed. He could not allow her to trail after him like a faithful hound.
Reluctantly he stopped, turned, and held out his arm. She gripped it tightly, leaning in so close he could see down the top of her low-cut gown. The creamy white globes of her breasts were a glorious sight, a temptation nearly impossible to resist. Yet he knew somehow he must.
Sebastian wrenched his eyes away, taking a few seconds to compose himself. Somehow he made his way up the staircase and down the hallway. Eleanor chatted softly as they walked, her voice a throaty hum of seduction.
Sebastian did his best to ignore it.
At last they reached her bedchamber door. He swayed slightly as he stood in front of it. Hellfire and damnation, I shouldn’t have had so much to drink.
Knowing his judgment was never at its best when clouded with alcohol, Sebastian tried to hurry Eleanor into her room. “Good night.”
“Wait!” Her head came up, undisguised alarm leaping in her eyes. “Aren’t you going to kiss me good night?”
Sebastian swore, cursing himself for not anticipating her request. Naturally she expected a sign of affection. She believed she was going to become his wife tomorrow. Breaking his resolve he stepped forward, tipped her head back, and kissed her lips, hard and fast.
“There! Now once again, good night, Eleanor.”
She reached for him, but he avoided her grasp. “Shall I expect you in my bedchamber later?” she asked bluntly.
Bloody hell, she was killing him! He slowly shook his head. “We are not yet husband and wife.”
“But we will be soon.” Their gazes met, clashing. “Please stay with me tonight.”
His mouth went dry, yet somehow he was able to snap, “I can’t.”
“Why?” She leaned closer and tipped her head invitingly.
Because I like you, I care about you. Because I harbor feelings for you that go beyond physical desire. Because you deserve far more than I am able to give you. Because I am using you to take my revenge against your father, perhaps even end his life.
It took a supreme act of willpower for Sebastian to keep his hands at his side. “We’ll talk about things in the morning,” he said gruffly. “Sleep well, Eleanor.”
With that said, Sebastian turned and walked away. Noble acts were supposed to make you feel good, feel proud, feel strong, he thought. Pure rubbish. He felt awful. Frustrated, angry, even a bit depressed.
An acute sensation of regret formed in his chest, a feeling that he swiftly buried. He had brought Eleanor here to create a scandal, but he would not take advantage of her vulnerability. Staying in the house overnight, with only the servants as chaperones, was enoug
h to ruin her. It would force the earl’s hand and achieve the necessary result.
He might crave her desperately, with a fervor that bordered on irrationality, but he would not add insult by seducing her and taking her virginity.
He owed her at least that much.
Chapter 14
Eleanor felt as if she had just been slapped. She stared at Sebastian’s retreating back, her mind a jumble of confusion. What was going on? Why had he left her? Did he no longer find her appealing, desirable? Or was it something about being back in his boyhood home that caused this puzzling behavior? Whatever the cause, the result was sheer disappointment.
Eleanor slowly opened the bedchamber door and went inside, shutting it with a resounding thud. Sinking onto the edge of a chair, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to make sense of what was happening.
There was a sound at her chamber door, a soft knock. Eleanor’s heart quickened. With a sigh of relief, she raced to the door and yanked it open. “I knew you had to be teasing—”
She quieted instantly when she found herself standing face to face with Mrs. Florid.
“Good evening, my lady.” The servant dropped a hasty curtsy. “I was wondering if you required any assistance, seeing as how your maid isn’t here and all.”
“What happened to Lucy?” Eleanor asked, referencing the chambermaid who had assisted her earlier with her bath and dressing for dinner.
“She has too many duties below stairs,” Mrs. Florid promptly replied. “But I can have her fetched if you would prefer.”
“No, that won’t be necessary. All I need is someone to unfasten the buttons at the back of my gown.”
Mrs. Florid entered the chamber and closed the door behind her. Eleanor could tell the housekeeper wanted to chat but in deference to Eleanor’s quiet mood restrained herself. She efficiently assisted Eleanor out of her evening gown, then soundlessly retreated at Eleanor’s dismissive nod.
A Little Bit Sinful Page 20
