A Little Bit Sinful

by Adrienne Basso

  “I want my child to have my name,” Sebastian insisted stubbornly.

  “I want my child to be raised in a household of love and respect,” Eleanor countered.

  He dragged in an unsteady breath. “You must do what is best for this baby. Luckily you have been able to pull off your little charade for now. But sooner or later someone will come along who knows the truth and then you will suffer for it. As will the child.” Her face paled and he knew he had found her weakness. “The only solution is marriage. You know that, Eleanor.”

  She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “You have every right to be bitter about what the earl did to your mother, what he did to you. My baby is part of his bloodline. How will you look upon this child and not remember how much you despise the earl? How will you ever accept this innocent being into your life, into your heart?”

  Conceding the point, Sebastian calmed his voice. “I admit it won’t be easy, but that doesn’t mean we should not try.”

  His child would be raised with all the advantages of wealth and privilege. Yet he could not guarantee his feelings, because he honestly didn’t know if he could see beyond the fact that the earl was the child’s grandfather. Eleanor started shaking her head and Sebastian’s stomach knotted. He should have told her what she needed to hear, but he couldn’t lie to her. Never again.

  “I was raised by a man who disliked and neglected me,” she said. “I will never allow my child to suffer a similar fate.”

  “While the earl is the very last person I would wish to be grandfather to my children, I can guarantee that I will never treat my offspring the way he has treated you,” Sebastian countered hotly.

  He saw the uncertainty in her eyes and it made him even more angry. If he couldn’t convince her, then all would be lost. Unless he forced her into marriage. Could he do it? He knew her weakness, knew exactly what he could use as leverage.

  “I can’t marry you, Sebastian.”

  Her words crushed him. Knowing he now had no other choice, he moved closer, fixing his gaze intently on her eyes. “I suspect the warm reception you have received from the community will change abruptly when they discover you are not a widow, but instead an unwed mother-to-be.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she whispered, horrified.

  “I wouldn’t want to,” he clarified. “That doesn’t mean I would not do it. Please, don’t force my hand, Eleanor.”

  Her breath came in shallow pants. Her stricken eyes cut into Sebastian’s heart, but his options were few. Her reputation was the only bargaining chip he had and if forced, he would use it.

  “You would label your child a bastard, to be shunned and ridiculed, forever burdened with shame?” she asked.

  “More than anything I want to protect this baby. That’s why we must marry,” he replied, hoping his sincerity would mollify her enough to be reasonable.

  “And you hope to achieve my compliance by threatening me?” She raised her brow. “A novel approach.”

  He smiled then. Her ire must be waning if her sarcastic wit was emerging. He wondered if a kiss would change her mind and seal the arrangement?

  Eleanor watched Sebastian’s lips tighten and realized precisely where his thoughts were heading. He was going to kiss her, was he? Well, let him try.

  She narrowed her eyes as tightly as she was able, but the dratted man only deepened his smile, his masculine presence overwhelming the room, dominating every corner of the feminine retreat she and Aunt Jane had created.

  This was not happening! It had taken them weeks to locate this cottage and almost two months to establish themselves among the community as well-bred gentlewomen. And now Sebastian had threatened to expose her as an unwed expectant mother if she did not agree to marry him.

  She tried to draw in a breath, but her lungs constricted. It exasperated her to be at his mercy, but her days of being a victim were over. If she decided to marry him it would be because she believed it to be best, not because he coerced her.

  And she was considering it, even though she had just told him no. She assumed that his proposal was partially motivated by a sense of guilt, but that didn’t overly concern her. She might not like it, but his argument had merit. There were practical reasons for accepting this offer that could not be dismissed out of hand.

  Added to the practical were the emotional. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing Sebastian enter her parlor, Eleanor had felt a surprising rush of euphoria, followed by an overwhelming longing.

  The deep, bruising ache of hurt and the blazing anger of betrayal she felt toward him were gone, no doubt mellowed by the passing of time and faded because she carried his child. She was wary and guarded, of course, but that was to be expected. Yet as she gazed into his eyes, the lure of what might be possible if she were willing to take a chance and marry him was a real temptation.

  She still loved him. With an intensity that let her know for as long as she drew breath, logic would never play a role in her feelings for him. Love was not an emotion she could control. She must either reject or embrace it.

  Did she dare surrender to the yearning deep inside? Would she be able to protect her unborn child from a father who might be uneasy around it, who might be emotionally distant?

  Eleanor closed her eyes. These questions could not be duly weighed and considered while Sebastian stood in front of her, clouding her senses. And if he did kiss her, good heavens, her wits would truly scatter.

  Her eyes popped open. “I will concede that your proposal deserves consideration. However, I will not be bullied by you or any man. I need time to contemplate your proposal and by God, I shall have it.”

  His gaze lingered on her lips for a heartbeat and then he nodded. “All right. If you promise that you will give my offer serious consideration, I will wait. But don’t take too long, Eleanor. In order for the child to be legitimate we must marry before it is born.”

  * * *

  Four days. For four days Sebastian cooled his heels at the local inn. Despite the comfortable accommodations, excellent service, and tasty food, he was miserable. Word had quickly spread that there was an earl staying at the inn and he had been besieged by the local gentry with invitations. He had politely refused them all, fearful of his reaction if he encountered Eleanor in a social situation.

  Alas, his reclusive nature turned him into an even greater curiosity. He tried to keep to his rooms as much as possible, but eventually boredom set in and he would venture outside. Where he was immediately waylaid by virtual strangers, stared at and whispered over by nearly everyone he encountered. Ridiculous.

  There had been no word from Eleanor and his notoriety made it impossible for him to visit or even write her, for he trusted no one to deliver the letters without announcing it to one and all. The lack of communication worried him and he feared she was ignoring him deliberately, simply waiting for him to leave so she could dismiss him from her life. The thought left him in a decidedly sour mood.

  On the afternoon of his fifth day in what he now regarded as purgatory, Sebastian decided he had had enough. He would take out his mount for a long ride and make his way to Eleanor’s cottage. He would strive to remain undetected, but if he were spotted, then so be it.

  Plans made, he strode quickly to the public stables where his horse was being kept. As he hurried past the shops on the main street, he happened to glance inside one where he noticed a group of women clustered around a display table. Eleanor was among them.

  The sight of her hit him with the force of a punch. She looked radiant, the swell of her abdomen barely visible beneath the folds of her cloak. The opportunity was too perfect to call it anything other than fate. True, he had promised her time to make her decision, but he had given her time.

  He pushed the door open and strolled into the shop. Astonished silence greeted his arrival. “Good afternoon, ladies.” He lifted his hat and gave them all a sweeping bow.

  Eleanor’s eyes grew round. Aunt Jane’s lips thinned in disapproval. All the other women
blushed, smiled, or did both. He noticed one fix her bonnet, another hastily pinch her cheeks to add color.

  “Lord Tinsdale.” A sharp-faced matron garbed in a hideous gown of deep orange answered his greeting, then swept into an awkward curtsy. The others quickly did the same, with the exception of Eleanor and Aunt Jane.

  He smiled. “You will pardon the interruption, but when I spied all of you from the window I realized I could not go by without coming inside and greeting an old friend.”

  Several sets of eyebrows raised and a dull muttering was heard. Judging by the anxious glances the women were throwing at one another, it was clear they were taken aback by his statement.

  “We were unaware that you counted someone among us as your friend,” the matron admitted, casting a glare at the other women, obviously searching for the individual who had dared to withhold such a juicy on-dit.

  Sebastian flicked a glance at Eleanor. She remained silent, her grim scrutiny of him so intense it nearly burned a hole through the fabric of his jacket.

  “How are you today, Mrs. Stewart?”

  As expected, the resulting silence was deafening.

  The matron’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Mrs. Stewart? My goodness, whoever would have guessed? Why, you’ve been here these many days, my lord, and she has never once uttered a word about you to any of us. Pray, tell us, Mrs. Stewart, where did you meet his lordship?”

  Eleanor visibly gritted her teeth before quietly muttering, “In London.”

  The matron flushed, the red in her face clashing markedly with the orange of her gown. “Aren’t you the sly one, my dear. We had no idea you moved in such exalted social circles, did we, ladies?”

  The women nodded fervently, their expressions accusatory. Eleanor’s face drained of color. She looked helplessly from the group of women to him. Trembling, she opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, sighing in resignation.

  Say it! Reveal her real name, her true rank, her lie. It’s for her own good, as well as yours. Sebastian smiled softly, imagining Eleanor as his wife. Then he thought of the heartache and humiliation she would suffer when he told these women the truth. His smile slid away.

  “‘Twas actually Mr. Stewart with whom I was better acquainted,” Sebastian said, laying a gentle hand on Eleanor’s arm in an attempt to calm her trembling. “His untimely passing was a harsh blow to those of us who were privileged to know him, for he was an honorable man, one without equal, a man I was proud to call my friend.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Stewart was a man of unparalleled virtue,” Aunt Jane broke in quickly, relief edging her voice. “It has been a sad and difficult time without him.”

  She tugged Eleanor away from Sebastian’s grasp and after a hasty good-bye, hustled her out of the shop, leaving him behind to field the myriad of questions posed by a gossip-hungry group of women.

  When he finally escaped, he could feel a headache starting behind his eyes. Thankfully, the fresh air offered some relief. Intending to get a great deal more of it, Sebastian headed purposefully toward the stables. He had just turned the corner when he heard his name being called.

  His insides twisted at the sight of Eleanor rushing toward him. No doubt she was coming to thank him. And bid him farewell. ‘Twas a bitter pill to swallow.

  “You couldn’t do it,” she said breathlessly, her eyes shining. “You couldn’t tell them the truth about me.”

  “No.” He exhaled roughly, the bite of failure sharp in his chest. “But this does not mean I am going to abandon you and our child. I will send funds, make periodic visits to ensure—”

  “I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “I’ll marry you.”

  Sebastian paused, certain he had misheard. “Say that again.”

  “I’ll marry you,” she repeated, regarding him evenly.

  “But your secret is safe, your position here as the widow Stewart even more secure now that the lie has been collaborated by me. An earl.” He managed a wry smile and to his complete amazement she joined him.

  “Yes, the ladies were most impressed. I had forgotten how darn charming you can be when you put your mind to it.”

  “So it was my charm that finally made you accept?” he asked lightly.

  She shook her head. “The scene could not have been more perfect if it had been written in a play. Nearly every female of social importance gathered together in one place. It would have been so easy, effortless really, for you to have told them the truth. Yet you didn’t expose me, Sebastian. You couldn’t expose me.” Her eyes softened. “And that gives me hope.”

  Chapter 19

  They were wed three days later with a special license in a simple ceremony at a church en route to Yorkshire. A teary-eyed Aunt Jane and the vicar’s wife served as witnesses. Eleanor wore a pale blue muslin gown made months ago in London by Madame Claudette, with the bust and seams let out to accommodate her fuller figure.

  Her condition was noticeable, of course, but neither the vicar nor his wife made any comment or gave any indication that something was amiss. Eleanor decided they must have been paid very handsomely to effortlessly pull off such a warm, personal service on such short notice.

  Throughout the ceremony Eleanor remained keenly aware of her handsome bridegroom, standing so still beside her. Many a woman would envy her good fortune at snagging such an impressive man for a husband, but Eleanor’s feelings were decidedly mixed.

  Sebastian’s actions in the shop had renewed her faith in his character, had given her hope for the future, yet she knew well the risk she was taking. If she were wrong about him, she would be miserable, but it was her unborn child who would suffer the most.

  The vicar paused, looking at her expectantly. There is still time to back out. Eleanor swallowed as a pang of fear twisted inside her. Was she making a horrible mistake?

  Her nervous gaze swung to Sebastian. He tensed, sensing her conflict, probably wondering how he was going to explain things to the vicar if she turned on her heel and fled. Then Sebastian’s warm hand closed gently over her cold one. She shuddered.

  “‘Tis your turn to recite the vows,” he said, his voice low and steady.

  Courage, Eleanor. She bit the inside of her cheek to calm herself, then carefully repeated the words, binding herself to him through this life, and the next, to a man she loved with all her heart. A man who made her uneasy.

  Sebastian pushed the diamond-encrusted ring past her knuckle and settled it into place. It was done. They were married. Together they accepted congratulations from the vicar and his wife. Aunt Jane hugged her fiercely, then turned to Sebastian.

  “I thought you a weasel of the first order the day you stormed into my drawing room, my lord,” Aunt Jane proclaimed. “But my niece assures me there is more to your character. I must trust her judgment, yet only time will tell if my initial impression of you stands.”

  On that ominous note, they left the church, traveling to a nearby inn where Sebastian had arranged for a wedding supper to be served. Aunt Jane accompanied them and Eleanor was glad of the company. She was not yet ready to be alone with her new husband.

  Though the food was varied and well-prepared, Eleanor scarcely ate a bite during dinner. Sebastian did the same. She could not help but notice that he drank only one glass of wine. Aunt Jane finished the bottle and was snoring quietly in her chair by the time dessert was served.

  “Our rooms have been made ready,” Sebastian said after their uneaten dessert had been cleared. “You can retire whenever you wish.”

  “I think I’ll go now,” Eleanor replied. “It’s been a long day.”

  She nudged Aunt Jane’s shoulder. The older woman came awake slowly, frowning with momentary disorientation. The innkeeper’s wife arrived to show Aunt Jane to her chamber, then returned to escort Eleanor.

  “Our finest room,” the innkeeper’s wife announced proudly, taking Eleanor through a small sitting room into a spacious bedchamber.

  Eleanor muttered her approval, trying to calm the butterflies rioting
in her stomach and ignore the large bed occupying the majority of the space. Set against the wall, the tester bed rested on a pedestal, the blankets and sheets turned down for the night, the green velvet bed curtains untied and waiting to enclose the area.

  With the help of her maid, Eleanor undressed, washed, and donned her usual nightclothes. In deference to it being her wedding night, she added a silk robe in a vivid shade of red, a gift from Aunt Jane. By adjusting the folds of the garment she was able to cover her belly. Mostly.

  Once alone, Eleanor sat in an armchair beside the window. She considered removing a book from her portmanteau but knew there was no way she could concentrate on the words or follow the story. Her nerves simply would not allow it.

  Thinking about the day behind her and the night ahead were not options either. She struggled to fill her head with pleasant, inane images like a litter of puppies or the first buds of spring and had just succeeded in calming her nerves when the door opened.

  Sebastian entered, wearing a dressing gown of sapphire blue. His chest was bare, but she could see the gray of his breeches peeking through when he walked. A faint quiver traveled through her.

  He must have changed in the sitting room, but her thoughts had been so scattered, she hadn’t heard him enter the suite. She watched silently as he shut and locked the door behind him, then went to the hearth. Grasping the poker, he stirred the flames.

  “There’s a distinct chill in the air this evening. Are you warm enough?” he asked.

  Eleanor lowered her gaze. There was a time when he would have smiled at her with heavy-lidded eyes and made a suggestive remark about keeping her warm throughout the night no matter how cold it got. Self-consciously she tugged at her robe, adjusting it over her protruding middle and admitted that her wedding night nerves might very well be in vain.