The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex Book 1)

by Alexandra Ainsworth

“Oh.” Sebastian turned around to see if he could spot William.

  But the crowd had filled in, and William had vanished.

  The man laughed. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  He headed for a nearby tavern with such authority that Sebastian did not want to disappoint him by not attending. With a sigh, Sebastian followed. He would leave soon, but it would be rude not to join him. And perhaps it would be useful to learn more about Sussex.

  The inn bustled with life, even during the afternoon. Many people entered and exited. Sebastian gazed uneasily at the scattering of women in the pub, some who appeared much as Sebastian imagined he might appear if he squeezed himself into feminine attire. Laughter spilled from the inn.

  “So tell me about your friend,” the stranger said when they were both seated.

  Sebastian looked at him, ashamed to have been distracted by the painted faces of the other patrons. “My friend?”

  “Tall chap. Dark hair, broad shoulders—don’t tell me you’ve forgotten him already?” The man winked.

  “I haven’t forgotten him.”

  The man laughed and clutched at his heart. “Hard to compete with such a handsome man.”

  “You found him handsome?” Sebastian’s cheeks heated.

  The man nodded and leaned closer. “Didn’t you? I saw the way you looked at him.”

  Sebastian’s cheeks burned. That his admiration for William could be visible to a stranger on the street mortified him.

  “I suppose he didn’t like coming to this section of town. Maybe he doesn’t share your tastes. But you’re plenty handsome without him.”

  Sebastian’s eyes widened. He shivered as the man ran his eyes over him. Men didn’t compliment men in this manner. They might compliment a man on the way he tied his cravat or the fabric of his clothes but . . . Sebastian swung his head around, examining the other patrons more thoroughly.

  “First time in a molly house?” The man’s voice was softer, even gentle.

  Sebastian nodded, the term new to him.

  “I remember my first time. It can be overwhelming,” the man said. “But nice too. Just its existence.”

  Sebastian regarded the tavern. Nothing in its appearance distinguished it from any other inn. Most of its clientele seemed to be men; nothing about a male-dominated patronage made it unique from any other. Except perhaps for the gaudily clad people who came in and out of it.

  “What’s a molly house?”

  “Don’t you know?” The man eyed Sebastian curiously again.

  Sebastian stared at him, puzzled.

  The man inhaled. “Where men go to meet other men.”

  Sebastian blinked. And then swallowed. “A place where men meet other men . . . romantically?”

  The man pressed his lips together as if trying to hide a smile. “Perhaps some of them.”

  Sebastian swiveled his head to survey the tavern again. Even the gaudily clad people seemed masculine.

  They were men. Strong, sturdy men. And probably slight, slim men as well, but men all the same. With firm chests and hips that did not curve unduly. Here, in Brighton, removed from all but the most adventurous of the ton, was an establishment dedicated to men who desired other men.

  Men like himself.

  Not that he could admit it to anyone. He was getting married. And all of this was illegal. His body tensed, and his breath fought to retain normality.

  “Sir?” The man looked worried.

  Sebastian blinked. The man’s hand, long and pale, stretched toward him over the table. He watched as it neared his own. Was the man going to touch him? Did men touch other men’s hands? He swallowed, his throat dry.

  “Sebastian.” A harsh whisper interrupted.

  He turned. William. The captain’s eyes blazed, and his face was red. He looked very, very angry.

  “William?” Sebastian rose, knocking the wooden chair down in his hurry. It clattered to the floor, and Sebastian grimaced as the patrons turned to stare.

  “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “I—” Sebastian stammered, looking helplessly around. Shame filled him. What must William think of the garish painted faces and men sitting in pairs? His companion rose from his seat. “Do you need help?”

  “Help?” Against William? “No!”

  Sebastian was conscious of other people in the pub staring at them.

  “Come on,” William said, his voice gruff.

  The next moment, William grasped hold of his arm and tugged him toward the exit, letting go only when the heavy doors of the pub slammed behind them. Sebastian’s knees trembled, and dizziness overwhelmed him.

  “Let’s go to the seafront,” William said, his voice curt. They walked together, though William seemed careful to retain a distance between them. “Don’t ever do that again. What if I hadn’t found you? He was going to touch you. What were you thinking? Entering an establishment like that . . .”

  Sebastian’s cheeks burned. “I didn’t know . . .”

  “You seem so innocent. And then I find you sitting in a molly house, amongst the prostitutes.”

  “I’m sorry. He seemed nice. He just asked for a drink, and you were gone and . . .”

  William’s shoulders tensed. “He may well have been nice. But you shouldn’t be in such areas. For many reasons. Need I remind you that you are getting married? To my sister? What if someone had seen you?”

  “It was an accident, William,” Sebastian pleaded. “I never intended…”

  “Did you…” William swallowed, pain evident in his eyes. “Perhaps you found that man attractive?”

  Sebastian averted his eyes, conscious of the discovery he had made in the tavern. But William had thought he had gone into the tavern deliberately to enjoy the man’s company, and that, that certainly had not been his intention. He shook his head with vehemence.“No, you need not think that.”

  William nodded slowly, though his eyes didn’t leave Sebastian’s face. He swallowed. “Perhaps you just needed to be rescued.”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes at William’s expression. He relaxed his shoulders and surveyed the area again. The sun shone, and beyond the rather less-than-glamorous buildings of Brighton, the ocean peeked out. Sebastian liked being removed from London, safe from scrutinizing eyes.

  Everything was private.

  “Ralph!” A masculine voice rang out.

  William paled. Sebastian wondered how he maintained his handsomeness even with little blood in his face. William was amazing. Even if he did seem unhappy now. Very unhappy now.

  William turned to him. “On second thought, let’s go down this alley, Sebastian.”

  “Ralph!” The voice called out again.

  “We might even do a bit of a run. For exercise.”

  “Exercise? Here?”

  “Yes. You can take the soldier out of the war, but you cannot remove him from his exercise.”

  “That’s terrible.” Sebastian shook his head. William did not appear to be on top form today.

  “Ralph!”

  “Who is shouting?” Sebastian started to swivel round.

  “No! Running—that’s what we should do.” William broke into a trot.

  “Raaalph!”

  Sebastian turned. Whatever commotion was happening, he wanted to be a witness.

  The shouting man waved at him. Well—maybe he was waving at William, who appeared horrified.

  “I missed you,” the strange man said. He was dressed in a compilation of bright colors. His red velvet frockcoat shimmered against his blond hair. Sebastian decided some people might even find him attractive. His clothes were shabby, however. The man’s coat hung loosely over him, its hem frayed. If Sebastian had not known better, he would have called him a prostitute. He resembled the other men he had seen whom William had referred to as prostitutes. Only this man seemed more handsome.

  But that was impossible. What would William know about prostitutes?

  Unless . . . he shook his head. Surely William didn’t ha
ve urges to be with a man? Memories of his own urges rushed toward him.

  William spoke to the man. “I don’t know you. You must be mistaken.”

  “Are you saying you’ve forgotten me?” The man leered and leaned closer to William, batting his eyelashes.

  Sebastian thought the man quite unpleasant. It must be the neighborhood: no wonder William had run away earlier.

  “Or are you with someone else?” The man raked his eyes over Sebastian, searching his face. Sebastian felt exposed. “Are you a couple?”

  “What? With him? Nonsense.” Sebastian straightened, broadening his shoulders.

  William tensed beside him, his face pale. Sebastian did his best to tower over the stranger, wanting to protect William from him. “I’m due to be married.”

  “You are?” The man laughed, scrutinizing him. “When?”

  “Well, we haven’t set a date yet, though I assure you, I will not invite you.”

  “Very well, then.” The man winked. “Ralph, I hope you visit again. You can bring this one.” He laughed. “He’s a handsome lad.”

  “Who is he?” Sebastian asked as the man walked away. Not that he needed to ask. The man was a prostitute, a male prostitute, and he knew William. This explained why William was not attached to any women.

  William sought the company of men. Brave, noble William who fought for his country favored men. Even though it was illegal. Even though society decried it.

  “Nobody.” William’s word came out gruffly, and he did not meet his eyes. “Didn’t I just say I did not know him? The man must have been confused. Perhaps we should return to the solicitor’s office.”

  Sebastian’s heart beat in rapid bursts as he followed him back through the lanes, noticing William peer around at the street as if fearful to happen upon anyone else. Sebastian wanted to ask William more about the encounter, but the anxiety in William’s eyes stopped him. Sebastian would ponder the meeting later. Right now, he wanted William to be happy, and if that meant not discussing the encounter with William, that was fine with him. Just because William slept with men didn’t mean William was interested in Sebastian. And Sebastian was engaged, he shouldn’t be pondering William’s activities at all. He did his best to distract the captain the rest of the way to the town center.

  Chapter Seven

  William fingered the thick, cream paper and scowled at the gold letters printed on the invitation. The pleasure of your company is requested at a formal ball on the occasion of the betrothal of His Grace, the Duke of Lansdowne, to Miss Dorothea Carlisle at the home of Lady Caroline Dobson. The letters curved across the paper in elaborate loops. Everything radiated tastefulness despite the unpalatable missive.

  He crumpled the invitation in his hand before remembering that somebody might ask for it at the door. Let them ask. He was the bride’s brother; there was no way he could avoid attending the ball. He would be fortunate if he was not called upon to provide a speech proclaiming his sister’s fortuity in making a match with Sebastian and commenting on the overwhelming likelihood of a blissful life for them both.

  “William.” His sister entered the drawing room. Her eyes darted to the cream envelope, and he tightened his fist around the crinkled invitation. “Are you not pleased? Isn’t it kind of Cousin Caroline to arrange the ball for Sebastian and me?”

  “Most kind. I imagine she feels relieved to stop chaperoning you.”

  “Must you always sound like an older brother?”

  “Of course,” William grumbled, displeased his sister had not dismissed the notion of needing a chaperone. The thought of Sebastian as a lusty suitor needing to be monitored made his heart stop.

  “Anyway, we aren’t to be married until the end of the season. We’ll still be in need of some chaperoning.”

  William bit his lip to stop from moaning. He said good-bye to his sister, grabbed his coat and hat, and headed out the door to Hyde Park. Sometimes riding was just what he needed. He tore down the steps of the townhouse.

  He didn’t understand why Sebastian was making such a great deal about the wedding; in his experience, most people just got married in the morning and enjoyed a pleasant wedding breakfast together.

  William soon mounted Gabriel, more comfortable now that he soared five feet over the rest of the ton. He missed riding horses regularly. He supposed he even missed the war. Well, if Sir Ambrose was right, the French would invade soon whether the English liked it or not. William could ride horses then and carry a pistol. He clenched his thighs, putting his horse into a trot.

  As William rounded the corner, he spotted Sir Ambrose. Just the man he did not want to encounter. He veered his horse away, but a curricle came rushing past, carrying some young nobleman seeking to impress the star debutante of the season, who was riding next to him. If her screams indicated anything, his ploy seemed to be successful.

  Sir Ambrose waved. William’s attempt to avoid being seen had failed. He considered feigning temporary blindness, but decided against it since a large portion of the ton were now out in the park. It was hard to pretend to be blind successfully while riding a horse.

  Soon, Sir Ambrose had maneuvered his white stallion next to William. No doubt the baronet thought himself heroic. How did the man insist on seeing himself as a champion of everything good and noble when anyone could tell he behaved abhorrently?

  “Are you enjoying the pleasant weather?”

  William stared at him. Surely the man did not intend to be amicable? Last time he had met him, Sir Ambrose had implied Dorothea’s chastity was not intact. He sighed, wondering if Sir Ambrose knew about the nature of Dorothea’s friendship with his nephew.

  William forced his gaze at the sky. Flocculent clouds shifted above. He found them much more interesting than speaking to the baronet.

  “I thought I might find you here. Horses—and everything related to them—always fascinated you.” Sir Ambrose leaned closer, and his steel eyes darkened. “Tell me, is your sister truly to be engaged again?”

  “She is engaged.” William did not like the implication that Sir Ambrose had sought him out. Perhaps curtness might succeed in driving him away.

  “Ah.” Sir Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. “You gave me the impression she remained in mourning.”

  “She is.”

  So far the plan to be terse failed to remove him.

  “And already engaged? How odd. I hope she doesn’t simply desire to be a duchess. Such an aspiration would make her look most common. I’m sure people will gossip. Marrying the heir to her dead cousin’s title. All very déclassé.”

  “He died before obtaining the title.”

  “So he did. He never reached his potential. So tragic.”

  William wished the man would not always smile when talking to him about unhappy events. He found it disconcerting. Were his sister not going to move near Sir Ambrose, he might articulate this, but there was little point. He didn’t want to make Dorothea’s eventual life in Sussex difficult by insulting her closest neighbor. “I must go now.”

  “Yes, I suppose you must prepare for tonight’s event. Will we find you with a woman on your arm? Your sister has been engaged twice before you have displayed any interest in the fairer sex. Your reluctance is beginning to become mysterious. I wouldn’t want people to talk about you. You know how the ton are.”

  William inhaled sharply and decided to ignore Sir Ambrose’s statement. “I will see you tonight, then.”

  “You certainly will.”

  William gave a short bow and then turned his horse away, galloping from the park.

  *

  Sebastian took his carriage to Cousin Caroline’s home, the lights of London flickering past him. The visit to Brighton and the encounter with the overly familiar gentleman, had shaken him. Did the captain prefer men? Sebastian had heard rumors of boys in school who did unspeakable things, but he always thought that was to replace the lack of female company. That William, an adult with access to women, might still seek out men was a revelation.
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  William had made an excuse to rush back to London early on the mail coach while Sebastian saw his solicitor. The man had been called away because of complaints the manor was haunted, and Sebastian continued to worry about Somerset Hall. Hammerstead’s comments to him about the demise of the estate still rattled him.

  His groom coughed.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I was lost in thought.”

  Sebastian hurried from the carriage. How much had changed since his meeting with Aunt Beatrice earlier that month. Was marrying Dorothea the right thing to do?

  He walked into Cousin Caroline’s home, greeted by throngs of people, all of whom seemed intent on congratulating him. He forced a smile as the guests swarmed around him, shaking his hand and slapping his back. A few of them praised Dorothea’s beauty and winked at him.

  Penelope’s chestnut hair gleamed against her emerald gown.

  Excuse me,” he said, removing himself from his well-wishers to approach her. Her gown swayed as she turned to greet him.

  “Will you do me the irresistible honor of reserving a dance?”

  His cousin rolled her eyes. “Of course. You know the engagement will shatter some women’s hearts.”

  “You flatter me.”

  “I don’t mean to; it is the truth. You are quite the catch.” Penelope’s eyes glimmered, and she took a sip of her punch.

  Sebastian shrugged and concentrated on selecting a dance for them. “It’s just because of the title.”

  “And because you are rather handsome. Don’t deny it. Remember, I’m related to you. It’s a way for me to praise myself without being completely revolting.”

  Sebastian laughed. “You are most charming.”

  He scanned the ballroom, running his eyes over the pale rose walls, cream crown molding, and enormous chandeliers. Crystals hung even from the sconces. Everything exuded lightness and airiness. People continued to stream through the large cream and gold doors. Perhaps his arrival had been unfashionably early.

  A few of the pushy society mamas, Mrs. Hayworth and Lady Woodlock, entered with their daughters. He nodded to them. He would need to ask them and their daughters for dances. Spending an evening chatting with his cousin would be frowned upon. He sighed. The end of the season would be joyful.