“Have you seen William yet?” Sebastian asked.
“Is that a coy way of asking if I’ve seen Dorothea? You sly thing. You know they will enter together.” Penelope laughed, and a smile stretched over her freckled face.
Sebastian’s heart panged; he should have inquired about Dorothea. What sort of a husband would he be to her?
“I haven’t seen either of them yet,” Penelope said. “I gather you had a pleasant excursion?”
“Wedding preparations are time consuming.”
Sebastian hoped Penelope did not inquire further; she knew as well as he did that a man had little to do to prepare for his wedding. Going to tailors was the extent of his duties, and as a duke, Sebastian did quite a bit of that already. It was one of the appealing things about living in London, even if it meant running the risk of meeting the odd or dubious character on occasion. Were Sebastian not a new duke, he would not have minded much either, but he had a reputation to establish, and a wedding was as good an occasion as any with which to begin. Even if the wedding would not be large, he wanted the celebration to be accorded proper respect.
He did not want to worry his cousin about the state of the manor.
And then he appeared. His dark head emerged first, looming above the middle-aged men and young women who pervaded the room. The new coat he wore complemented his form as he strolled around the room. His dark eyes flashed. Sebastian realized he was staring, admiring the contours of his chiseled face.
Penelope said something to him, but all he managed to focus on was William.
Sebastian trembled as William turned to him. His knees buckled, his throat dried, and sweat dampened his hands. Has all the moisture in my throat left to go there?
William strode toward them. He avoided Sebastian’s eyes; they had not spoken since their excursion. Sebastian rose from the bench.
“Good evening, Lansdowne.” William bowed.
“Good evening, Captain Carlisle.”
Partygoers flitted past. Sebastian had heard them talking before—in fact, he had even found the ballroom noisy, but at this moment, the room consisted solely of William and himself. The thudding of his heart sounded unimaginably loud, and he hoped William could not hear it.
“Your Grace.” Dorothea curtsied.
Sebastian bowed to her, hoping she had not noticed that he had not seen her until then. Likely she had stood next to her brother the whole time.
William remarked, “You seem to have drawn many supporters.”
“Cousin Caroline is adept at throwing balls. She resembles her mother. I’m not convinced she enjoys the festivities.” He gestured at his cousin, sitting with her sister.
“I imagine she is content. We all have our different paths in life,” William said.
The words were tinged with innuendo. Now that Sebastian suspected William had some interest in men, everything had changed. He struggled to refrain from gazing at him, exploring the planes of his handsome face.
He was soon interrupted from his reverie.
“May I be the first to offer my congratulations, Your Grace?”
Sebastian peered at an older man with a moustache.
“I am a friend of the family. I am sure you will see a lot of me soon.”
“I will?” Sebastian looked over at William, who wore a strained expression on his face. Dorothea bore a similar expression.
William coughed. “May I present Sir Ambrose to you? Sir Ambrose knew my parents in Lancashire. His estate bordered theirs.”
Sebastian smiled. “How do you do?”
“I understand you are the new Duke of Lansdowne,” Sir Ambrose said.
“I am indeed.”
“Such a tragedy about the previous duke. But spying? Can you imagine? What must he have been thinking? The scrapes young people get into.” Sir Ambrose turned to Dorothea. “I am surprised a beautiful woman like you did not choose to go for a more mature man this time.”
Dorothea paled. Tension filled the air.
“My late cousin was a fine man,” Sebastian said. “I will strive to emulate him.”
“Hopefully you will take greater cautions. I would hate for Miss Carlisle to suffer again.”
“His Grace is fully capable of providing for my sister,” William said. “Lewis only sought to protect his country.”
Sir Ambrose scrutinized William. “How fascinating you should rush to the new duke’s defense. But I hope you do not misconstrue my intentions. I mean to continue to be an excellent neighbor to your sister and her husband.”
“How kind of you,” William said, though he did not look pleased. “Excuse me, but Mrs. Hayworth is gesturing to me.”
The others turned to look, but William had already vanished, and Mrs. Hayworth was nowhere to be seen.
“Sir Ambrose recently purchased a manor house next to the Sussex estate,” Dorothea said.
“A castle,” Sir Ambrose corrected. “I like to do things well.”
Sebastian shivered under Sir Ambrose’s assessing gaze. “Few other nobles are in the district. We will need to become acquainted with each other. Strange things are happening in the area.”
“What sorts of things?” Dorothea clutched Sebastian’s arm for support; she had never done so before.
Sir Ambrose smiled, giving every indication that he enjoyed making her uncomfortable. “Oh . . . just things. You’ll discover. And you?” He turned to Sebastian. “How do you find Sussex?”
“Well . . .”
“Do you not enjoy the South Downs? The rolling hills colliding with the sky and the ocean beneath its chalky cliffs?” Sir Ambrose leaned closer.
Sebastian tugged at his cravat, conscious that a glaze of sweat now covered the back of his neck. “That is a very poetic description.”
“Do you think so?” Sir Ambrose smiled. “But tell me, what is your favorite part of Sussex?”
Sebastian shifted his feet, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
Sir Ambrose continued to prod. “The white cliffs? The castle overlooking the channel at Hastings? I am fond of both. Or do you prefer the city?”
Sir Ambrose again watched his face closely, and Sebastian shifted under the other man’s gaze.
“Are you fond of Brighton? The Prince Regent expresses a definite fondness for it. Perhaps you share his thoughts?”
“I must confess,” Sebastian said, breaking Sir Ambrose from his soliloquy of Sussex’s merits, “that I have only ever visited——”
“Oh, come now,” Sir Ambrose interrupted him. “Surely you cannot mean to say you are completely unacquainted with our neighbor to the south?”
“I visited Brighton.” Sebastian stood straighter and strove to regain his dignity. His lack of knowledge had frustrated him before; his ignorance now embarrassed him. He knew so little of the county in which his new home was located, and Sir Ambrose’s gleeful expression hurt him. Often people approached him at balls and at White’s with reminisces about the area. Sussex neighbored London, and many aristocrats owned property in the county, the trend continuing as Brighton grew in importance, only halted now by the threat of Bonaparte.
“But,” Sebastian continued, “even though I was raised in Yorkshire and am new to London, I assure you I take my duties as duke and landowner of Somerset Hall seriously. In fact, I am planning on visiting the estate soon.”
“Indeed.” Sir Ambrose glanced at Dorothea.
“I’m certain Dorothea will join me when the time is appropriate and a suitable chaperone can be arranged.” Sebastian met Dorothea’s eyes, wondering if he had said too much. A smile formed upon her lips.
“Our duty is in Sussex.” Dorothea raised her chin. For a moment, the resemblance to her brother grew clearer as her dark eyes met those of Sir Ambrose defiantly. Clothed in Antwerp blue and off-white, she appeared stronger, more distinct from the other young women.
It was time. Sebastian would rather return to Yorkshire, but he did need to visit Sussex to set up a proper home.
Dorothea turned
to him after Sir Ambrose left. Her voice was low as she asked, “Are you sure you want to visit Somerset Hall so soon?”
“Certainly.” And he was certain. He desired to fulfill his responsibilities. A whole estate awaited him, much larger than the one he had left behind in Yorkshire. Attending balls, while mildly pleasurable, did not help the estate in the least, and Sir Ambrose had implied problems awaited him. “Let’s go to Somerset Hall next week.”
“You will not find removing yourself from the ton too trying?”
“You needn’t be so surprised,” said Sebastian. “Sussex is to be my home. And yours too. It is crucial we visit, even if the season continues on.”
Dorothea beamed. “My time there was very happy. You will enjoy the area.”
Sebastian smiled. Dorothea had once imagined a wonderful life with Lewis there. He could never live up to his cousin, but he would try to make her content. Sir Ambrose’s comment about mysterious happenings on the estate worried him. He wanted to reassure himself that everything was in order.
“I would like to take you to Yorkshire.”
“I always longed to visit there.”
“Have you?” Sebastian smiled; perhaps marriage to Dorothea would be just the thing for him.
“The whole of my country fascinates me. I hold the utmost pride in being born English.”
Sebastian would not be so impolite as to make Dorothea list the reasons why she wanted to visit Yorkshire specifically. He suspected she was simply being cordial. Most people, except those from Yorkshire, did not express a preference for the county. It was all together too far away. At least she had feigned interest. Surely that must indicate a future happy marriage.
“We will leave soon for the estate.” Though he could not control everything, such as his affections for other men, he could resolve to do his duty: he would be a good duke and husband.
Just then, Penelope reappeared.
“I will tell the others. They will be pleased,” Sebastian told his fiancée. Dorothea nodded, excusing herself.
Penelope failed to express pleasure in Sebastian’s plan. “You cannot mean to go to Sussex now.” Penelope threw up her hands. “We are still in the midst of the season! There is much for you to enjoy here. When else will you get to be a new young duke in London?”
“I was a father, Penelope,” said Sebastian. “I am hardly young.”
“Nonsense. You are six and twenty”
“All the same, I need to visit Somerset Hall and the surrounding village. It is, after all, my ancestral home.” He grinned, knowledgeable that being a duke of a particular place was sometimes ridiculous.
“It is outrageous you have never visited,” Penelope admitted.
“How did the family end up getting split between Yorkshire and Sussex anyway?”
“I think your parents did not like my parents.”
“Hmph.” Sebastian led his cousin onto the ballroom floor. “I cannot imagine why.”
“Oh, you are horrible, Sebastian.” She smacked him lightly.
They strolled around the ballroom. Sebastian remembered Penelope had mentioned visiting a friend in the country tomorrow. If she abandoned the season, surely he could as well? He decided to ignore the fact that Penelope would only visit her friend for a brief time.
Sebastian kept expecting to spot William’s dark curly hair, gliding across the floor, weaving the patterns of a minuet, but he seemed to have vanished.
“Did you notice where William went?” Sebastian asked.
Penelope’s eyes crinkled. “Is this code for Dorothea again? She is by the drinks. I am surprised you did not observe her, what with the crowd surrounding to discuss the engagement.”
“No,” Sebastian said. He was not sure why he inquired about William so much, he just knew he longed to speak with him again. He felt so alive, simply knowing William was at the ball.
“I——”
“Oh, I understand.” Penelope smiled. “You want to ask him to make a toast.”
Sebastian bit his lip and seized on the excuse. “Exactly.”
“I saw him go outside to the courtyard. He was frowning most viciously. Perhaps you have offended him by not asking sooner.”
Sebastian nodded, heading for the door.
Chapter Eight
Sebastian pushed through the French doors of the ballroom, greeted by crisp March air. Likely the garden would draw more people in the coming warmer months, but for now, Sebastian was happy to be free of the hum of the crowd.
He descended the marble steps, the lemony scent of paper daphnes perfuming the air. Grecian statues lined the middle of the courtyard, their frozen hands raised to the sky, twisting to reveal their half-naked figures.
Lilacs adorned the courtyard, creating nooks in which to search for William. The shrubs arched out, leaving space for heavy flowers to bloom. For now, the place remained in a state of anticipation, waiting for spring’s magic to transform it. A butterfly flitted in front of Sebastian, a splash of color in the evening light.
As he reached a statue of Aphrodite, a deep voice called his name. His heartbeat quickened.
William sat in a painted pagoda in the corner of the garden. Sebastian approached, his boots grinding on the gravel path. Tall foxgloves peeked from between the densely packed bushes, the strands of bell-like flowers fluttering as he moved past. William looked lost amidst the Oriental carvings of the pagoda, and Sebastian had a sudden urge to comfort him.
Instead he examined the structure. “Chinese?”
“Indian, I think.” William stroked the painted wood, exposing his broad hands. They were the hands of a warrior, coarsened from experiences Sebastian knew nothing about.
He shivered.
“They had these in India,” William continued, “though those were larger. How strange to find one here.”
“Cousin Caroline tells me townhouse gardening is a growing décor movement.”
“She is at the vanguard.”
“Undoubtedly.” Sebastian smiled. “Tell me, is the pagoda nice?”
“The view is more favorable when sitting.”
“Shall I join you?”
William gazed up at him. His eyes seemed tired, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose you are eager to rejoin the party and Dorothea.”
They had not spoken since their meeting in Brighton, and Sebastian hesitated, unwilling to leave now.
William clutched a crystal tumbler in his hand, and the scent of whiskey wafted out. He raised his glass, and Sebastian stared, transfixed by the rose color of his lips. For a moment, he was consumed with a desire to touch them.
What would it feel like to touch the man’s lips with his own? Would they be soft or firm? For one moment, he allowed himself to imagine sucking on the bottom lip, and teasing his mouth open. He envisioned resting his chest against William’s and wrapping his arms around him.
Sebastian blinked. The magnitude of the inappropriateness of his thoughts nearly overwhelmed him. His legs quivered as he entered the pagoda. He settled on the bench beside William. Only a foot separated them. He could reach out and touch William, or William could touch him. The strength of his yearning startled him. His hands shook, and he forced them to lie flat on the seat. He focused his eyes on the painted panel in front of him, as if he could ever pretend that William was not beside him.
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Does the party not enchant you?”
“Many things meant to enchant fail to do so, while those that are forbidden do.”
They were silent. William’s scent, heavy with pine needles, distracted Sebastian. He tensed and struggled to remember to breathe. In and out, in and out, he reminded himself, ensuring his breaths were not too noisy. Sebastian had the strange sense the moment was of the utmost significance, and any words spoken would be etched into his mind forever.
“Why did you leave the festivities?” William asked.
“I wanted to find you,” Sebastian confessed.
“You did?”
<
br /> The air grew hot and uncomfortable. Now was the time to ask him about his encounters with men. William may have denied knowing the colorfully clad man, but Sebastian had witnessed his discomfit. And yet he could not bear the thought of making William uncomfortable, and he resisted the temptation to pry. If he insisted William reveal his own secrets, William might ask about his feelings. He did not want to reveal secrets that would lead to his own humiliation.
Instead, he said abruptly, “I have decided to go to Sussex.”
William tensed beside him. “Whatever inspired you to take that unusual action?”
Sebastian straightened, conscious of William’s disapproval. “It’s my duty. I’m the duke, and I belong at my estate, particularly if the place is in need.”
“I doubt most noblemen possess the same commitment you do, even when already acquainted with the place.”
Heat rose to Sebastian’s face. “Do not mock my desire to help.”
William regarded him. “I trust you will wait until after the threat disappears?”
“You mean Bonaparte?”
“Yes. You’re aware he plans to attack Sussex?”
Sebastian shrugged. “A rumor.”
He refused to stay in London any longer. People had predicted an invasion for years, and it had never occurred. Why should it happen now? Sebastian could not postpone the start of his new life any longer.
William crossed his arms, and his frown deepened. “Planned invasions are not confirmed by the other side beforehand.”
“So I should leave the servants all by themselves? Just because I have not been a duke for long does not mean I do not recognize I have a duty.”
“This is not the time to discover it.”
“Why are you agitated?”
“I am not. But for my—I mean, for Dorothea’s sake . . .” William swallowed. “She would no doubt miss your presence if harm should befall you. She might never recover.”
Sebastian averted his gaze.
“Dear Lord, you cannot mean to say Dorothea intends to join you?”
“She was most amenable to the idea. I believe she feels a responsibility to Somerset Hall—quite an admirable quality.”
The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex Book 1) Page 9
