“But that cannot be true. You are kind and gentle. You are exactly the marrying type. I am certain,” Lady Reynolds exclaimed. “Why, if you have a fault, it is only that you are too humble. You do not realize the catch you would make for some lucky woman.”
“William suffers from extreme modesty. I do not believe I have ever seen him form an attachment.” Dorothea smoothed the folds of her gown.
“It would be unseemly in the army.” William hoped the topic would vanish. It did not.
“You are far too considerate for your own good,” Lady Reynolds said. “Many officers form attachments. Everyone needs to form an attachment.”
“Then I simply have not found the correct woman. His lordship had already married you.” William nodded at Reynolds.
Lady Reynolds giggled and hid her mouth behind her lace fan. Sebastian turned, his face darkened.
“Not everyone is as fortunate as I was to find the right person.” Reynolds placed his hand on the small of his wife’s back and guided her outside. William was grateful to Lord Reynolds for rescuing him.
“Shall we?” Sebastian led Dorothea outside where the carriage awaited them. His sister’s gloved hand grasped onto Sebastian’s arm.
The setting sun shone against Sebastian’s face and hair. The man practically gleamed. William shivered despite himself, wishing he might take the man in his arms again, in awe that at one point he actually had.
“Is anything wrong?” Lady Reynolds asked.
“Just a chill,” William said as the carriage approached. “I am eager to sit inside.”
“You should acquire a new carriage,” Lady Reynolds said to Sebastian, wrinkling her nose. “This one is more to my mother’s taste.”
Rococo flourishes covered the raven-colored coach.
“I recommend a barouche,” Lord Reynolds said. “Most stylish.”
“Nonsense. The top does not even close.” Sebastian stretched out his arm to guide Dorothea into the carriage.
Transfixed by the stunning couple, the now-familiar pain in William’s stomach returned. His sister slid her hand into Sebastian’s.
“What a beautiful couple you make,” Lady Reynolds said, staring at them. William was also riveted.
Dorothea smiled, entering the carriage. Sebastian followed after her, settling beside her.
The others piled in on the other side, and the coach rolled down the drive. William forced himself to ponder the view, to focus anywhere other than resting his eyes on his sister and Sebastian. They did make an elegant couple. He clutched his hat in his hands, running his fingers over the satin rim, hoping he might distract himself.
Lady Reynolds cast a critical eye upon the occupants of the carriage. “Stop.”
The groom, ever dutiful, did so. The coach halted, throwing Sebastian and Dorothea into the seats in front of them. The horses stomped in confusion.
“Whatever is the matter, Penelope?” Lord Reynolds clutched his wife.
“The lovebirds cannot sit next to each other. I take my chaperone duties seriously. Dorothea, you move next to me. William, you sit next to Sebastian.”
William avoided Sebastian’s eyes, reluctant to sit beside him, conscious of the closeness to which they would be subjected. They had avoided being close to each other since they had spoken in the garden.
“I doubt His Grace is likely to take advantage of my sister in front of us all,” William said.
“Just switch seats.” Penelope crossed her arms.
“Better do what she says.” Lord Reynolds shrugged. “I know this from experience.”
“Because I am always right,” Penelope said.
“Most consistently.” Lord Reynolds smiled.
Being in the same coach as Sebastian, and sharing the same seat, no less, caused William’s heart rate to escalate. The man dazzled. Still, he had already protested and could not continue to do so without incurring the wrath of Lady Reynolds and the possible disdain of her husband. There was no good reason why he could not sit next to Sebastian.
Dorothea frowned but did not argue.
William changed seats with his sister, sliding onto the rose seat beside Sebastian, edging as far away from him as possible, praying the ride would be smooth.
The coach started again with a lurch, and William clutched his hat. His sister gazed out the window. He was certain she had mixed feelings about being back at Somerset Hall without Lewis.
Sebastian’s hand lay casually upon the seat between them. Desperate to follow the trail of blond hair on Sebastian’s long hand to his wrist to—heaven help him, much farther—William shifted, conscious of other, even more interesting body parts mere inches from his own.
His cock swelled. Damn. He wiggled on the seat. Sebastian turned his head to him, his eyes wide. All William could focus on were Sebastian’s full lips. All he remembered was the sensation of his mouth on Sebastian’s, and all he imagined were Sebastian’s lips on him. All over him.
He avoided eye contact with Sebastian.
William fixed his eyes on the golden tassels that hung everywhere and the gold embroidery that decorated the rose curtains. The carriage was every bit as hideous as Lady Reynolds claimed.
“This carriage reminds me of everything the French Revolution fought against,” Sebastian said.
William noticed a quiver in Sebastian’s voice, as if Sebastian were also trying to distract himself.
“Indeed,” Penelope said. “Not that one is sympathetic with French revolutionaries.”
Sebastian gave a sharp laugh. “At least now they no longer perform mass executions on a daily basis, though their plan now, to be led by Bonaparte and attack all the nations surrounding them, seems little improved.”
“But it’s working,” William said.
“Working? Why, it’s horrible.” An emotion flickered across Penelope’s face, and she scrunched her eyebrows together.
Dorothea shot him a warning glance. William nodded, mindful both Penelope and Dorothea had lost somebody dear to them in the war.
“I just mean,” William continued, “that Bonaparte has been very successful. He’s conquering all these countries, and he may conquer us soon.”
Reynolds nodded. “There have been many rumors of French spies.”
“And French boats on the coast, if the newspapers are to be believed,” Dorothea said.
William frowned, reminded of the Frenchman who had insisted on sending a love note to Dorothea. Perhaps Dorothea knew more than she indicated.
“So Bonaparte is doing a good job?” Penelope asked.
“For him,” William said. “He’s come a long way.”
“Then it’s good we have you to protect us,” Sebastian said.
The words warmed William.
“I remember taking carriage rides with Marcus when we were first married,” Lady Reynolds said, breaking the silence. “Every turn created excitement. Our thighs brushing together. That jolt of heat. Do you remember that, darling?”
The coach swerved around a bend in the road, forcing Sebastian and William together. He withheld a sigh as the warmth of Sebastian’s leg pressed against his and caused William’s cock to swell again.
For a blissful moment, Willam felt like their bodies communicated in secret. He moved his leg closer to Sebastian’s. A moan covered by a rapid cough escaped from the duke. He eyed Sebastian. A flush appeared on the man’s cheeks, much like the flush that appeared when they were in bed together. Naked, writhing.
William thickened and expanded more. Damn. In a rapid movement, he placed his hat over his lap and swung his head to the window.
He cursed to himself. Hedges. Dark green ones that obscured any countryside. Even the sky was not visible. How could he feign interest in hedges?
Lord Reynolds’s laughter interrupted his thoughts.
Reynolds smiled at his wife. “I am afraid you will have to be less shocking. Most people would not consider references to thighs as being ladylike. You seem to have rendered both Captain Carlis
le and His Grace quite speechless.”
His wife laughed. “I doubt that.”
At least William’s discomfort seemed visible only to Reynolds. He desperately hoped Reynolds had not witnessed everything. Thankfully, Dorothea’s eyes were focused on the window.
William’s mind shifted again to Sebastian. It was impossible for it not to. Sebastian himself seemed to keep moving on his seat, bounced by the rough Sussex road. Or perhaps it was because Dorothea, Lady Reynolds, and Lord Reynolds were all crammed together on a seat intended for two people and were not moving at all.
“Marcus had a barouche,” Lady Reynolds said. “It was all incredibly romantic. I could never permit Dorothea to ride next to Sebastian. Those sideways views . . .”
William could not help himself. He glanced at Sebastian out of the corner of his eye, hoping to catch a glimpse of his handsome face. Sebastian had also turned to him. They looked away quickly, and William’s heart hammered against his chest. Sebastian seemed intent on examining the curtains on his side of the carriage.
“Perhaps I might install new curtains,” Sebastian mused. “These appear worn.”
“And the color is horrendous,” Lady Reynolds said.
“Yes.” William leapt at the opportunity to retrieve his mind from Sebastian’s firm thighs and the delicious manner in which they curved on the seat. “I am quite fond of the color brown or even green.”
Lady Reynolds rolled her eyes. “Bottle green, no doubt. How masculine of you. You should see Sebastian’s bedroom. All bottle green. What do you think, Dorothea? Perhaps coquelicot or even puce.”
“I—I didn’t know that,” William stammered.
“Know what?” Lady Reynolds asked.
“That Sebastian’s room was bottle green. I mean . . .” William paused, conscious of a thick tension in the coach as everybody stared at him.
“Well, why would you know the color of his bedroom?” Lady Reynolds laughed. “No apology necessary, I’m sure.”
“That’s not why I said it,” William mumbled, tugging at his collar.
“He just likes the color,” Reynolds said. “Just like Sebastian.”
William could have sworn that Reynolds’s eyes glinted with more amusement than necessitated.
“Oh, that was Gregory’s choice,” Dorothea said. “That’s the one Sebastian sleeps in.”
William swung his head at her, wondering just how his younger sister knew the color of Lewis’s chamber. Just how true were the rumors about Lewis and her?
“Sebastian and you don’t have a great affinity in tastes just because you like bottle green.”
“I imagine Sebastian likes bottle green too,” Lady Reynolds mused. “What do you think, Sebastian?”
“Me?” Sebastian’s voice trembled.
“Are you as partial to bottle green as William is?”
The air thickened in the coach again. William held his breath as he waited for Sebastian to answer.
“Well . . .” Sebastian turned to him for a moment. “In truth, I have always favored brown the most.”
William’s shoulders sank. Of course Sebastian would not want to claim a similar color choice as him.
“Smoky brown,” Sebastian said, his voice husky, as if awakening from a dream. “Smoky brown is the loveliest color there is.”
Lady Reynolds huffed. “I’m sure I don’t understand men. Smoky brown indeed. Is that even a color?”
The coach swerved again as it mounted a hill.
“We will start going down at any point now.” Lord Reynolds grinned.
“How do you know?” Lady Reynolds asked.
“I’m an expert,” Lord Reynolds said. “And I had the misfortune of talking to Sir Ambrose. His home pleases him remarkably well.”
“He does not give the impression of being the happy homemaker,” Dorothea said, continuing to stare out the window.
“Do these hedges border the baronet’s estate?” William asked, reminded of his journey to Lyngate and the highwaymen who had nearly held the stagecoach hostage. This would have been near where the crime happened.
“Oh, yes,” Reynolds said. “Sir Ambrose’s estate is very large. All of this belongs to him.”
“I see.” William mulled over the new information. Perhaps the highwaymen worked for Sir Ambrose. That might explain why they had only seemed to seek to scare the passengers. Perhaps the baronet did not want a train of soldiers near his property searching for crimes.
He resolved to search Sir Ambrose’s castle. Surely he could find a time to wander away from the other guests. He would not be the ideal guest, though it helped his host was a particularly unpleasant person. He did not know what Sir Ambrose schemed, but he found it altogether too coincidental that he had moved down from Lancashire to go to Sussex, just as Dorothea had.
The coach descended, pushing William and Sebastian forward. Their thighs touched again, and they hastily broke apart. William focused on the view, peeking through the dowager countess’s gold and pink curtains. Huge rosebushes and orchard trees sat outside. Everything was overgrown. Weeds poked out of the grass, marring the beauty.
“It seems we are not the only ones who have had trouble finding staff,” Sebastian said.
“I have the feeling Sir Ambrose likes it that way,” Dorothea murmured.
“I see the baronet has a history of not welcoming visitors,” Reynolds observed.
“Then we must be very honored to have been invited here,” Lady Reynolds said.
“Most certainly,” Sebastian said. “Captain Carlisle, Sir Ambrose is welcoming us in. Is that not kind of him? He will be able to share his impression of the area from an aristocratic viewpoint while Aunt Beatrice is in London.”
“Sir Ambrose is not one of a long line of aristocrats.” William was uncomfortable with the distinction between aristocrats and non-aristocrats.
“He was ennobled a few years ago,” Sebastian said. “He managed to make himself quite wealthy. And I have little to say against him. You remember I would not be a duke if circumstances had not led me to it.”
Sebastian stopped, viewing Dorothea in horror. She had been betrothed to the man who should have been the duke.
His sister lifted her chin and smiled. “No need to worry for my sake. You are quite correct. Both yours and Sir Ambrose’s positions have risen unexpectedly.”
“Apparently the castle is quite impressive,” Lord Reynolds said, changing the subject.
“Is it a real one?” Lady Reynolds asked.
“It is indeed.”
And then they saw it. The carriage rounded a bend, and the first glimpse of the castle appeared. He could not help but be impressed. Constructed of red brick, the castle contrasted with the blue sky and green grass.
“It looks like a fairy-tale castle.” Lady Reynolds craned her neck for a better view.
“Except Sir Ambrose is no Prince Charming,” William said.
“What do you have against the man?” Lady Reynolds asked.
William exchanged glances with Dorothea. He would refrain from revealing all of their history with the man, recounting all the times Sir Ambrose had made his sister uncomfortable with his leering looks and double-edged compliments.
The coach halted in front of the castle, opposite a large moat filled with swans, geese, and water lilies. The drawbridge was down. The doors, guarded by stone lions, towered over them, standing three times taller than William.
The castle itself had many towers, all with arrow slots. William shivered.
They stepped out of the carriage. William stared at the imposing building before him. He turned to take in the surrounding countryside, but no other house was visible, even though the castle’s view stretched for miles.
“I’ll go find the stables, Your Grace,” the driver said to Sebastian. Sebastian nodded, and the others watched the carriage disappear around the corner.
They were all alone except for a bird singing in the distance.
“Shall we?” Lady Reynolds, eve
r bold, sauntered across the wooden drawbridge.
The others followed her to the door. She knocked, and they all waited. They looked around, used to having a footman or butler open the door more expediently.
A few minutes later, a large, muscular man in a butler’s uniform peeked his head out, addressing Sebastian. “I presume you are the Duke of Lansdowne?”
“I am indeed,” Sebastian said.
William exhaled. Did the man think it possible people might show up in evening clothes at the wrong castle?
“This way,” the man said, ushering them through the door. William rather thought the man would likely be more comfortable in the army than in dinner clothes and wondered at Sir Ambrose’s unconventional choice in butler. They strolled through a courtyard, the path lined with tall bushes.
“This way.” The butler ushered them up a sparsely decorated flight of wooden stairs.
Sir Ambrose and Hammerstead stood before them.
“Greetings.” Sir Ambrose bowed, the waist of his military uniform straining around his midsection. William wondered when he had last served, if at all. “Welcome to my lair!”
The others laughed awkwardly, gazing around the dark-paneled room. Medieval weapons hung on the walls, casting strangely shaped shadows. William shivered, exchanging a worried glance with Dorothea.
Chapter Seventeen
Sebastian spoke first. “I must thank you for inviting us.”
“You are quite welcome.” Sir Ambrose leaned toward him. “We neighbors need to stick together.”
Sebastian beamed.
Dread filled William. Sebastian was determined to build a strong acquaintanceship with his host. Perhaps this was only proper, but Sebastian’s apparent need to have Sir Ambrose’s input as a local aristocrat on how things were done was misguided. He grimaced, certain Sir Ambrose would be only too eager to offer bad advice, and that he lay behind all the fear surrounding thieves and ghosts. He only needed proof.
“You have a magnificent estate,” Sebastian said. “I must confess to being rather overwhelmed by the grandeur of this place. I did not expect the castle to be as old. It is most impressive.”
“Yes, it is rather. I leave the other gentry to their manor houses.”
The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex Book 1) Page 18
