Sebastian ordered himself to stop his insanity, his self-pity. He couldn’t continue to pine over someone he would never have regardless of how deeply he loved her. In addition, he refused to drink himself into oblivion every time he thought of her. Lord knows if he did that, he’d drink himself to an early grave.
There was a faint knock on his door. Sebastian groaned in reply. His butler entered carrying a tray of coffee and a plate of dry toast. He set it upon the antique table in front of the closed drapes.
“Winston, you are a saint,” Sebastian muttered before his butler nodded then exited his master’s suite in silence.
Sebastian downed his coffee then bathed in welcome silence, emerging from his solitude feeling much more civilized with one resolution planted in his mind: he must do his damnedest to forget Gwendolyn MacAlistair. He would accomplish this feat by jumping back into his old life, the bachelor’s life he had abandoned so long ago.
Gwen believed him to be the same man he had been years before, carousing with voluptuous, eligible women of the ton so why the hell shouldn’t he behave like it?
The first item on his agenda was to open his London townhome and spend each of his evenings gambling at White’s, attending the theater, and enjoying every other activity he could think of. He’d do his damnedest to ensure that there would be no free time to pine over the woman he lost.
Why wait? Tonight would be the perfect evening to begin. He yanked the bell pull, and once his valet entered the room, his pulse quickened as he issued orders to prepare his evening finery and ensure his coach would be prepared for an outing.
In keeping with the theme of the day, Sebastian stalked into his masculine office. Keep busy and you’ll be fine.
He sat behind his massive mahogany desk, removed his spectacles from his jacket pocket and slipped them onto the bridge of his nose. Just as he’d picked up his first contract to review, his butler knocked on the door.
“Yes, Winston, what is it?”
“Excuse me, Your Grace. A letter came for you, but I’m afraid the messenger insists on handing it to you personally.”
“Who is it from?” Sebastian asked over the top edge of the document he held to read.
“He says it’s from his mistress, Your Grace.”
Frustrated, Sebastian slammed the contract on his desk. “And who the hell would that be?”
His butler appeared unnerved as he shifted his weight before replying, “Miss Gwendolyn MacAlistair, Your Grace.”
Sebastian’s pulse quickened. “Send him in,” he snapped, his mind racing.
A man he recognized as Gwen’s butler strode into his office with an air of confidence.
“Excuse me, Your Grace.” He bowed, then approached the desk, handing Sebastian the letter. “Miss MacAlistair dispatched me to deliver this missive to you directly. She specified that no reply is necessary.”
Sebastian nodded, not trusting his voice. The man bowed before exiting the room, closing the door behind him.
The pounding in his head returned in full force. Good God, she wrote to me. Sebastian ripped the seal and read the missive at least three times before placing it upon his desk. He then picked it up again, reading it a fourth time before rising and walking to his window.
He surveyed his lush, colorful grounds, but all he could think of were five specific words in Gwen’s note – the five most important words to him.
I will always love you.
With that one statement, his earlier plans to forget her vanished. Of course he could try to numb the pain of living without her, but there would always be a hole in his heart where she had once been.
Sebastian wracked his brain for a solution. Gwen wouldn’t elope with him; therefore, he must obtain her father’s permission for their union. But how? Lachlan MacAlistair would never consent, not easily that is. Sebastian must convince the old man that he had no choice.
“Bloody hell.” Sebastian cursed aloud as he picked up a jade paperweight from his desk and rolled it between his palms.
Think! What are you going to do? What can you do?
Slowly the seeds of deception were planted. If Lachlan believed that his daughter had been compromised, he would have no choice but to insist the guilty party marry Gwen to avoid a scandal. So, Sebastian’s scheme took root.
With her wedding less than a month away, and if Lachlan was as manipulative as Tristan believed, the old man would probably try to pawn the imaginary child off as Dunlop’s. Since it was too late for him to seduce her, Sebastian would proclaim he had compromised Gwen weeks ago. If asked when and where this fictional sin was committed, he would mention the time he’d escorted Gwen home following the rainstorm. It wasn’t much of a stretch of his imagination for Sebastian had wanted to take her virginity then and on many more occasions.
If, God forbid, Lachlan mentioned her imaginary defiling to Gwen, the memory of lying on the grass with breasts bare as Sebastian’s mouth explored every inch of them just days before should be sufficient to garner a blush from her. She may even look guilty enough to convince the man that the unthinkable did indeed happen.
Sebastian considered the old man’s health. Lachlan appeared fit the evening prior but, if he were indeed ailing, a possibility existed that Sebastian’s duplicity could cause him to suffer a relapse. Without hesitation, he composed a note to his family doctor, requesting they meet at Ainsley as a precaution.
His conscience told him his actions were wrong. He was, after all, manipulating people the way his father had. As God was his witness, Sebastian had long hated the man for it.
What other choice do I have?
Sebastian wracked his brain for any other option but none presented itself. Besides, Sebastian convinced himself, this situation was different. He loved Gwen, and his father never loved anyone but himself. Sebastian was protecting Gwen. He was also protecting his own heart. After fighting against love it had found him and Sebastian refused to let it escape. Besides, he would tell her the truth. However, before doing so, he’d give her time to discover what he had known all along.
They belong together.
Sebastian would move heaven and earth to marry Gwen and would love her more than life itself.
As God is my witness I will make this up to her.
Striding from his office, Sebastian walked with determination to his waiting carriage, his mind racing with the particulars of his plan. He arrived at Ainsley and pounded at the bronze doorknocker, his heart lodged in his throat.
The butler opened the door and Sebastian bounded into the foyer. “I’m here to see your master.”
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but he instructed me that none of the family is accepting visitors today.”
“Why not?”
The butler’s eyes widened, an indignant expression spreading over his features. “I don’t ask such questions, Your Grace.”
Sebastian paused, fighting to keep his temper in check. “At the very least you can tell me if he is well.”
“Yes, Your Grace. My master appears in acceptable health.”
Sebastian peered into the hallway. “Where is his daughter?”
“In her rooms, Your Grace. She hasn’t come down yet, aside from handing me the letter I delivered to you earlier.”
“I must speak with Mr. MacAlistair now.”
“Your Grace, he instructed—”
“Yes, you’ve already told me. What is your name?” Sebastian spoke with cool authority.
“Norris, Your Grace.”
“You’ve done your job well, Norris, and I will take full responsibility for disturbing him. Tell him I am here.” Sebastian’s tone brokered no argument. He wasn’t leaving without a betrothal arrangement.
Norris bowed his head. “Yes, Your Grace.”
After waiting for what seemed like an hour, the butler returned at last and escorted Sebastian to Lachlan’s second floor study. Norris rapped on the door before opening it and waving Sebastian inside.
“You’re dismissed, Norris.
” Lachlan hissed.
Sebastian entered and spotted Gwen’s father sitting on an overstuffed chaise, his boots resting on the matching ottoman. He closed the leather-boundbound volume he’d been reading and placed it on his lap.
The healthy pink tinge in the man’s cheeks provoked a sigh of gratitude. Although Lachlan looked fatigued, he seemed quite alert with a sharpness about his eyes. However, in spite of the man’s robust physical appearance, Sebastian remained relieved that he’d instructed Dr. Danbury to meet him nonetheless.
Lachlan’s failure to verbally acknowledge his presence caused an annoyance to pulsate through Sebastian’s veins. He was certain it was a deliberate snub.
Their meeting was off to a bad start.
Damned if he’d let his opponent see weakness, Sebastian crossed the room, his posture tall and countenance proud, before halting a couple of paces from the old man.
“I’m here to discuss your daughter.”
Lachlan’s response was hostile. “We have nothing to discuss where Gwendolyn is concerned!”
“I disagree with you.” Although Sebastian bristled at Lachlan’s hostile tone, he remained composed, determined to control their summit. “There is much we need to discuss.”
Lachlan stood and for a moment it seemed as if he were about to lunge at Sebastian. Instead, he pointed a crooked finger at him. “I will never allow my daughter to marry you. You may be a duke, but that title means nothing to me. When I look at you, I see your father. You are a little more polished than he was, you seem to possess an air of respectability, yet the same man lies beneath.”
Sebastian clenched his jaw. He wished he could challenge the man to pistols at dawn for his scathing rebuff, yet he would settle for beating him raw.
“What?” Lachlan scorned. “The great Duke of Davenport is at a loss for words?”
Sebastian grinned, predicting it would hurt Lachlan’s ego. “Why do you hate me so much, old man? Did my father make one of his conquests out of someone you loved?”
He’d spoke half-heartedly, his words meant to ridicule, yet the visible change in Lachlan’s countenance told Sebastian he struck a nerve.
For just the briefest moment, the elder man’s eyes widened, revealing a hint of vulnerability. But Lachlan rallied, fury flashing in his dark eyes as he took several steps backwards. “My daughter will never be the Duke of Davenport’s conquest.”
“No, she will be my wife.” Sebastian’s scorching gaze locked with Lachlan’s and the man’s lower lip trembled. It was slight, but evident nonetheless.
Lachlan’s cheeks drained of their color. It was the first time since Sebastian’s arrival that the man appeared ill. His vulnerability soon vanished, replaced by an expression like that of a wild animal stalking its prey. “Unlike you, your father was never a lovesick fool.”
Sebastian no longer suffered from remorse for the lie he was about to tell. Lachlan MacAlistair didn’t deserve his daughter’s devotion. Clearly, she was nothing more than a pawn in his little game of love and marriage.
“I’m neither lovesick nor a fool.” Keeping his demeanor casual yet confident, Sebastian commandeered the chaise that Lachlan had earlier vacated. He tipped his head to the side in a barb then asked, “Can the same be said for you?”
“Why you—”
Sebastian clucked his tongue. “Now, now. Don’t insult your future son-in-law. Sit and listen, old man. I’m about to tell you how our little saga will end.”
Color painted Lachlan’s cheeks a deep crimson. He stood still, defiant.
“Have it your way.” Sebastian waved a hand at the man. “Stand if you’d like; however, make no mistake, I will marry your daughter. She is, after all, carrying my child.”
The horrible falsehood flew about the room like a mighty gust of wind gaining momentum with each passing second.
Lachlan’s fisted hand sliced through the air with a loud whoosh. “You bastard!”
Sebastian ignored the man’s outburst. “Gwen’s betrothal to Dunlop will be called off at once.”
“What in bloody hell do you think will happen to her reputation once word leaks out that her betrothal to Keir is revoked and she is to marry you?” It was the first time Lachlan seemed concerned about his daughter’s well being. “The logical assumption will be that you compromised her.”
“I will handle the gossip,” Sebastian assured him.
“God damn it!” Gwen’s father paced the length of the room then stopped and whirled around to face his adversary. “You forced her, didn’t you?”
Sebastian leapt from his chair with so much force it slid backward several inches. “I did no such thing! Get that straight and never again make such an absurd accusation. Think me a bastard if you must. Think me unscrupulous or unworthy, but never think me a rapist.”
He stood inches away from Lachlan, boring into the man’s eyes with his venomous glare. “I will spend the rest of my life atoning for my sins, but make no mistake, rape isn’t one of them.”
Lachlan stomped towards the fireplace then leaned against the mantle as if for support.
“When did this occur?” Lachlan asked without the courtesy of facing him.
Sebastian muttered under his breath; it was just as he had predicted. The loathsome man was calculating his daughter’s due date knowing full well that if the date of her seduction were close enough to her wedding date with Keir, Dunlop would raise the child as his. A wave of hatred unlike any Sebastian had ever known washed over him.
“Gwen and I became intimate days after the Stocktons’ ball,” Sebastian countered.
Lachlan scoffed. “You can’t expect me to believe that.”
“I don’t care what you believe.” Sebastian found this line of questioning infuriating. He half-expected the man to ask how the seduction took place. What must he do next, he wondered, describe in detail the act of making love?
With a great effort not to reach across the room and slap Gwen’s father, Sebastian responded with the story he had rehearsed on his ride to Ainsley. “It occurred on my grounds, the day Gwen got caught in the rain.”
Lachlan marched over to the bell pull and rang for his butler. “I will not allow you to be present when I speak with my daughter. Wait downstairs.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Sebastian shook his head, his tone vehement. “And you will not, under any circumstances show Gwen any disrespect.”
“I will do as I damned well please!” Lachlan boomed.
“Not if you value your teeth,” Sebastian said in a controlled voice as he walked toward his foe. “If you fail to treat your daughter, the future Duchess of Davenport, with the respect she deserves, I will knock every blasted incisor out of that mouth of yours. I’ll make sure you won’t utter a word for at least a month. Have I made myself clear?”
Lachlan spat, his spittle landing close to Sebastian’s shoes. “Respect? No one will respect her once the gossip reaches the ton. She can’t even be married in a church for God’s sake. She will be condemned by everyone.”
“Don’t say another word about condemnation. This whole conversation could have been avoided if you had listened to her last night instead of playing God with our lives.” Sebastian cursed Lachlan to his rotting core.
“How in the hell do you know about our conversation?”
Sebastian crossed his arms, his stare unswerving. “You don’t know your daughter at all.” He then turned away from Lachlan, disgust forming a large, hard knot in his throat.
The knock on the door announced Norris. Once he entered the room, the poor man took an immediate step backward, as if the tension between the two men before him was palpable.
“Bring my daughter to me,” Lachlan ordered.
“Yes, sir.” The butler cleared his throat, “Excuse me, Your Grace?”
Standing with his hands on his hips and staring at the fireplace grate, Sebastian nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Yes.”
“Dr. Danbury wanted me to inform you that he’s waiting for you
in the parlor.”
“Thank you, Norris.”
Sebastian caught sight of Lachlan’s gaping mouth and shrugged. “I came prepared in case your health failed.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed to mere slits as he strode to his chaise then collapsed, in defeat, Sebastian hoped.
They awaited Gwen’s arrival in silence as tension, like a raging inferno, crackled throughout the room.
Gwen opened the door to her father’s study, her heart thumping at a maddening pace. She took pains to make her tone sound strong as she entered the room. “I’m glad you called for me father as I was just coming to find you. There is something we must discuss.”
Sebastian cleared his throat as he closed the door behind her.
Gwen’s heart skipped several beats at the sight of him. What would cause him to meet with her father alone? The room began to spin as she crossed to the fireplace mantle and leaned against it for support.
“I-I apologize,” she said, struggling to regain her composure. “I was unaware you were here.”
Her mind raced. Dear God, he’s here! The room continued to spin and she silently urged her taut nerves to settle down before she swooned.
Sebastian’s eyes remained fixed on hers. His expression was loving, concerned, protective and almost too much for her to endure.
“Be seated Gwendolyn.” Her father’s frosty tone gave her pause. His stare was cold and intense and a shudder wracked her body at what was to come.
She obeyed, walking on weak knees to the sofa. “What is the meaning of this, Papa?”
The door burst open. All the occupants turned their heads and stared as Tristan swaggered into the study.
“Norris said there was some sort of family meeting afoot.” Tristan’s gaze traveled from his sister and father to their guest. He then nodded to the Duke. “Forgive my abrupt entrance, Sebastian. It’s always good to see you. What is all this about?”
“This doesn’t concern you, Tristan,” Lachlan bellowed. “Leave at once.”
Tristan strode in defiance to the sofa, joining his sister. “You know I don’t take orders well, Father.” He squeezed Gwen’s hand in support.
Dance with Deception: Scandalous Secrets, Book 1 - Exclusive Edition (Scandalous Secrets - Exclusive Edition) Page 12
