“Lord Hadley Fullerton, may I present my wife, Beatrice Hennessey, Marchioness Coldhurst.”
It was the first time Sebastian had ever seen Hadley Fullerton at a loss for words. He quickly hid his shock. “I see we do have a lot to catch up on.” But he stepped forward and took Beatrice’s hand and raised it to his lips, bowing over it slightly.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Coldhurst. You are a very lucky woman to have captured Sebastian’s heart.”
Beatrice merely smiled and acknowledged his greeting. “Please, as a dear friend of my husband’s, call me Beatrice.”
Sebastian escorted her up the enormous steps and through the imposing doors into the house. “Has everyone else gathered, or shall we wait until later?”
“I did expect you earlier this afternoon—thank you for sending the note. I thought you would be riding down first thing, not taking the carriage, because my missive explained how urgent the situation was.” Hadley was directing them toward the formal drawing room. “The others have finished dining and are relaxing over a drink.” He turned to Beatrice. “As this is your wedding day, Lady Beatrice, would you prefer to freshen up before meeting everyone?”
“Perhaps a few minutes to freshen up would be appropriate.” She needed to calm her racing nerves. As a daughter of a baron, she’d been brought up with wealth, but nothing like this. The house was almost as intimidating as her husband.
The entrance hall was almost as large as her mother’s entire house. The grand staircase dominated the entrance, rising on and on up into the many stories of this grand castle, and there were so many chandeliers it reminded her of a ballroom.
Hadley introduced her to Lord Markham’s butler, Andrews, and the portly housekeeper, Mrs. Tucker, who stepped forward and beamed a good-natured smile. “Newlyweds, how lovely. I would be happy to show Lady Coldhurst to her suite,” she said.
With a polite smile at Sebastian, Beatrice allowed Mrs. Tucker to lead her upstairs. The housekeeper must have sensed her nerves, because she filled the silence as they made their way up several flights of marble stairs: “Lord Markham is to be married tomorrow. Two lots of newlyweds—how marvelous! Bless my soul, since his burns at Waterloo, I thought we’d never see this day. And now … I would never have believed Lord Coldhurst would beat him to it. I suppose the gentlemen are coming to that age where the need for family and children is prominent in their minds.”
Beatrice didn’t know what to say to that, for the housekeeper was probably correct. It was the reason Lord Coldhurst had agreed to her proposal so quickly.
It seemed an eternity of walking down rosewood-paneled corridors lined with huge portraits of the former Earls of Markham, so many twists and turns she’d never remember the way back, before they came to a wing of the house on the south corner. Sunlight flooded the landing from three very large arched stained-glass windows depicting Christ’s Last Supper. She gave a shiver in the warm glow.
The bedchamber she was shown into was opulent to the extreme, with its red and gold brocades and damasks, and walls hung in watered silk.
Mrs. Tucker indicated a door on the far right. “That leads to Lord Coldhurst’s suite. He always has these rooms when he stays with his lordship.”
Beatrice momentarily wondered whom Sebastian had previously shared this room and bed with. Why she should care she had no idea.
She couldn’t, however, repress a small shudder when she glanced at the huge bed sitting in the middle of the room. Averting her gaze, she swept her eyes to the other side of the room and took in the large fireplace where a plush chaise lounge and a pair of Chippendale wing chairs sat before the fire. For refreshment, decanters of brandy and sherry rested on a side table, while on another table, between two tall windows, stood a vase filled with beautiful roses.
“We were not expecting Lord Coldhurst to bring company. It will take but a moment for one of the servants to get the fire lit and your gowns unpacked.”
“There is no rush, the sun has been shining all day and the room is quite warm.” Or maybe it was the sudden heat sweeping her body at the thought of sharing a bed with Sebastian.
To take away some of her nervousness, she walked across the room and bent to smell the fragrance from the roses.
“If you will permit me, my lady, I will fetch warm water for you to wash. Would you like some refreshments and a little bit of supper served in your room, or would you like to join the others in the drawing room immediately? I can bring a tray there if you’d like.”
Was she brave enough to go down and meet all of Lord Coldhurst’s friends? She suddenly knew it would be worse to stay sitting in this room waiting for his arrival.
“I shall freshen up and go down. A tray in the drawing room will be fine. I’m sure my husband is in need of sustenance too.”
“Did your Abigail accompany you, my lady?”
Beatrice shook her head. “No. I only married this morning and I had no chance to organize an Abigail to come with me.”
She could ill afford personal servants before her marriage. She did not want to take the money away from her mother or sisters. In addition, now that she wasn’t in control of her family’s finances, she didn’t know how she was going to continue to support Lizandra’s son. The first thing she must do tomorrow morning was talk to Sebastian and find out how much pin money he would consent to give her. If any.
“If you wish,” the housekeeper offered kindly, “I shall send Lady Serena’s personal maid to help you dress before you go down.”
“That would be most appreciated, thank you.”
Beatrice turned back to the window to gaze down on the manicured grounds below. Finding no solace in the sight, she reviewed her gown, the only gown she owned worthy of her new title, and she wondered if it could be pressed before she had to go downstairs.
She hoped Sebastian did not come to her room until she was presentable once more. The less time she spent with him right now, the better. The large bed seemed to mock her. Thankfully, whatever the reason for rushing down to Dorset, it would appear that Sebastian did have something on his mind. And it did not look as if it were his need for a pleasurable pursuit of any sort.
“Would it be possible to press my gown while I wash and refresh myself?”
“Of course, my lady. Let me help you out of it.”
The kindly housekeeper acted as maid and soon Beatrice was stepping out of her gown and a robe had been found to cover her.
She smiled as the servants scurried round her room, ensuring the fire was lit and the room had all she needed, including fresh water, sweet-smelling soap, and soft towels. The water soothed her nerves slightly.
As she sat waiting for her lady’s maid, she wished she hadn’t asked for her gown to be pressed; for some reason she desperately wanted to go downstairs and find out why they’d had to rush here.
Following closely behind Hadley, Sebastian entered the expansive drawing room and was exceedingly surprised to find three of the other Libertine Scholars present. Only Grayson was missing.
The six Libertine Scholars had earned their name, and reputations, while attending Oxford. The men took learning seriously, and equally seriously their carousing.
But his gaze was drawn to Serena, who sat demurely on the couch, a cup of tea in hand, dressed as the duke’s daughter she was rather than the lowly governess she had been portraying while in the Caribbean. Christian, Lord Markham, sat relaxed beside her, his arm behind her on the couch as if trying to shield her from any harm that might befall her.
A hearty slap on his back from Maitland Spencer, the Duke of Lyttleton, broke his gaze. There was lots of handshaking, hugging, and welcoming home for several minutes before he had a chance to take a seat.
Arend Aubury, Baron Labourd, handed him a glass of brandy and said, “You best drink it down. I swear you’ll need it.”
Sebastian wasn’t overly concerned at Arend’s dire warning. He tended to think everything looked dark and dangerous. He was full
of conspiracy theories.
Hadley interrupted him. “Before we tell him the tale that is beginning to unravel, Sebastian has some news of his own, don’t you, Sebastian?”
Sebastian felt heat invade his face and he wanted to wipe the mocking smile off Hadley’s face. “I do have some news of my own, thank you, Hadley.” He cleared his throat. “As of this morning, I am a married man.” He took the gasps and chortles in his stride.
It was Christian who spoke first. “Well, this is a development. Who would have thought that with you stuck in Jamaica, you’d beat me to the altar? Who is the lucky lady?”
“It’s priceless …” All heads turned to Sebastian at Hadley’s mocking tone. Sebastian simply took another large gulp of brandy.
Christian, noting his discomfort, said, “Ignore Hadley. I’m going to marry Serena tomorrow morning, and I’m pleased you have returned to share in our special day. However, we’re sorry to have missed yours.”
“It was rather sudden and of no real importance.” Sebastian didn’t want a fuss. It wasn’t a love match like Serena and Christian’s, thank God.
Maitland scoffed, “Heaven forbid it is another love match. These two make a man want to drink himself into oblivion,” and he looked at Christian and smiled, taking the harshness from his observation. “Who is the lucky lady then, and when did this … happy event take place?”
Sebastian knew his cheeks must be dark red by now. “If you must know, I’ve married Beatrice Hennessey this morning.”
The silence that greeted his announcement was stifling. Serena looked around the room at the men in puzzlement, obviously not understanding the significance of Beatrice’s surname.
Maitland spoke slowly. “That’s taking guilt a little too far, don’t you think, my friend?”
“You know the state of her family’s finances. You know that her brother Baron Larkwell was about to marry and save the family from the poorhouse.”
Christian said, “But I thought you sent them money while you were in the Caribbean. It was a small fortune if I recall.”
“It wasn’t until I returned to England that Miss Hennessey made me fully aware of how indebted the family was. We came to an arrangement that suited us both, so I want to hear nothing more on the matter, and you are to treat Beatrice with respect.”
“I don’t understand,” Serena said. “Am I supposed to know who Beatrice Hennessey is and why Sebastian should feel any guilt?”
Sebastian turned to her. “Beatrice is the sister of Doogie Hennessey, Baron Larkwell. Doogie is the man I killed in a duel several months ago.”
“Well, where is she, Sebastian? I hope you haven’t hidden her away.” Serena set down her cup of tea. “You’ve only just married her, for goodness’ sake. You should be on your honeymoon, not excluding her.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding the laughter in Arend’s and Hadley’s eyes. “Beatrice is exhausted after such a tiring day. She is freshening up before facing you.”
Arend smirked.
“You have something to say?” Sebastian snapped, his patience at being the jester in the room wearing thin.
“If she’s like every other woman, I bet she’s enthusiastically preparing herself for your wedding bed.”
If only. “I killed her brother,” he said softly. Arend hung his head.
She would not be eagerly waiting in his bed. Sebastian doubted she ever would. Beatrice wasn’t like any woman he’d ever met. She didn’t like him, nor did she respect him, and she definitely did not desire him. She had married him purely to save her family.
“Ignore him. I for one would love to meet her. It will be a nice change to have another female in our midst. However, I’m sorry that she’s walked into this dangerous mess.”
Serena’s words caught his attention. “Mess—dangerous. If everyone is finished grilling me on my personal life, could you tell me what is so urgent that I had to rush down here on my honeymoon, a day after I arrive home, and how is it that Serena is now able to use her name with no danger of being found guilty of murder?”
Christian’s face broke into a lovesick smile. “You haven’t heard.”
“I’ve been back in England just over two days. In that time I have saved a woman from drowning, I’ve lumbered myself with a wife, and my friends now tell me I’m in grave danger. Forgive me if I haven’t had time to catch up on society gossip.”
“There is no need to be so irritable,” Christian replied. “I’ll give you the short version. Serena never killed Dennett. Dennett arrived wanting to take Serena home, and I refused to hand her over. We dueled. During the duel an assassin shot Serena. Dennett then tried to kill me when I was tending Serena; however, Arend managed to kill him first.”
Sebastian only just kept his mouth from dropping open. Once he’d had time to digest the astounding course of events, he said, “Good news then—Dennett’s dead and Serena’s alive and innocent. Except of course for the news of an assassin. I gather this piece of information is why I’ve been summoned here?”
They all nodded.
“I think I need to fortify myself.” He rose to pour himself another drink. Once settled back in his chair, he said, “Please, do tell.”
Hadley took a deep breath and began. “The assassin who shot Serena informed us that he’d been hired by a woman.” Sebastian’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, a woman, who is out to first disgrace, and then kill, all of the Libertine Scholars.”
“I assume you retrieved this information by … ‘questioning’ the assassin. If so, did he inform you who she was?” He looked round the room, but before they could answer, he sat up in his chair, a terrible thought filling his head. “Where’s Grayson?”
Grayson Devlin, Viscount Blackwood, Christian’s fellow Waterloo war hero, was the only Libertine Scholar missing from this gathering.
An uneasy silence followed. Arend spoke. “He’s missing. We haven’t seen or heard from him for over four weeks.”
Maitland added, “We sent the Bow Street Runners out and it would appear he’s gone to Egypt with young Jeremy Flagstaff. Jeremy’s older sister, Portia, has been abducted.”
“Grayson will live to regret the promise he made to her elder brother, Robert, as he lay dying in Grayson’s arms on the battlefield at Waterloo. That young lady is a devil in disguise,” Maitland said bitterly. “Napoleon has a lot to answer for.”
“Does Grayson know what is afoot?” The glum faces told Sebastian all he needed to know. “We have to warn him.”
“Already done. I’ve dispatched a similar note to the one I sent you.” Hadley paused before adding, “I just hope it gets to him in time.”
Sebastian nodded and crossed his legs. “Now, tell me the worst.”
Arend leaned forward and began the tale. By the time he’d finished, disbelief swept through Sebastian. He looked across at Hadley. “So, an unknown woman who was allegedly abused by our fathers is out to destroy us. Serena may know who she is, but only spied her as a young girl and can’t remember anything. In addition, you think it wasn’t my shot that killed Doogie in our duel. Is my summary accurate?”
“If they used the same strategy they employed at Christian’s duel with Dennett, then the shot would have come from the trees. It was more obvious with Christian’s duel, because with his burns received at Waterloo, no one would have expected Dennett to be dishonorable and challenge him with rapier.”
Sebastian couldn’t believe the relief flooding his body at Maitland’s words. He might not have killed Doogie. He might have been framed by an unknown enemy. Anger began to build until his skin felt too tight on his bones. Fury that his life, his family’s lives, had been played with for something their fathers may have done. Their unknown enemy had been abused or mistreated in some way, raped most likely, at the hands of their fathers, years ago at some kind of gathering. It appeared that now their fathers were dead, she was seeking justice from the sons. She’d obviously become powerful enough in her own right to instigate this type of rev
enge.
“I need proof before anyone will be convinced I’m innocent.”
Christ. He’d even married out of guilt. Beatrice. He had to tell her. At least he could make this marriage more palatable for her. She would not have to bed her brother’s killer. “Do we have a plan?”
Serena’s smile died on her lips. “We hoped you might have known something of this incident.”
He had no idea. His father’s philandering was legendary. He’d slept with any woman who’d have him, and by the sounds of things, those who didn’t want him as well, merely to get back at his wife. Rape. He hated to think his father might have been party to the rape of a young girl, but his mother had driven his father insane with jealousy.
Sebastian’s parents had married for love and love had destroyed them both. His mother had used her beauty and position to bed more men than he’d owned horses. As he’d matured, Sebastian had made sure he kept out of his parents’ marriage battleground. If this was what love did to you, he wanted no part of it.
“Sorry, I kept well away from my father’s affairs. I have no recollection of any incident.”
The faces remained stony. Serena finally said, “I think I’ll retire, gentlemen.”
The men all rose and watched as Serena bent and kissed Christian’s cheek. Christian’s face softened. “I can’t wait to make you my wife tomorrow,” he whispered, and took her hand in his and pressed a tender kiss to her palm. The loving look they shared highlighted the stark reality of Sebastian’s marriage. The thought brought him up sharp. He didn’t want any woman looking at him in that love-deep way. He would never live up to her expectations and he would be a man disappointing his wife all over again. Better to ensure love never developed in the first place.
After Serena departed, the men sat in awkward silence; none of Christian’s guests seemed eager to talk about his domestic bliss. Instead, they continued drinking and turned to discussing their options.
A Promise of More Page 6
