A Promise of More

by Bronwen Evans

  “You don’t know how lucky you are. You have a brother who thinks of you all the time, who puts family and responsibility ahead of his own needs. I have never had that in all my life.”

  “Well, now you are family, and Sebastian will put your needs before his own as well.”

  Beatrice remained silent. She had an inkling Marisa might be right, because Sebastian was a man of honor. It had nothing to do with the way he felt about her. She saw that he loved his two sisters. And for one fleeting moment, she wondered what it would be like to be loved by a man like him.

  She knew of his parents’ background, but not all marriages made in love were as fiery as his parents’ had been. If, in fact, it had ever been based in love. Why would you try to make your lover jealous? Why hurt them?

  Besides, she doubted she’d ever be able to provoke that sort of fiery, possessive emotion in any man. A slow-simmering love was all she required, not a poet’s burning passion.

  Just then Lord Montague stepped forward and bowed over Marisa’s hand. “Sorry to interrupt, but my dance, I believe, Lady Marisa.”

  Marisa beamed at the handsome young man. She looked briefly at Beatrice, and Beatrice nodded back to her.

  “Yes, you must go and dance, don’t worry about me. I see a friend over there I can talk to.”

  As soon as Marisa and her beau departed, Beatrice decided to find the refreshments table, and she made her way through the crush toward the table lining the back wall. She had almost made it when a man stepped in her way and halted her progress.

  “Why, if it isn’t the newly crowned Marchioness Coldhurst,” Lord Dunmire remarked. “The woman who is now bedding the man who killed her brother.”

  She stood frozen to the spot. “While you are the man who raped and deserted a respectable woman. I wouldn’t throw stones.” She made to go round him but he stepped in her way once more.

  “Do you think of Doogie while Coldhurst ruts atop you? He must be turning in his grave at what you have done when you could have married me.”

  She couldn’t help it, the words slipped out: “Sebastian didn’t kill Doogie and once we find Lord Eyre we can prove it.”

  Dunmire gave a tight smile. “Rubbish. You’re so gullible. Don’t think you have escaped me.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You will never escape me.”

  A tremor of revulsion swamped her body from his putrid breath on her cheek.

  “I suggest you leave me alone, Dunmire.” She almost spat his name. “My husband is not a man to be trifled with.”

  The Earl stood regarding her, probing the mask of calm that had settled on her face.

  “I’m not frightened of Sebastian Hawkestone. Besides, we all know why he married you. He married you out of guilt. I suspect he wouldn’t care what happened to you.”

  Beatrice took a step back, denial screaming in her head. “You have no power over me anymore. Lizzy is dead. I’m married to someone else. I will continue on with my life and never think of you again.”

  “Lizzy died at the wrong time. I almost had you. My threat to hurt Lizzy if you didn’t willingly come to my bed died with her.”

  “You’re despicable,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

  His smile widened to grotesque. “Why? Because you denied me. Me!” He moved closer. “A nobody like you. A spinster, no dowry, refused my honorable offer of marriage. Why? Because of one silly indiscretion. That’s why. I have not forgotten the slight and now I’ll take you without honor. You will be beneath me, mark my words.” He was breathing heavily, anger scoring his mouth.

  She turned to escape him but his arm shot out and grabbed her wrist, clamping her to his side. She trembled, captured unless she wanted to make a scene.

  “Your marriage will not save you, so don’t play hoity with me.”

  “You have no hold over me, my lord. All I have to do is tell my husband—”

  “But you won’t. There is Lizzy’s son. I know the child survived and I think you are providing for him. My son. You know where he is, and I know that you pay for his upkeep. What do you think will happen if I take the child?”

  Beatrice whirled back round to face him. “You would never claim him, because then questions would be asked as to how he was born. And I would take great pleasure in telling the world what you did to Lizzy.” Fury engulfed her, giving her a snap of courage. “You’ll never have him.”

  “Claim him, never. Take him … who would stop me? Who even knows of his birth?” Dunmire laughed in her face. “And it would be, what, your word against mine? If you care for the child, which I suspect you do, what do you think will happen to him in my care? Once I find the child, once I have him, you will bend to my will.”

  Beatrice felt trapped for the first time in her life. She cared greatly for Lizzy’s son, Henry. Lizzy had died bringing the boy into this world, and Beatrice had made her a promise to protect him, specifically to protect him from Dunmire and his evil influence.

  “Go to hell, Dunmire. I’m not telling you anything and I’m not giving up Lizzy’s son. Not to a man like you.”

  Anger scored Dunmire’s mouth as he stood silently looking at her. “What would your husband think if I revealed the existence of the boy? I could even say that it was your child. He might begin to wonder whether that was true or not. After all, you are at the age where you could have had a disputable past.”

  Now it was Beatrice’s turn to feel the heat of embarrassment. “I think you will find my husband knew that I had lain with no other man on our wedding night.”

  “We men know how these things can be faked. It would plant a seed of doubt anyway, would it not? Why on earth would a woman take on the caring of another’s illegitimate child, especially when her family could barely keep a roof over their heads? Perhaps she was hiding something?”

  Beatrice looked round the room trying to find Sebastian. She didn’t want her husband to see her talking with Dunmire. For she had no idea if what Dunmire said was true. Would Sebastian think she had tricked him on the night of their wedding?

  “Just go away and leave me alone, Dunmire,” she hissed. “I’m done dealing with the likes of you. You can’t touch me.” And like a coward, she whirled round and retreated through the crowd, worming her way across the ballroom until she found her way to the retiring room.

  “My, my, I wonder if that was a lover’s tiff. Did you know anything about who Beatrice was seeing prior to your marriage?”

  Sebastian frowned as he watched his wife hurry across the ballroom, pushing through the crowd in her haste to escape. His eyes narrowed and they focused on the man across the room, the man who’d sent her fleeing. The man she had been talking to. The man who had put his hand on her arm. Lord Dunmire.

  “I do not believe I know of Beatrice’s past. She was at an age where I thought if she had wanted to accept another man, she would have.”

  The woman laughed gaily at his side. “More fool you. For I’ve heard rumors that Dunmire was quite taken with your bride before she twisted your sense of honor into marriage.”

  Christina had her hand through Sebastian’s arm and she pushed herself intimately against him. He didn’t for one moment believe what Christina was saying. It likely sprang from jealousy. She’d not taken his marriage to Beatrice well, which was not surprising considering she had marked him as a prime candidate for husband number two.

  The beautiful young widow didn’t appear to relish being second best. Yet, he’d informed her that their liaison was over before his duel with Doogie.

  He raised one eyebrow. “You have something you wish to tell me? Something about my wife?”

  Christina must have sensed his tone, for she shook her head. “Nothing of note. There was a rumor going round that Dunmire was quite eager to marry Beatrice Hennessey. I have no idea why. She had no dowry, is not a beauty, and everyone knew she was called Henpeck Hennessey for a reason.”

  Sebastian found his fists clenching at his side. H
e hated the nickname. Beatrice did not deserve it. From what he knew of her, there was nothing henpecky about her. She was sensible, that was true, whereas her brother had been a wastrel. So far, she had not tried to henpeck Sebastian in any way. If she wanted something, she asked, and if she didn’t like something, she told him so.

  “Dunmire is not someone who has crossed paths with me before. What sort of man is he?”

  The hand on his arm shuddered slightly. “He is not the kindest of men. I can quite understand why she did not wish to marry him. But the rumor was she could have married Dunmire rather than coming to you. Perhaps she has not been as truthful as you thought.”

  Sebastian’s mouth firmed. He didn’t like to think he had been played for a fool. He quite clearly remembered Beatrice saying there was no one else she, or her family, could turn to, and that she had no option but to ask him to marry her. He didn’t like that his marriage might be based on a lie. He wanted a marriage built on trust. His parents’ marriage had been disastrous because there was no trust.

  “I think it might be time to go and find my wife.” With that, he bowed over Christina’s hand and made to leave.

  She thrust herself forward until her breasts pushed into his chest. “If you find your wife lacking in any way, you know I am here for you. I would more than welcome you back into my bed.”

  He stood looking down at the beautiful widow standing in front of him. She was indeed a temptation. However, the only woman he seemed to want in his bed at the moment was his wife, and that worried him greatly. He didn’t want to have any feelings for Beatrice. But the rage he’d felt at seeing Dunmire’s hand on her was possessive. She was his and no other man would have her.

  Their marriage was supposed to be a deal, a partnership of mutual respect and trust. Beatrice would manage their home and fill it with children, while he kept her family financially secure.

  “Thank you for your kind offer. I will remember it.” And with that, he turned and left to go in search of his wife.

  Dunmire watched Beatrice hurry across the ballroom, his fists clenched at his side. She was even more beautiful than the day he’d first met her. His groin throbbed at the idea of having the woman on her knees at his feet.

  It was his blasted bad luck Beatrice had been Lizandra’s friend and thereby learned his secret. It was hardly his fault if Lizandra had thrown herself at him. What was a man to do? Unfortunately, he’d thought the silly girl would crawl away in disgrace and keep silent. He shouldn’t have to marry a nobody just because a quick fuck in a darkened garden had got the chit pregnant.

  Now Beatrice had outmaneuvered him too. He’d thought Doogie’s death would see her having to turn to him. But she was too clever for words.

  It pained him that Coldhurst had the woman he wanted. Worse still, somehow they’d learned that Lord Eyre knew Sebastian’s pistol had not killed Doogie.

  A small smile creased his lips. But if they thought they’d find the young lord, they would be waiting until hell froze over. Dunmire had made sure his body would never be found.

  Now all he had to make sure of, was that Beatrice went missing too. Finding out where the child was would give him the leverage he needed. For some reason Beatrice doted on the boy.

  “Enjoying yourself, my sweet? You seemed to be enraptured with a certain gentleman.”

  Beatrice jumped upon hearing Sebastian’s voice in her ear. She’d been so upset she hadn’t sensed his approach.

  She knew exactly what Sebastian was referring to, her tête-à-tête with Lord Dunmire. But she didn’t wish her husband to know anything about Dunmire. She didn’t want to have to tell him she’d lied to him on his ship. Sebastian hadn’t been her only option, just her only viable option. If he ever found out … especially now they knew he’d not shot Doogie …

  Then there was Lizandra’s son, Henry. She was worried about what Sebastian’s reaction would be if he found out about the boy, especially in light of Dunmire’s foul threats. Could a woman fake her virginity? Would Sebastian believe she was pure when she came to his bed?

  If he believed her, she considered Sebastian would probably be fine with continuing to pay for the boy’s care and keep, given how important family was to him. But it was a risk she couldn’t take. Not until they knew each other better and Sebastian would know she’d never lie—well, not about this.

  If he thought she’d lied about needing him to marry her, he might think she was lying now and not believe her about Henry’s parentage, thinking the child hers.

  What if he thought it right to give Henry to the boy’s father? Dunmire was a monster.

  “I’m not sure what you are referring to,” Beatrice said rather breathlessly.

  “Was Dunmire bothering you? He does have a way of bothering the ladies.”

  “He wasn’t bothering me.”

  “Is he an acquaintance of yours?”

  Beatrice shook her head, another lie, and she felt terribly guilty about it. “No, he was an acquaintance of my brother.” Sebastian continued to stare at her. “He was ensuring I was well; he was worried about our marriage.”

  Sebastian reached toward her and pulled a stray curl off her forehead, evidently wanting to see her face. “Was he a close friend of the family?”

  Taken aback by his tone, she gazed at Sebastian warily, wondering what the sudden interest in Dunmire was. “Not particularly. Although he did come and offer his condolences when my brother was killed. I’m assuming he was just trying to be kind.”

  “And were you appreciative of his kindness?” His voice held a hard edge; was he angry? “If he was really trying to be kind, why did he not step forward and offer for you?”

  This is what she had been dreading, for Dunmire had offered for her. But unless she could reveal Lizandra’s secret and tell Sebastian what kind of man Dunmire actually was, she would have no way of explaining why she would never have accepted a proposal from Dunmire.

  She’d promised Lizandra never to reveal her friend’s shame, and she’d rather die than break her promise after everything Lizzy had gone through. And there was Henry to consider. Could she trust Sebastian with the truth?

  She had dragged Sebastian into this situation by telling a lie, and now she was trapped by it. Would he listen? She didn’t know what his reaction would be. Would he hate her? Would he punish her by giving Henry to Dunmire? She couldn’t bear that, not after everything Lizzy had endured. She would not fail her friend. Beatrice had vowed on Lizzy’s deathbed to protect her son and ensure Dunmire never got his hands on him. She would not let her best friend—her only friend—down.

  “He must not have wanted me.”

  “More fool him. He wants you now, though.” Sebastian leaned in close and pressed his lips to her ear. “Every man in this room wants you. Including me,” he said, and nipped her earlobe, sending heat curling low in her belly.

  “I—I—I think you must be teasing me, my lord. If every man had wanted me, I would not have got to five and twenty unmarried.” She could hardly gather her thoughts with him standing so close.

  “They want you because you’re married. No man dallies with a single lady of quality without braving the parson’s noose. Now that you’re mine, they think they face no risk. Little do they know, I protect what is mine.”

  His lips trailed a molten path down her neck. She could barely catch her breath. She glanced round the crowded ballroom. It seemed that everyone, male and female, was watching them.

  “We are drawing a crowd. Everyone is watching us. You are standing indecently close.”

  Sebastian gave her neck one final nibble before drawing back. “There is no need to blush—we are married, you know. Newly married, a certain amount of intimacy is to be expected.” He slipped her arm through his. “Something I hope you will remember. I’ll not stand for infidelity, especially before we have children.”

  She gasped and looked up into Sebastian’s smiling face, his eyes cold as ice.

  “You will not have to worry about
me being unfaithful, my lord—ever. I will honor my marriage vows. Can you say the same?”

  Sebastian drew up short. “It is different for me. We do not bear children. My father never knew with certainty if my sisters were his. I couldn’t face that pain. Women need to remain faithful, but men … How I live my life is my business; that was part of our arrangement. My marriage changes nothing.”

  Beatrice frowned. “I don’t remember any such detail. You stood before God and swore fidelity. As did I. If you want my trust and respect, then sleeping your way through the ton is not the way to earn it.”

  She felt Sebastian stiffen beside her. “I saved your family, I married you—even though, as it turns out, I did not kill Doogie. It would appear we are stuck with each other. But I warn you now. I won’t have my behavior questioned. You may have been able to henpeck your brother, but it won’t work on me.”

  Hurt knifed through her until every inch of skin exuded pain. Her stomach heaved and she fought down the bile. “My marriage changes nothing …” He had deliberately thrown her nickname in her face. She snuck a glance at him. His eyes glittered in the light from the candles, hard like diamonds, his face a mask of indifference.

  She would never forgive him.

  She lowered her eyes, smoothed her skirts, and refused to rise to his obvious bait. She would not deign to argue with him here, with all the ton watching. She would not let him see how much his words hurt her.

  He’d been in a foul temper when questioning her about Dunmire. Could he be jealous? She inwardly scoffed at the idea.

  “If you will excuse me, husband, I feel the need to be free of your company.” Flicking him a look of utter contempt, she added, “I would not wish to impose on your life any more than I already do.”

  As she turned to leave, she felt a small measure of satisfaction at the look of astonishment on his face.

  Chapter Ten