She more than desired. She gave him a dazzling smile, gratitude beaming from within. Thankfully their relationship was back on an even keel. Respect, admiration, and friendship once more restored but they shared more—love. The fact he had embraced Henry and allowed her to bring him into their home was something she would never forget. Thankfully, Henry’s fever had broken that night and he was back to being a rambunctious two-year-old. She owed Sebastian everything. She inclined her head and let him draw her to the floor.
Sebastian steered her through the swirling throng, his powerful arms holding her gently, his firm thighs scorching through the sheer material of her gown. Her breasts tightened, and her skin came alive as his fingers stroked her waist through the silk. This must be what debutantes felt like upon their first waltz—giddy, nerves trembling, taut with anticipation. She was no longer the staid old spinster of twenty-five. She remembered his naked body lying next to her from earlier that afternoon and her gaze dropped to his groin.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to embarrass myself on the dance floor and we won’t be able to leave it.”
She gave a delighted smile and raised her eyes back to his face. His face seemed harder, more chiseled, more austere. His body seemed more powerful and there was something in his eyes as they rested on hers. It was warmth. There was warmth glowing from his eyes. Since the argument over Henry, they had wordlessly agreed to start again, starting a new life, one that she looked forward to.
“I shall look forward to staring at more of you later this evening when we get home,” she said.
Typical man. He was trying to stop the smile hinting at the edges of his lips. “I look forward to that immensely. Perhaps you’ll even do more than stare?” He straightened and pulled her closer. “We will go and get Henry together tomorrow. We will close the house down and we will move Henry and Monica into Waverly Court.” Just as he finished speaking, the smile died from his eyes and his body went taut beneath her hands.
“What is it?”
“Dunmire is here. Christ, I want to challenge him.”
“Please don’t. We have a plan. Please stick to it. Look how disastrous Doogie’s duel turned out. I don’t want that on my conscience and neither would Lizzy. The way we can beat Dunmire is by milking him for information before handing him to the magistrate, and by raising his son Henry to be a good man.”
They twirled round the floor and he just looked at her. “I don’t know if you are right,” he said, “but I do know that we need to put Henry’s needs first. And it wouldn’t do for a man like Dunmire to know his son was alive and well and in our care. It would give him leverage over us.”
“Exactly. If the H.B. that Clarice mentioned is Dunmire, we don’t want to do anything to upset him just yet. We want him completely unaware of what we are doing.”
“How did you get so smart? The only way we can get him to talk is if we trap him with the knowledge we have gained. Only then will he talk.”
The dance soon ended and they went back to join the others.
“I see Arend and Maitland have arrived. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and talk to them. I need to ask them to watch Dunmire.” Sebastian gave Beatrice a beautiful smile, took her hand and pressed his lips to it, and left.
Beatrice excused herself and made her way to the ladies’ retiring room in order to gather her thoughts. As she entered the room, her stomach plummeted at the sight of Christina sitting before the mirror. Tonight had been wonderful so far; she really didn’t want to face Christina’s taunts, for she knew what was coming by the sly look that crossed Christina’s face as Beatrice sat down on the chair next to her.
Their eyes met in the mirror. Christina’s smile could freeze hell. “I had an interesting visitor yesterday,” Christina said. “He seemed to be in need of some feminine company.”
Beatrice tried not to let the pain cross her face at Christina’s words. She knew what had happened when Sebastian visited Christina—nothing of importance. Anyway, it was in the past. There was nothing that Christina could say that would hurt her.
“What, no response? You don’t seem to care your husband of only a few weeks has already found enjoyment in another woman’s arms.”
“Why do you have to be such a bitch? You had your chance with Sebastian and it didn’t work out. Why can’t you leave us alone?”
Christina’s eyes narrowed. “My chance was interrupted by your brother’s silly duel. If Sebastian had not had to flee England, who knows what would have happened?”
Beatrice looked at her rival with pity. “The duel was because he was in another woman’s bed. If Sebastian had loved you, do you really think he would have been enticed by a courtesan he didn’t even know?”
Christina’s face flushed with color. “Don’t be so naive. Men will always be enticed by a pretty courtesan, but I wanted Sebastian as a husband. I should have taken a leaf out of your book and trapped or blackmailed him. You were more clever than I and now you reap the reward, but just remember, every woman in that ballroom will be trying to bed your husband.” She stood. “And knowing your husband’s reputation, he won’t be backward in accepting. Why do you think he was at my door last night? One woman will never satisfy him.”
Beatrice gave Christina a knowing smile. “I do satisfy him, because Sebastian has given me, and me alone, something precious—his heart.” She ran a comb through the ends of her hair. “He came to you last night, but nothing happened, did it? Why was that, do you think?” When Christina remained silent, she added, “He told me everything. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt me. You’re a beautiful woman, Christina. You deserve more from men than to be a plaything. Make a man deserve you. Sebastian certainly didn’t. Not the way he treated you.”
“And you think he’ll treat you any better? You are living a dream, which will quickly turn into a nightmare. I give it twelve months. Then he’ll grow tired of you.”
“I don’t think so. I believe in Sebastian’s love. I believe in him.”
“Then you’ll only be hurt more when you fall. For I promise you, Beatrice. I will have Sebastian as my husband, and not even you will stand in my way.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
Christina smiled before she left the small retiring room. “More a promise.”
The room suddenly went cold as Christina left. The hairs on Beatrice’s arms were standing upright. Christina was up to something and she needed to warn Sebastian.
It wasn’t until she made her way back toward the ballroom that it occurred to her the only way Christina could marry Sebastian was if she was dead.
Sebastian was trying to pay attention to what Maitland was saying, but he was distracted, waiting for his wife’s return since she had slipped to the retiring room. With a sigh of relief he watched her reenter the ballroom and saw men’s heads turn her way. She looked beautiful this evening, especially with the flash of anger flaring in her eyes. He knew who would have put the anger there, because he had seen Christina reenter the ballroom just ahead of his wife.
He watched as she made her way toward Marisa and Aunt Alison and was pleased when he saw the easy camaraderie among the women. He knew his sisters had grown close to Beatrice and he knew that they were pleased he had married her.
When he had thought she had betrayed him with Lord Dunmire, the rage that had engulfed him reminded him so much of his father that it scared him. He had fallen in love with his wife; what would that do to him in the future? Would he let jealousy taint what they shared?
But as Beatrice had pointed out, if they had trust in each other, if they really did love each other, then there would be no reason to be jealous, for like her, he wouldn’t want to hurt her by being unfaithful with anybody else.
He glanced to the left and saw Christina watching him. How funny that only a few weeks ago the sight of a beautiful woman would have piqued his interest. Now, however, he had lost all desire for any woman other than his wife.
With the danger that
was lurking, he knew he should really send her and the girls to his estate near York, but he couldn’t bear to be parted from Beatrice. He knew his feelings for Beatrice were deeper than he’d had for any other woman. She was special.
Just then Lord Donoghue approached his wife and asked for a dance. When she smiled up at him and put her hand in his, the fangs of jealousy bit again. What if the deeper he fell in love with Beatrice, the less he could control this rage? He would have to learn to rein in the emotions he was feeling. He glanced at Maitland and wished for one moment that he could be as cool, calm, and collected as his friend—his emotions never came into play.
He shook his head and decided to rejoin the conversation with the men. They were of course discussing the initials H.B. and the fact they thought H.B. was Lord Dunmire.
“I think we should set a trap for Dunmire,” he heard Maitland saying.
Arend agreed. “The perfect way to trap Dunmire is to give him exactly what he wants, and it appears from your conversation he wants your wife.”
Sebastian thought he must have heard Arend wrong. “You don’t expect me to let my wife become involved in this? I’m not about to let her become a target.”
“We would be there to ensure nothing happened to her,” Arend persisted. “We wouldn’t let her out of our sight for a minute, and if we met somewhere where we could contain him and control the situation, then there is not a chance in hell she could be hurt.”
“You can’t guarantee that. I know things have gone wrong before. You can’t control everything, Arend, even if you want to.”
Maitland said, “What if we trick Dunmire? What if we let it be known that Sebastian has seen her with Henry and assumes that Henry is his son. Why don’t we let him know that Sebastian has thrown her out and that she is living in the house in Old Kent Road?”
Arend nodded. “It’s a good plan. Dunmire would go directly to Old Kent Road and we could be there waiting.”
“No.” He was adamant that Beatrice would not be put in the middle of this. Too many people had already been hurt and he did not wish any harm to come to Beatrice. He was responsible for her. She was her wife. The pain gripping his chest at the idea of her walking into danger sent him reeling.
Hadley came over to join the conversation. He noted the stern looks on his fellow Libertine Scholars’ faces and asked, “I say, has anything happened that I should be aware of?”
Sebastian ran his hand through his hair and said, “I want you to talk some sense into these two. They are suggesting we use Beatrice to trap Dunmire and find out what he knows.”
Hadley looked at each of the three faces around him and then back at Sebastian. “How would they do that?” Sebastian filled him in on their idea and Hadley said, “I actually think it’s a good plan. How much harm can she come to if we are already in the house when he arrives?”
“Come on, Sebastian, you know we would never let anything happen to your wife. I would not suggest this course of action if I thought we could not protect her,” Arend said.
Sebastian was fuming. Hadley made him even madder when he said, “Why don’t we ask Beatrice? She of everyone has the most to lose, and from what Sebastian tells us, she also has the most to gain. She wants Dunmire out of her life just as much as we do.”
Sebastian knew he had lost this battle, because he knew what Beatrice would say if she was consulted. “I will ask her. I’m not happy with this, and if anything happens to Beatrice I’m going to take it out on you.”
With that, he decided to go and find his wife and ask her for a dance.
Beatrice made her way back after her dance with Lord Donoghue to Aunt Alison’s side. Marisa was still out on the dance floor with Lord Rothburg. Aunt Alison handed her a note. “One of the footmen asked me to deliver this to you. I’m assuming it’s from Sebastian. I saw him over the other side of the room moments ago, but he seems to have disappeared.”
She took the note Aunt Alison held out to her with a thrill of excitement. She opened the note and read, I have some news regarding Dunmire. We do have a plan. Meet me in the bedroom upstairs. It’s the third door on the left and I’ll fill you in on all the details. Yours, Sebastian.
Beatrice looked around the room and couldn’t see her husband. Nor could she see Dunmire. That worried her slightly—what if this was a trick? But there was only one way to find out. Besides, she had a small pistol tucked into her garter. It wouldn’t kill him but it would wound him enough for her to escape.
She made her way from the ballroom, trying to appear nonchalant, as if she weren’t going off for a rendezvous with anyone, let alone her husband. Once in the hall, she made her way quickly up the stairs and counted the doors on the left until she came to the third one. She didn’t knock on the door; she just tentatively opened it and stuck her head around the opening.
The room was in darkness, apart from the fire in the grate, and it also appeared to be empty. Perhaps she had beaten Sebastian here. She entered the room and closed the door behind her, making her way across to the fire.
It was only then that she heard the door behind her being locked.
She turned slowly, knowing before she did who was in the room with her—Dunmire.
“I do like a woman who comes when she’s called,” he said as he crept toward her like the rodent he was.
“You must have a death wish to lure me here with my husband in the ballroom below. How long do you think before he notices I’m missing?”
Chapter Eighteen
He laughed like a madman. “Notices you’re missing? Christ, he never even wanted to marry you. A man of his reputation for the ladies won’t come looking for hours. What fun we can have in that time …” He moved closer.
To her horror, Beatrice realized Dunmire had no way of knowing that Sebastian actually loved her.
“At this moment Christina is occupying your husband,” Dunmire said. “As she did last night. It would appear they have renewed their previous relationship.”
She moved away from the fire, trying to put the daybed between them while she began to hike up the side of her gown in order to get to the pistol.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked to buy more time. “I’m not worth bothering over. You know what Sebastian will do when he learns what you have done.”
“And how will he learn?” He shook his head. “Not from you, my sweet. This time I’ll leave no witness. You and I will be taking a little trip abroad. A trip that, unfortunately, you will not return from.”
Terror almost paralyzed her. “You’re going to kill me?”
“Not just kill, my dear. Rape, sodomize, and kill. I’ll only kill you once I tire of you. I’m not sure how long that will take, as I’ve never had a sex slave before. So a long sea voyage is a necessity.”
“You’re a monster,” she spat at him. “I knew that after you raped Lizzy, but I didn’t understand just how sick and twisted you are. I should have made Lizzy report you.”
They moved around the daybed, each circling the other. She had managed to reach the small pistol, and the fact that she now held it in her hand gave her courage.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why me? There are more beautiful women you could assault.”
“But none that hold me in such icy disdain. I intend to punish you for it.” He suddenly leapt across the daybed and grabbed her by the arms. “You stuck-up bitch. You, from a family that was destitute, thought yourself too good for me, turning my proposal down. Me, down.”
With that, he backhanded her across the face and sent her spinning across the floor, her pistol flying out of her hand to the far corner of the room.
He advanced on her then.
She shook her head, trying to ease the dizziness from his attack. She barely had time to gasp before Dunmire advanced upon her, huge and menacing as a demon from her nightmares.
They stared at each other. Beatrice was filled with loathing, her heartbeat frantic. She tried to push to her feet but he was on her in one lunge.
/>
Dunmire’s evil eyes grew darker and he looked insane.
He seized her by her throat, squeezing until she could barely breathe. “Get up before I snap this pretty neck.”
Choking for air, she could do nothing but obey. Once she was on her feet, he dragged her toward the daybed. “You know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you?” he said with glee in his voice. “I hope you struggle like Lizandra did. It is very invigorating to sense the fear.”
She winced in disgust but faced him. “I will not struggle and I will not scream. You may take my body but you’ll never touch me in here”—she touched her head—“or here”—then touched her heart.
He gave her a smile that made her bravado falter. “You’ll scream all right. Maybe not tonight, but soon.”
He threw her back on the daybed and she drew a deep breath, then let out a long, high-pitched scream, hoping it would be heard over the music wafting up from below. Maybe a servant would be passing; maybe Sebastian had noticed her absence and was already looking for her.
“Help! Help me, please!”
Dunmire began removing his coat. She took the opportunity to stretch, trying to reach her pistol, but she had barely risen off the daybed before his fist slammed into her stomach, knocking her breath from her body and sending her flying back down.
When she’d caught her breath, she said, “You’re a dead man, Dunmire. I don’t care what you do to me. I know Sebastian will make it his life mission to find you and kill you. He knows you set up Doogie.”
He hesitated in his undoing of the fly of his trousers. “He knows nothing. You’re trying to trick me. If he knew about Doogie, why hasn’t he already confronted me?” he snarled, his eyes glittering. “You’re simply trying to delay me,” he said, and his fingers began to work the buttons with greater speed.
A Promise of More Page 25
