“My apologies Mr Black,” she whispered primly, casting her eyes downward to her hands which were resting passively in her lap.
“Don’t apologise on my account,” Black was amused, his eyes dancing mischievously. “If someone was trying to have me locked up in an asylum I’d be doing a bit more than shouting.”
Aurelia shivered at his words, she well believed him. Mr. Black had the physique of a man who regularly partook in vigorous exercise; his shoulders were broad, almost threatening to burst from his coat as he leaned toward her intently. He had an air of vigour, as though sitting still was beyond him – and Aurelia sensed - that while he was incredibly clever, Mr Black would not be above using his fists to solve a problem, if the problem warranted it.
“You don’t appear to me to be insane Miss St Claire,” Black continued, a small smirk tugging the corners of his mouth; “A little stubborn and spoiled perhaps, but not insane.”
Aurelia bristled at his mocking tone, she had never met a man as infuriating as the one sitting opposite her.
“I am not spoiled Mr Black,” she snapped, turning her wide-eyed gaze to Lady Caroline to covey how un-spoiled she was; “And as for stubborn, you said so yourself that you would be doing anything to stop yourself being falsely accused of belonging in an asylum. I apologise that I lied to you and the Marquess last night, but I had no other choice.”
Aurelia finished her point by crossing her arms and pouting, though she refrained from stamping her foot upon the floor…just about.
“Touché,” Sebastian glanced at the Lord Sutherland, whose eyebrows had almost disappeared into his hairline in wonder, as he took in Aurelia’s tale.
“What I don’t understand,” Lady Caroline interjected; “Is why your Uncle would want you locked up in the first place?”
“That’s rather a long story my Lady,” Aurelia lowered her voice to just above a whisper as she addressed Lady Caroline. “And I’m not sure I fully understand it myself…”
“Well what I think,” the Marquess of Sutherland said seriously, speaking for the first time during the conversation, his expression thoughtful. All three of his companions looked at him expectantly.
“I think, that if it’s rather a long and complex tale, our Miss St. Claire might be best served telling it over breakfast.”
Aurelia exhaled, trying to keep check on her annoyance; she had thought that a man with such a high-ranking title as the Marquess might have a more nuanced input into her predicament. Her stomach rumbled loudly, catching the amused attention of Mr. Black, who gave her a grin.
“I was going to take you to task for your insensitivity Gabe,” Black said to the fair-haired man, a smile on his face; “But it appears this time you’re right. From the sound of things Miss St. Claire is famished – she can finish her tale after we’ve eaten.”
Lady Caroline, taking up her mantle as hostess, summoned a maid with the pull of a bell. She sent the young woman scurrying to fetch their morning reparations, and soon Aurelia was sitting down – most gratefully- at a table laden with tea, coffee, rolls, breads, meats and eggs.
“Bon appetite,” Mr. Black said softly beside her, raising his cup of coffee in a mock salute, his blue eyes holding hers for a fraction longer than was seemly.
Aurelia gulped, her mouth suddenly dry, her appetite vanished – who was this Mr Black, and why did he keep looking at her in such an impertinent manner?
Sebastian was something of an expert in cajoling information from cagey informants - though Miss St Claire was definitely one of his more attractive targets. The young woman seated beside him picked delicately at her bread roll, despite being obviously very hungry. Sebastian had to admire her restraint - as a young boy growing up in St. Giles, hunger had been an ever constant companion, and he was certain that if he was in Miss St. Claire’s place he would be stuffing the bread roll into his mouth, manners be damned.
Aurelia’s stomach grumbled loudly again despite being seated at a table full of food, and Sebastian raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“He stopped feeding me about a week ago,” Miss St. Claire blurted out, addressing not just him but the whole table. “He said he would feed me when I consented to marry Freddie - but I could not you see. And that was when he started to talk of sending me to Bedlam.”
Sebastian and Gabriel exchanged confused glances, while Lady Caroline covered her mouth with her hand to hide her gasp of shock.
“I’m assuming you speak of your Uncle?” Sebastian prodded gently; “Lord Epsom?”
The dark haired beauty nodded, confirming the villain in her tale. Sebastian found himself leaning forward as she began to speak, in the prim constrained tone of a debutante.
“I suppose the tale started when Theo went to War,” she began in a soft reflective voice, pushing a stray hair from her eyes as she spoke.
“Papa was still alive, and they fought terribly over Theo enlisting, as he was the sole heir to the Baronage…”
Sebastian stopped himself from snorting with derision - the aristocracy were so obsessed with passing their titles on to their sons that they would do anything, bar an honest day’s work, to preserve the line. Anything often included practically selling ones daughter - and he should know: as one of London’s richest industrialists he had been at the receiving end of a Viscount or two callously offering him a daughter’s hand to improve his social standing. This was not the time or place to voice his low opinion of the ton however, so he merely nodded his head to encourage Miss St. Claire to explain more of her story.
“ He was a Captain in the Royal Dragoons,” she continued, noting that both Sebastian and Gabe’s eyebrows rose in appreciation as she named the mounted artillery regiment. Theo St. Claire had not simply been playing at war, Sebastian thought suitably impressed, he had been fighting it.
“It was all going so well until Waterloo…”
At this stage of the conversation Miss St. Claire put down her cutlery, focusing her gaze on the pristine white table cloth, as she visibly struggled to keep herself composed.
“Theo went missing after leading an attack on the Imperial Army during the final stages of the battle,” she intoned, as though she had learned the words off by heart. “His body was never found and shortly after being informed my father took an apoplectic fit, which killed him after a month.”
Miss St. Claire’s shoulders slumped as she finished the wretched part of her tale. Sebastian watched intrigued as she took a deep calming breath, fixed her posture and looked up at her three companions, her expression calm and serene. It was like watching an etiquette book come to life, he mused, he had never met anyone as proper as this Miss St. Claire.
“It’s such a sad tale,” Lady Caroline whispered, reaching out across the table and squeezing Aurelia’s hand; “You are such a brave, brave girl.”
Miss St. Claire gave a wan smile; “I wish that was where my story ended my Lady, but you see about three months ago my life once again took a peculiar turn. My Uncle permitted me to stay in our London home and I was to have another season in order to find myself a husband…but then -”
“Then..?” Sebastian leaned forward intently, as Miss St. Claire trailed off, a blush rising on her cheeks.
“Then I saw my brother,” she said, her mouth a stubborn line as she glared at him, defying him to contradict the absurdity of her statement.
“Ah,” Lady Caroline squawked awkwardly as the realisation of what she had heard dawned on her. Lady Caroline glanced at her brother and Sebastian pointedly, her expression easily readable. Caroline, Sebastian thought with amusement, clearly believed that Miss St. Claire did belong in Bedlam.
“I am not insane,” as though reading the thoughts of her audience Aurelia spoke again, exasperated at their lackluster response; “Indeed for the first few days after I spotted Theo in Covent Garden I thought I had gone mad with grief, but when I confided what I had seen to my Uncle…His response made me think that perhaps there was more to what I had seen than just a delirious sadnes
s.”
“What happened that made you think there was more to the story?” Sebastian asked gently. He believed Miss St. Claire, in that she had thought that she had seen her brother - but he was not certain that he believed poor Theo St. Claire had actually been walking in Covent Garden three months ago when he had died on a battlefield in Belgium.
“ It was how my Uncle reacted,” Aurelia said, lifting her hand to her neck and fiddling nervously with the chain which hung there. She seemed to remember her manners, for she dropped the chain like it was poker hot when she became aware of what she was doing, and forcibly rested her hands on her lap.
“He seemed to take what I had said seriously,” she continued; “He became nervous around me, almost scared. He kept saying that there was no way Theo was alive - even when I wasn’t protesting against him. About a month after I told him what I had seen, he informed me that I was to marry his wife’s nephew Freddie.”
Miss St. Claire wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thought of the apparently noxious Freddie, before continuing; “I refused of course and when I did they locked me in my bedroom.”
“Who did?”
“My Uncle and my Aunt,” Aurelia sniffed disdainfully as she spoke of them. “I was left there for nearly a month to think on my decision - but in the last week or so my Uncle became quite ferocious. He stopped the servants from sending me up food and he began to talk of having me committed. It was then that I decided to run away and seek the help of my friends.”
Miss St. Claire’s voice faltered a little at the word “friends”, though Sebastian payed little heed. What intrigued him most about her tale was that there was a ring of truth in what she had said: why had her Uncle reacted so violently to the supposed sighting of Theo St. Claire? Only a man with something to hide would lock his niece in her room threatening bedlam at such a tall tale.
“If your brother was alive,” Sebastian said slowly, the “if” of his sentence heavily emphasized; “If he was alive, what reason would your Uncle have to hide that from you?”
“He was the next in line for the title, my Uncle is now Lord Epsom and his son will inherit our lands in Surrey, which are quite considerable.”
Sebastian bit back a groan - of course there was a title was at the centre of this, the aristocracy were nothing if not consistent.
“What do you think?” Sebastian tore his gaze away from Miss St. Claire and addressed Gabriel, who despite the drama was still heartily tucking into a plate of sausages.
“Sounds reasonable enough to me,” Gabe said, with a Gallic shrug; “Shakespeare wrote a whole pile of plays on how murderous the nobility are. Wouldn’t put Machiavellian-ism past any member of the ton. Who’s this friend you were seeking Miss St. Claire?”
The Marquess put down his fork and addressed Aurelia kindly.
“Lady Lydia Beaufort.”
Sebastian choked in surprise, spraying the tea he had just taken a sip of all over the table. Lady Caroline shifted uncomfortably in her chair whilst her brother let out a hoot of amused laughter as he took in their combined reaction.
“What?” Miss St. Claire asked defensively, rounding on them all with flashing eyes.
“It’s just, the Lady Beaufort is rather…eccentric, is she not?”
Lady Caroline spoke in incredibly delicate tones, a faint redness spreading across her cheeks. Sebastian had to keep from laughing at her awkwardness; Lydia Beaufort was his half cousin, and eccentric was a most polite way of describing her. Sebastian was rather fond of the girl, and how she cared not a fig for the gossips of the ton, but her penchant for Byron and amateur dramatics were legendary.
“Lady Lydia is a Romantic,” Miss St. Claire replied defiantly, not taking well to any maligning of her friend’s character.
“Er, yes she is that,” Caroline answered her tone strained; “In fact the last time I saw her she had darkened her eyelashes with coal soot and was half blind at Lady Cowper’s luncheon…”
This time Sebastian did laugh, earning himself a glare from the prim Aurelia. The girl didn’t strike him as the type of chit that his half-cousin would wish to befriend - Miss St. Claire, despite her plain disguise, was obviously a well-bred young lady of the ton….with everything which that entailed. Rules. Etiquette. Dullness.
“I won’t listen to you all insult my friend,” Aurelia said, obviously extremely annoyed, her cheeks pink; “And you are either going to help me on my mission to reach Lady Lydia’s home or you are not Mr. Black.”
Sebastian held up his hands as a sign of peace.
“We will be delighted to help you Miss St. Claire,” Sebastian included Gabe in this statement, and ignored his friend rolling his eyes at having been dragged, yet again, into another escapade with him; “In fact, the Marquess was just going to send his footman to tell the groomsmen to ready the carriage. Weren’t you Gabe?”
The Marquess of Sutherland sent his oldest friend a dark look; morning calls were not something he frequently engaged in, being neither a fan of mornings nor polite society.
“It would be my pleasure to escort you to Lady Beaufort’s home,” Gabriel said rising to the challenge. Sebastian hid a grin – he could not wait for Sutherland to meet his cousin.
CHAPTER FOUR
.
“Oh it’s you.”
Lady Lydia Beaufort answered Sebastian’s call of greeting without looking up from her book of poetry and so did not see Sebastian lead Aurelia and a curious Marquess of Sutherland into the drawing room where she sat.
“Is that anyway to greet your favourite half cousin?”
Aurelia bit back a nervous giggle at the exceedingly dry tone of Mr. Black’s voice. The apparent preposterousness of his statement was enough to make Lady Beaufort tear her eyes away from the pages of her novel, and she finally registered that her cousin was not alone.
“You’re my only half cousin,” Lydia said serenely, rising from the velvet divan, and treading across the oriental rug on light feet to where they stood; “So of course you’re my favourite, there’s very little competition you see. Oh.”
A look of wariness crossed Lady Beaufort’s face as she recognised Aurelia; “Miss St. Claire, what a surprise to see you here…”
Aurelia offered Lydia a smile of trepidation; making friends had never been one of her strong points and she was exceedingly nervous. The ladies of the ton had never quite taken a shine to her, as she had gathered a reputation as something of a snob and was – as she had overheard one or two girls whisper – rather dull to boot. Dull as dishwater if one was going to quote the gossips directly. Aurelia flushed at the memory, knowing it was slightly true. She had been brought up by a strict governess after her mother’s death, and as she had no other siblings to play with to play with whilst Theo was away at to Eaton, the strict older woman had a huge shape on her personality. During her two unremarkable seasons Lady Beaufort had been one of the few ladies who had never claimed to not be at home when Aurelia called, and so in her mind at least, that made them fast friends.
“Miss St. Claire is in a bit of a bind Liddy,” Mr. Black said, ignoring all social niceties, and getting straight to the point; “She has had to leave her Uncle’s home and she was seeking the help of her closest friend.”
“Who’s that then?” Lady Beaufort asked with genuine curiosity.
“You,” Black said slowly, glancing at Aurelia in confusion, who was busy wishing that the floor would swallow her.
“Are we great friends?” Lady Beaufort turned to Aurelia a look of surprise on her face; “I didn’t think that any of the London ladies thought of me as a friend. They always cut me in the ballroom and giggle behind my back when they think I can’t hear.”
“Oh but they do that to me too,” Aurelia exclaimed, wondering why she had never confided this to Lady Beaufort before; “You were the only lady who was at home whenever I paid my morning calls!”
“You’re the only person who has ever paid me a morning call!”
Both girls beamed at each o
ther, the tenuous ties of their friendship now firmly fixed. The sound of strangled laughter erupted from behind Sebastian, and Lady Lydia peered around his shoulder to the Marquess of Sutherland, whose shoulders were shaking as he struggled valiantly to hold in laughter.
“And who is this?”
Aurelia had never heard someone inject such disdain into a question, as Lydia’s eyes raked over the Marquess icily. Sutherland started as she glared at him, as though lightning had struck him.
“This is the Marquess of Sutherland,” Mr. Black, finally remember his manners, turned to introduce his friend to his half cousin; “Gabriel allow me to introduce Lady Lydia Beaufort.”
The Marquess recovered himself quickly, bowed in an elaborate fashion, stepping forward to take Lydia’s hand, his eyes lighting up as he drank in her ethereal beauty.
“Enchanted,” Sutherland said with a wicked smile, lifting her hand to his lips and bestowing a kiss - not on the back of her hand, as was customary -but rather on her palm.
“I wish I could say the same,” Lyida replied, snatching her hand back as though it had been burned. She cast the Marquess a dark look before slipping her arm through Aurelia’s and guiding her towards a seat.
“I’ll ring for a maid to fetch tea,” Lydia said distractedly, obviously a little put out by Sutherland’s flirting and the unusual occurrence of receiving morning callers; “You sit here…”
Lady Beaufort directed Aurelia into an overstuffed Queen Ann chair, and left the room in a hurry, running a distracted hand through her dark hair.
“Where have you been hiding her then Seb?” Sutherland asked, obviously forgetting that Aurelia was still present, his awestruck gaze following Lady Beaufort out the door, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“I haven’t been hiding her anywhere,” Sebastian gave a shrug and an apologetic smile to Aurelia, who felt her nerves tingle as he glanced at her; “I rarely frequent the circles that my cousin moves in, and even if I did I wouldn’t inflict your company upon her.”
The Duke's Brother Page 3
