The Duke's Brother

by Claudia Stone

  “Black, you old rascal you’re awake and making mischief I see!”

  Sebastian closed his eyes momentarily as the Marquess of Sutherland made his - unwanted, it had to be said - presence known.

  “You should have called for the nurse when Mr. Black woke Aurelia,” her brother scolded, though more from concern than annoyance.

  “Oh, I know,” Aurelia grumbled, red patches of irritation flaring on her cheeks. “But you can’t blame the man for wanting to know what happened to you when he nearly died to save your life Theodore St. Claire.”

  Sutherland’s eyebrows shot up in amusement, Sebastian supposed he found it a novelty not to be at the end of a sisters chastising, and he stared between Aurelia and her brother in delight.

  “It’s just that Mr. Black would probably like some food and a bit of privacy after his ordeal Aurelia,” the newly reinstated Lord Epsom said. “He hasn’t eaten in three days.”

  Sebastian was about to protest, but his stomach rumbled so loudly it could have been thunder outside the window.

  “I’ll fetch the nurse,” Aurelia squeaked in response to his stomach’s grumblings, and left the room.

  “Oh goodie,” Sutherland smiled a Cheshire cat grin; “What can a man want more than hot food delivered by a lovely nurse.”

  “Gabe, I’m beginning to think my cousin is right about you,” Sebastian groaned, wishing that Lord Epsom had left along with his sister so he could throw his pillow at the Marquess.

  “Has the lovely Lady Lydia been talking about me?” Sutherland asked, taking a seat in the chair that Aurelia had occupied. “Do tell, I’ve been longing to hear what she says about me when I’m not there.”

  “Trust me Gabe,” Sebastian said, sitting up straighter in the bed. “You don’t.”

  “Not to, er, interrupt,” Lord Epsom said looking a little bewildered by their exchange; “But my sister was quite correct. You risked your life to save mine Mr. Black, and for that I am eternally grateful.”

  “It was nothing,” Sebastian replied abruptly: for it was Aurelia who had truly saved her brother, not him.

  “Still, please know that I am grateful,” Lord Epsom said graciously.

  “And thank goodness you are,” Sutherland said sanguine. “For your sisters’ reputation could have been completely ruined in the process and then where would Sebastian be?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Theo asked, his fair skin turning red with annoyance, as he gathered what the Marquess was insinuating.

  “Well she did travel to Epsom alone with Sebastian. In a carriage. Through the night.”

  It seemed to Sebastian that Sutherland was trying to make the situation out to be far worse than it actually was.

  “Nothing happened Epsom,” Sebastian interjected, throwing his friend a dark look, but Sutherland would not meet his eye. “You have my word.”

  “Your word is enough for me Black,” Theo said quietly; “But will it be enough for the ton if any of this gets out?”

  “Nothing,” Sebastian held up a hand to silence both the Marquess and Lord Epsom. “Nothing is going to “get out”, and if it does then what matter. For your sister and I shall be wed before the weeks’ end.”

  “I am glad to hear that,” Lord Epsom said after a moment’s pause, looking slightly mollified. “I’ll inform Aurelia at once.”

  “There’s no need,” a voice squeaked from the open door; “She already knows.”

  Sebastian turned to see Aurelia standing in the doorway, her face pale and fearful: the face of a woman who had just been sentenced to the gallows.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  .

  Aurelia didn’t quite understand exactly what had happened. In the space of the five minutes it had taken her to fetch the nurse, she had somehow ended up engaged to be married to Sebastian. During that interlude Lord Sutherland also appeared to have upset both her brother and his best friend, and now nobody was talking to him.

  This she knew because Lydia, on receipt of the news that she was to wed her half cousin, arrived at Epsom Hall in a tizz the next day.

  “Honestly that man,” she cried, removing her gloves and depositing them into the Greek Urn that stood by the front door. Aurelia had never seen anyone as distracted before, she wasn’t even sure Lydia knew what county she was even in. Waving at the maid to retrieve the gloves, Aurelia shooed Lady Beaufort into the drawing room, which looked out over the sweeping, pebbled drive of Epsom Hall.

  “What man?” Aurelia asked, wondering who it was that had upset Lydia so.

  “Sutherland,” the raven-haired beauty exclaimed. “He called to say that he had engineered this, this fiasco! And he was proud of himself.”

  “What fiasco?” Aurelia asked, biting her lip nervously, for she already knew the answer.

  “Your marriage,” Lydia hissed, looking sideways to the maid to make sure she was not listening. “He has locked you into marrying my cousin for his own amusement.”

  “I don’t think was quite how it happened…” Aurelia said, her face flushing. Her brother had informed her that due to having spent a night unchaperoned with Sebastian, that her reputation was completely, utterly and totally irretrievable, unless she married Mr. Black. Even though this “scandalous act” was not actually that scandalous, and had only occurred because she and Sebastian were on a mission to save Theo’s life, Aurelia had been inclined to agree with her brother. The gossips of the ton were vicious when they smelled any kind of a wrongdoing. And while Sebastian would never have to endure their scorn, due to being both male and filthy rich, Aurelia was the one who would suffer. She would be excluded from every facet of life in London, and the tiny circle of friends she had garnered, would surely dwindle to none. Bar the Lady Beaufort, who cared little for gossip and scandal.

  “Are you sure?” Lydia asked suspiciously. “Because from the way that Sutherland told it he seemed to think he was rather clever. He thinks that Sebastian is too much of an inverted snob to ever confess his love for you, so he gave him a push.”

  “In love with me?” Aurelia squeaked: now Lydia was being ridiculous.

  “Well, yes,” Lydia said uncomfortably. “Surely you knew?”

  “No,” Aurelia stammered, she hadn’t known - and she didn’t quite believe Lydia and the Marquess’ surmising of Sebastian’s feelings. “I think that the Marquess has somehow got himself in a muddle.”

  “Oh, and I do too,” Lydia agreed fervently. “He seems to think that he saw the two of you kissing in the garden square from his bedroom window a few mornings ago. I said Gabriel if that is the case I shall eat my hat -”

  Lydia broke off her speech as she registered the look of horror on Aurelia’s face, and took it to mean that Aurelia had been kissing Sebastian in the garden of St James’.

  “Well,” the dark haired girl sighed pragmatically. “I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t wear a hat today. Oh Aurelia, I didn’t realise that you loved Sebastian back, why this is marvelous!”

  “I - I -” Aurelia stammered, wanting to say that no, she didn’t love Sebastian Black, but stopped when she realised that in fact, she was quite certain that she did.

  “I don’t know what to do Liddy,” she said forlornly, her shoulders dropping in defeat. The thought that Sebastian had been shoe-horned into marrying her was utterly depressing. True the Marquess of Sutherland seemed to believe his oldest friend was head over heels for her, but the man himself had mentioned nothing about love. He hadn’t even confessed to liking her; though the passionate kisses they had shared told her that his feelings did indeed stretch to like, which was something, at least.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know what to do?” Lydia asked, surprised. “There’s very little that you’re obliged to do, bar turn up on tomorrow morning and smile. Sutherland had collected the special license that Sebastian procured from the Archbishop. He said so when he spoke to me yesterday, there’s naught left to do.”

  A special license was a dispensation from the Archbishop of Canteb
ury, which waived the requirement for a couple to have the banns of their marriage read out for three weeks before they wed. They were usually only granted to wealthy men or the aristocracy, and it allowed a couple to marry anywhere, not just within the confines of a church. Aurelia supposed that Sebastian’s wealth and injured leg had persuaded the Archbishop to grant them one, though she secretly believed that his wealth was the bigger influence.

  “I just mean…” Aurelia sighed, staring at her hands which rested in her lap. A thread was loose on the fabric of her dress and she began to pluck at it distractedly.

  What did she mean?

  She was glad she was marrying Sebastian, for she did love him, or at least she was sure she did. What was niggling her was all that she knew about her husband to be. Sebastian had said that the aristocracy were always throwing their daughters at him, so as to have access to his vast wealth. Did he think that of her, did he think her another fortune hunter?

  How would she show him that she loved him for the brave and loyal friend that he had been to her - and that she desired him, as she had never desired any man?

  “You worry an awful lot Aurelia,” Lydia said observantly. “I know it’s probably not how you wish you marriage to begin, and I’ll have Sutherland flogged for that - don’t you worry. But if you are both in love…”

  “He has never said anything to me about love,” Aurelia protested, voicing her fears.

  “He kissed you in St. James’ park, risked his life to save your brother and sent for a special license so he could marry you straight away,” Lydia said, listing all the acts off on her finger. “You can rest assured, I believe he is in love with you. But if you have any doubts Aurelia, ask the man himself.”

  Aurelia nodded dumbly, if only asking Sebastian - and thus exposing herself to the most painful vulnerability imaginable - could be that easy.

  Sebastian was surprised to learn that his cousin had made the trip to Epsom from London for the wedding.

  “Well you don’t have that many relatives, and you wouldn’t dream of inviting the few family members that you do have – so I invited myself,” Lydia said with a sniff. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you standing there with no one on the Groom’s side.”

  “Oh, right,” Sebastian said, surprised at the feeling of gratitude welling up in him as Lydia finished her little speech. The binds of their familial relationship were tenuous at best, but hearing his half-cousin through marriage declare herself firmly as his family, was one of the most touching things Sebastian had ever experienced.

  “And is that blaggard, Sutherland, too cowardly to show his face?”

  The question was innocuous, but Sebastian sensed there was a deeper interest, as Lydia stilled to listen to his answer.

  “He returned last night with the special license,” Sebastian said slowly, not even sure if Lydia was listening – for she had taken out the miniature of the poet Lord Byron that she kept in her reticule, and was staring at it closely. “I sent him away with a flea in his ear, I don’t think he’ll darken my door for a while.”

  “Oh,” Lydia, far from looking satisfied, looked rather disappointed.

  “Disappointed cuz?” Sebastian asked with a raised eyebrow, earning himself a dark, scathing look from Lady Beaufort.

  “Disappointed not to be subjected to that scoundrel’s company?” Lydia said dismissively, closing the silver case which held the miniature shut with a snap. “Not likely. Now where do you propose you’re going to stay for the night, for you can’t stay here?”

  “Can I not?” Sebastian asked, wondering why he was being ejected from Epsom Hall so soon.

  “No you nonce,” Lydia tsked, “It’s bad luck to stay under the same roof as your intended bride. You’ll have to stay at an inn in the village.”

  And so, not an hour later, Sebastian found himself holed up in a room in the village inn. The hour was early so he decided to do what any groom facing his wedding would do, he went downstairs to the tavern to fetch a pint of ale. The pub was filled with local farmers, crowded around rough-hewn wooden tables. They eyed Sebastian suspiciously as he made his way to the bar, as country folk were wont to do with strangers.

  “A tankard of your best ale lass,” he said to the serving girl, who was a fresh faced, apple-cheeked, sturdy young girl.

  “Make that two if it’s not too much hassle, my dear Sally,” a silky voice interjected.

  Sebastian didn’t have to turn to see who had spoken, and Sally’s flushing, awed face told him all.

  “When will people learn not to be impressed by titles?” Sebastian asked wryly as Sutherland took the stool beside him.

  “My dear Sebastian,” Sutherland replied, with the air of a man giving a most important lecture. “Sally is enthralled by my charm not my title. And my devilish good looks can’t hurt, I suppose.”

  “Forgive me my ignorance, Lord Sutherland,” Sebastian said darkly, gladly accepting the glass full of amber liquid that Sally passed to him. He drank deeply, savoring the taste of hops and the creaminess of the brew.

  “I’ve been forgiving you that since the first day we met,” Sutherland shrugged, nonchalant, picking up his own pint. “Now shall we drink to the blessed union?”

  It was a remark too far for Sebastian. A curtain of red-rage descended over his eyes, and before he knew it he was wrestling his oldest friend to the floor.

  The locals clamored around the fighting gentlemen in excitement, delighted with the novelty of seeing two toffs throwing punches, and not the usual belligerent drunks who ended up fighting at the end of the night.

  “Tha’s it my Lord,” one man roared as Sutherland gained the upper hand, sinking a jarring blow to Sebastian’s jaw. “Knock ‘im out!”

  The circle of men shouted their collective approval, urging the Marquess to render his friend unconscious, demanding blood.

  “You forced that poor girl’s hand,” Sebastian grunted, as he launched his counter assault. He used his legs to unbalance the Marquess, and quickly took the opportunity to pin Sutherland to the floor. Sebastian held his friend down, and brought his face close to his - so that they were eye to eye.

  “You sentenced that poor girl to a lifetime with - with -”

  “With the man who loves her?”

  Even when he was pinned to the floor, the Marquess was droll and Sebastian gave a snarl of rage at his ambivalence.

  “No. I mean yes. I mean of course I love her, but I am not what she wants.”

  “Not this again…”

  With little effort, the Marquess shoved his friend off him with such force that Sebastian landed on his back on the dusty tavern floor.

  “That girl is in love with you,” Sutherland said as he stooped to help Sebastian to stand up. Sutherland drew him towards him, as Sebastian staggered to his feet, aided by the Marquess who held his arm in a vice-like grip. “And you are in love with her. But you are such a complete snob, the worst that I have ever met in my whole entire life, and you are too pig-ignorant to see that she loves you back.”

  “Me?” Sebastian stuttered, for once in his life lost for words, not quite sure if he had heard his friend correctly. “Me? A snob?”

  “Yes,” Sutherland replied, flicking Sebastian on the head. “You. You’ve ascribed all these haughty, grandiose beliefs onto Aurelia, when anyone can see she’s madly in love with you. Well, you’d have to be mad to be in love with you.”

  Sebastian ignored his friend, who was chuckling appreciatively at his own wit. Both men had returned to stand at the bar, and the crowd of blood-hungry onlookers had dissipated. While the Marquess resumed supping at his pint as though nothing had happened, Sebastian was thinking hard about what had transpired.

  Was it possible that Aurelia loved him? True, they had shared many passionate kisses - but that did not change what Sebastian had heard her say: nothing less than a Viscountess…

  “I overheard her tell Caroline that her father wanted her to marry a title,” Sebastian muttered, after a few min
utes of silent, convivial drinking.

  “Well of course he did,” Sutherland shrugged, dismissing Sebastian’s worst fear as though it were nothing. “All fathers think their daughter is a princess - but the only thing they want for them is to find a man who thinks the same of her.”

  “I do,” Sebastian said, not able to look his friend in the eye. “I do think she is a princess.”

  “Well,” Sutherland clapped him on the back so hard that Sebastian sloshed his ale all down his front. “If that’s the case, then you’re welcome.”

  “You’re welcome?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

  “You know, for setting the whole thing up.”

  “Don’t push it Gabe,” Sebastian warned, then hailed down Sally to order two more pints - for he did owe his friend a drink.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  .

  They were married in the morning room of Epsom Hall, with just Aurelia’s brother, a maiden Aunt, Lady Beaufort and the Marquess to witness the joining of two souls. Aurelia wore a dress of dove grey, overlaid with lace and intricate stitching on the bodice. Her Lady’s Maid had threaded flowers from the garden through her hair, so that she took on the appearance of a woodland nymph.

  Sebastian stood in formal black, his only concession to colour being the red cravat at his neck. He had never looked so handsome, Aurelia thought with longing. His wound, which she was sure was bothering him, did not prevent him from standing throughout the short ceremony.

  When the minister pronounced them man and wife, a happy round of applause erupted from their guests and Sebastian placed a most chaste kiss upon her lips, that despite its reserve, sent a soft shiver through Aurelia’s body.

  “Mrs. Black, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling the exposed skin of her neck.

  A flood of feelings overcame Aurelia, both exciting and petrifying, rendering her unable to respond. How had this dangerous creature become her husband, and what was she supposed to do with him later, when they were alone?