The whalebone creaked in the farthingale as he moved, and the roll shifted uncomfortably under the skirt. He was very glad that he had little appetite. The prospect of eating supper while being squeezed by the corset made his stomach ache. Looking at himself in the mirror, he was in part disturbed that he made quite a handsome woman, though he wouldn’t go as far as to describe himself as attractive, and also that he really did look like Bronwyn. It was one thing to play a woman on stage but another to pass for one in real life. He sighed loudly, wondering just what he had gotten himself into.
“Earl Crofton has arrived,” Claire said as she stepped into his room. “Turn around, let’s get a good look at you.”
Sebastian felt rather like one of the harlots advertising their wares on South Bank as Claire eyed him up and down. She retied the lacing of his sleeves to stop them coming loose, and with a firm tug pulled the corset tighter, further cinching his waist, and rearranged his wig so the ringlets fell over the front of his shoulders.
Claire sighed happily. “I told you that you would have no problem posing as Bronwyn, but with the makeup you look prettier than the poor girl usually manages. I will be proud to present you to Anthony Crofton and play your chaperone.”
Sebastian frowned. “Really, Claire, you are too cruel.”
“I speak only the truth.”
“First time for everything,” he muttered under his breath.
“Are you ready?”
Sebastian lifted the hem of his skirts to reveal his stockinged feet. “Small problem: no shoes.”
Claire stared at his feet, hands on her hips. “Not sure I can do anything about that. There’s no way your hooves would fit in my slippers, even if we were to cut the backs off.”
“I’ll just have to put my boots back on and remember to take small steps so they don’t show. There’s no way I’m going barefoot.”
With some difficultly, due to the corset and whalebone, Sebastian managed to bend down far enough to put on his boots, and a steadying arm from Claire made sure he didn’t fall as he swayed.
“So it is just the three of us for supper?” he asked as he straightened up.
“Yes—there’s no need to extend this ruse further than necessary. These sorts of secrets are easily divulged if not careful.”
“At first I was just feeling sorry for myself. Now I’m beginning to feel sorry for him.”
“Why should you? He must want this marriage as some sort of cover for himself. No man of his looks and standing would’ve settled for Bronwyn,” said Claire, once again checking his appearance. “And the portrait he received of Bronwyn made her more plain than pretty. Mark my words, Sebastian, there is more going on here than him wanting a wife.”
“If you have these doubts, why did your father agree to give Crofton Bronwyn’s hand?” he asked, becoming more concerned by the minute.
“Because my father does not share them—he thinks Earl Crofton is perfectly suitable.”
“It sounds like Bronwyn did the right thing by eloping.”
“He may be a man of secrets, but he is definitely a man with a heavy purse.”
She ushered him out of the room and down the stairs, and Sebastian thanked the heavens that he was used to navigating small passageways while wearing a long, wide dress behind the scenes at the Swan. They stopped at the foot of the staircase for Claire to give him a final appraising glance, and she nodded her approval. “And remember, small steps. I don’t want to see your scuffed boots!”
The wood-paneled dining room was illuminated by candlelight that danced in patterns across the table set for three, but the room was still dark enough for Sebastian to relax a little. A heady aroma of dried flowers added to the intimate atmosphere created by the low light.
But Sebastian didn’t have time to enjoy the ambiance, as the whirlwind that was Earl Anthony Crofton appeared in front of him and grabbed his hand, only to plant a delicate kiss on the back of it. “At last we meet.”
As much as it pained him to admit it, Claire had been right—which was twice in two days, and that made Sebastian nervous. But Anthony Crofton was undeniably handsome, and there was no way he would have been romantically interested in plain old Bronwyn.
Earl Crofton was tall, nearly six feet, and dressed in the height of courtly fashion. His dark-red doublet emphasized his broad chest, and his muscular legs showcased his hose and garter. He had a long face, accented by his short brown hair and beard trimmed to perfection, and Sebastian noticed a golden earring in his left lobe.
There was no denying that the earl was attractive, and Sebastian knew that it was not just the elaborate dress and makeup that were making his temperature rise. Despite having spent the last few years as an actor, he’d not lived up to the reputation that many of his colleagues had more than earned, and the earl’s appearance was stirring feelings that he usually had the good sense to ignore.
“I have been eagerly awaiting your arrival, Earl Crofton,” Sebastian said in the falsetto voice he’d used the night before for Beatrice.
“Please, call me Anthony.” He bowed low before letting go of Sebastian’s hand. “Your picture did not do you justice.”
“You are too kind.”
Supper was a more elaborate affair than he was used to, Claire having arranged a wide selection of meats, cheese, and bread, accompanied by wine. Sebastian was seated between Claire and Anthony, and Claire played an excellent hostess, keeping the conversation flowing without allowing it to travel in the wrong direction.
Sebastian couldn’t help but notice the lingering looks the earl was giving him. Although not unexpected—as he was meant to be the earl’s prospective wife—the close examination made him uncomfortable, and he feared that at any moment their scheme would be discovered.
Anthony was every bit as charming as he was handsome, and Sebastian found himself enjoying the evening despite the plan. He was careful only to sip the wine in a manner he hoped appeared ladylike, and he had no problem eating genteelly, as his corset squeezed his appetite as much as his waist. Anthony told stories that swung from dramatic to bordering on the risqué, and entertained his fellow diners with his adventures at court, much to Claire’s delight.
“And of course there was the matter of Lord Hettingshaw and the parrot. You have heard it?” asked Anthony, his eyes bright.
“No,” said Claire, leaning closer. “What happened?”
“Hettingshaw is well known for his vanity, but with a head of golden curls, many believed he was more than entitled. At one of the Christmas feasts at Richmond, there was a display of exotic birds, including a very lively parrot. It flew around and around the hall, only to make for Hettingshaw’s head. Now, I don’t know why the creature had set its sights on him, but it swooped down, and next thing I saw was those famous curls soaring to the ceiling and a very bald Hettingshaw racing from the room.”
Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh, but it was more restrained than Claire’s cackling, and Anthony appeared to notice his reserve and changed the topic.
“The plans for the wedding are coming along well, I assume?” asked Anthony.
Sebastian was relieved when Claire answered. “Yes, the church is prepared—Father Michaels at St. Mary’s has been most accommodating, and Bronwyn will have the final fitting of her dress tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” said Anthony. He smiled. “I shall never be a bachelor of threescore.”
Sebastian nearly choked on the piece of cheese he was eating, Anthony’s words far too close to one of Benedick’s laments about marriage from Much Ado About Nothing for it to be mere coincidence. He stared wide-eyed at Anthony, who raised his glass as a salute.
After the last of supper was consumed, Anthony turned to Sebastian and, with a glorious smile, asked, “Perhaps you would be good enough to take the evening air with me? A stroll in the courtyard would aid my digestion, and your presence would make the night’s air sweeter.”
Sebastian smiled, trying not to show his discomfort. “Sir, I ha
rdly think it proper….”
Claire waved away his concerns. “I’m sure Earl Crofton has no designs on your innocence this side of the chapel.”
With no chance of reprieve, Sebastian took the arm Anthony offered, and the pair of them left the townhouse and strolled into the private courtyard. Anthony said nothing until they reached a small bench under a pear tree that was bathed in moonlight and away from any prying eyes or ears.
Whatever Sebastian had expected Anthony to say, it certainly wasn’t what came out of the other man’s mouth. “I saw your performance at the Swan last night. You were superb—but tonight you were remarkable.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you don’t,” replied Anthony, his lips close to Sebastian’s ear, his hand resting on Sebastian’s thigh. “Just like you aren’t really Bronwyn’s twin brother, Sebastian Hewel.”
Sebastian turned his head to face Anthony. He swallowed thickly, not knowing what to say, the pressure of being caught mingling with his attraction to the earl. “I….”
“I know the Hewel family has fallen on hard times, but I had not realized just how much the coffers had been depleted.”
“My late father was unlucky with some of his investments,” said Sebastian, his voice now his normal cadence. There was no point in keeping up the pretence, not with Anthony this close. “And we were unable to recoup the donations we made to the crown to support the wars against the Spanish, so much so that we owe Claire’s father a significant sum of money.”
“And you hoped a favorable marriage would solve this?”
“The money you have so generously given for Bronwyn’s hand paid off the last of my father’s debts.”
“So what of your sister, Sebastian? Or were you always meant to play my bride?”
“Hardly. She has run off with a man she thinks herself in love with.”
Anthony laughed. “Clever girl.”
“So it seems.”
Sebastian watched as Anthony examined him closely, his eyes taking in his appearance from head to toe. “What now? You know what we planned to do.”
“I think the plan has merits,” Anthony replied with a sly grin. “And I think that we can come to an arrangement that will prevent me from having to sully the once-great Hewel name.”
Sebastian didn’t like the sound of that, the words too close to blackmail for his comfort. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“If you are willing to keep up this charade, continue to play Bronwyn, then I in turn would take up the mantle of devoted husband.”
“What?”
“Your greatest performance, Sebastian. Fool the court and polite society in an extravagant wedding, then retire to my country house to be my beloved wife for perhaps a year or two, after which time my young, but sickly, wife will succumb to a fever, and you will return to your life as Sebastian Hewel.”
For a moment Sebastian was unable to reply, Anthony’s shocking proposal robbing him of words. “But why would you want this?”
Anthony’s smile was predatory. “I have my reasons.”
“But—”
“No buts, Sebastian. Do you have your answer? A life of luxury and your honor, or your family’s disgrace?”
Sebastian’s heart raced in his chest, but as he stared into Anthony’s expectant face, he really had little choice. “I accept.”
“I thought you might.”
“I will send my tailor to call on you in the morning. He’s a loyal man, so have no qualms that he will say anything about our plan.” Anthony stood up. “I’m assuming the dress made for your sister for the wedding will need some alteration. And if the style of that dress is anything to go by, you’ll need a new wardrobe to go with your new role.”
Sebastian scowled as Anthony bowed low and left. The arrogance of the man appalled him, but he was more appalled at the mess he’d managed to land himself in.
Chapter 3
BREAKFAST was an unappealing prospect for Sebastian as he waited for Anthony’s tailor to arrive. Claire had laid out a red silk dress that he would wear for the wedding, but had wisely chosen not to linger, as his foul mood was more than evident from his sour expression.
His wallowing was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Sebastian opened it to find a small man of middling age waiting patiently. “Yes?”
“I am Davis, sir. Earl Crofton’s tailor.”
Sebastian moved to one side to let the other man enter. “I did not expect the earl to send someone so early.”
“His Grace informed me that time was of the essence. I only need to take a few measurements, and I’ll be on my way. If you would strip down to your shift and hose, sir, I would appreciate it.”
Sebastian removed his doublet and breeches, idly wondering how often he would get to dress as a man once at Crofton Hall. He consented to ten minutes of the tailor fussing about his person. It wasn’t as if the experience was new to Sebastian, having been tended to by the family’s tailor and fitted for costumes, but he was eager for Davis to finish his business and leave him in peace.
“All done, sir,” said Davis. “I’ll take the dress with me and return it tomorrow.”
The tailor gathered up the dress with great care, handling each piece with reverence. “I also have a message from His Grace. He asked that if you were amenable, he would like you to meet him at The Anchor at midday.”
Sebastian nodded. “Tell him I will be there.”
The tailor bowed and left Sebastian on his own once more.
SEBASTIAN stepped into the tavern, leaving behind the bustle of Clink Street. He weaved through the clusters of other patrons, who sat in small groups drinking wine and talking earnestly, unbothered by his presence, until he found an empty table by a window at the back. He attempted to stare out of the small panes of glass, but the dirt on their surface made it difficult to see much further than a few feet from the tavern. He looked up as a pewter tankard was set down on the table in front of him.
Anthony Crofton sat down and smiled. “Thank you for coming, Sebastian.”
“Given the ferocity with which my cousin is approaching the wedding preparations, I’m more than happy to be away from the townhouse for a few hours.”
Anthony’s gaze was appraising, and Sebastian knew his cheeks were reddening at the attention. “You are even more becoming out of the dress,” said Anthony, his voice low as he leaned in close.
Sebastian’s eyes darted around the tavern, conscious they were surrounded. The party of three men to their right was engrossed in a conversation about the quality of a recent batch of silk, while the group of men to their left was playing cards and had no care for listening to his and Anthony’s conversation.
“Earl Crofton—”
“I told you yesterday to call me Anthony. Nothing has changed with a new day.” Anthony saluted Sebastian with his tankard of red wine before taking a long drink.
“Perhaps you should be more prudent with your words. We are in public, after all.”
Anthony snorted. “No one cares, Sebastian. What the law says and how the law acts are two very different things—especially when you have money and the ear of Queen Elizabeth.”
“Not all of us have your privileges.”
“But you can.” Anthony sat back in his chair. “And I’ll be able to protect you, no matter what the cattiest of tongues might say.”
“Protection is not what I would call the farce we are about to enact.”
“A wedding will silence even the loudest voice.”
Sebastian stared at Anthony with new understanding. “So that is the reason you need this marriage. Are there rumors that are too close for your comfort, Anthony?”
“You are as clever as you are alluring.” Anthony took another long drink. “Sometimes it is prudent to prove your detractors wrong, and my marriage to Bronwyn Hewel will do exactly that.”
“My cousin suspected that was your motive for this marriage.”
“As you will learn, the court ca
n be a fickle creature. It never hurts to plan for all eventualities. ”
“Was one marriage not enough? Although you certainly don’t appear to be a grieving widower.”
Anthony’s smile faltered, but only for a moment. “Jane was a good friend—one I had known from childhood—and our marriage was arranged by our families long before I could even walk. But as much as I love the son she gave me, she was not my great love, and I was certainly not hers.”
Sebastian took a drink from his tankard. “Should I not ask who your great love was?”
“If such a remarkable person exists, then I have not yet had the good fortune to meet them. But what of you, Sebastian? Are you leaving a string of girls heartbroken, thanks to our arrangement?”
“I….” Sebastian found the contents of his tankard suddenly very interesting. “There is no one.”
“So there is one tradition we are keeping—my bride will be virginal.” Anthony’s eyes sparkled with humor, and Sebastian was relieved to see no hint of malice.
“I would not say that I am completely untouched, but I have not engaged much with the fairer sex.”
“And with the not-so-fair sex?”
Sebastian quickly looked around to check they were still of little interest to their fellow patrons before answering. “Maybe a fraction more, but nothing of great note.”
Anthony leaned in closer, his breath hot against Sebastian’s skin. “Then maybe we can come to a further agreement. A man as young and beautiful as you should not want for a bedmate, and I would promise to ensure your pleasure.”
Sebastian pulled back. Anthony was so close he could hardly breathe, let alone formulate an answer. “I….”
“Take your time to think. I would not force you into such a situation, but if you wish it, then I believe it could be mutually beneficial.”
The Actor and the Earl Page 2
