“A few cross words and a week lacking in intimacy is hardly problematic, Sebastian. Although I should not expect a boy of twenty to know such things.”
“You call me a boy and act as if there is nothing wrong, when it is you who is acting like a child. All I wish is to know how to fix whatever has broken.” Sebastian took a few hesitant steps forward. “Ever since Bronwyn left and the accident, you have grown cooler toward me. And I wish it was not so.”
Anthony’s coldness appeared to melt, and he covered the distance between them in a few strides, taking hold of Sebastian’s hand. “I am tired and irritable. And I have taken out my foul moods on you as an easy target. Believe me when I say I am sorry.”
Sebastian wished he could believe that the answer was so simple, but he couldn’t. “Please, Anthony, I must know the truth. If you have tired of me, if this is no longer what you wish, then I would rather know than continue in this half existence.”
“I could never tire of you. Never.” Anthony looked close to tears. He reached out to cup Sebastian’s jaw, his thumb stroking his cheek. “But I have taken so much from you, removed you from your life and kept you here for my own selfish needs. I cannot help but think it would be better if we had never entered into our agreement.”
Sebastian was quick to answer. “You have not taken anything that was not freely given. I admit that there are days when I wish I was back in London, but I am happy here when we are not fighting. Can we not find a way back to even ground?”
Anthony’s kiss was gentle, a brush of his lips across Sebastian’s. “I would very much like to.”
There was a knock at the door, and they stepped away from each other, Anthony calling out for whoever was outside to come in. The door opened, and Edward entered. Sebastian’s heart sank at the look of warmth Anthony sent in the direction of the blond.
“Edward,” said Anthony, “I was not expecting you for a visit. Why are you here? No doubt to drink my good wine and lighten my purse during cards.”
Edward tried to hold back a choked sob but failed, and, stumbling, he collapsed into a nearby chair. “The Golden Hope has been lost at sea with all hands.”
Anthony was at Edward’s side in an instant, his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Are you sure Marcus was aboard?”
“Yes, he sent word to me last week that he would be.”
Even though Sebastian thought his conversation with Anthony was far from over, he could not ignore the grief painted across Edward’s face. He could continue speaking to Anthony later, but now Edward needed his friend. And Sebastian hoped they’d talked enough to reach a truce they would be able to build on later.
“I am sorry for your loss, Edward. I hope you are mistaken, and your friend was not onboard,” said Sebastian.
Without waiting for Edward’s response, Sebastian hurried out of Anthony’s study, lamenting that it was too late in the afternoon to head out for a ride. The sun was already low in the sky, and he knew Star failed to live up to her name by being rather skittish after dark. He spent a few hours with a new collection of pamphlets that had arrived from London, keeping the more salacious ones for when he was in a better-suited mood.
Supper came and went without Anthony or Edward in attendance, and Sebastian found himself dining alone for the first time in several months. It was very unlike Anthony not to let him know if he did not intend to be at supper, but he suspected Edward’s news was grave enough to dent even the heartiest of appetites.
Deciding to collect the prequel to one of the stories he had planned to read, Sebastian headed to the library. The halls of the manor were quiet, and Sebastian didn’t see a single servant as he made his way through the east wing. With no guests, fewer candles had been lit, and the corridors were darker than normal, so dark that Sebastian only avoided crashing into a suit of armor at the very last moment.
The door to the library was closed, but Sebastian heard a loud groan, followed seconds later by another that made him stop, his hand hovering above the handle. His stomach rolled with queasy anticipation as he reached forward and opened the door, desperate to find that the noises weren’t what he suspected they were.
On the floor in front of the fire was Anthony, kneeling over Edward, their mouths locked in a heated kiss, their hands roaming in a fumbling attempt to unfasten clothing. The firelight illuminated their passion, the reds and oranges dancing across them, painting them in stark relief. Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes off the scene before him, the two men exploring each other with an easy knowledge that showed that this was not the first time they had been together. He gaped wordlessly, as if someone had reached into his mouth and stolen his words, his heart beating so loudly in his chest that he was convinced it would burst. Sebastian staggered backward into the corridor, hitting the wall and connecting with an ornamental sword and shield which, to his mortification, clattered noisily to the floor.
Anthony’s head snapped up at the commotion, breaking the kiss with Edward. Horror flooded his face, his jaw slack and his eyes wide as they rested on Sebastian.
“Sebastian!” he called, trying to get to his feet, while Edward looked equally dismayed.
Sebastian ran. Ignoring Anthony’s calls, he didn’t look back, didn’t want to hear another poor excuse, another pack of lies and insincere apologies. His heart breaking with every step, he raced out of the manor, and didn’t stop until he reached the stables.
One of the senior servants had just arrived. He’d dismounted from a gray stallion, and the groom was removing a pack from the back of the animal. Without thinking, Sebastian pushed the servant out of the way and flung himself into the horse’s saddle. There were cries of consternation from the two men, and the groom reached out to try and grab the reins to stop him. The stallion reared, but Sebastian managed to stay seated, and the servants backed away to avoid the horse’s deadly hooves. Wrestling for control, Sebastian managed to calm the horse enough for it to obey him. Kicking his heels, he urged it out of the courtyard, determined to put as much distance between himself and Anthony Crofton as possible. Sebastian pressed the horse to go faster, and they broke into a gallop.
This stallion had none of Star’s foibles about being ridden at night, nor did it care that they were charging through the wood and being struck by low-lying branches. The ground was soft due to heavy rain in the days before, but the horse was sure-footed and compensated naturally for the slippery surface. Sebastian didn’t care about the cold. While the largely cloudless sky had made the temperature fall, it meant that there was some light from the moon to filter through the branches, which had already lost their summer leaves.
The image of Anthony and Edward was burned into Sebastian’s mind. His vision swam with tears, but he refused to stop, only slowing to a trot in order to conserve the horse’s energy so he could make it to back to London in one ride. Reaching open ground, Sebastian saw the main road to the capital and made for it. He’d left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the coins in his purse that Anthony had given him for playing cards. It was hardly enough to buy food for a few days, let alone lodgings. His only real option was to head to the townhouse and hope Claire would let him in without asking too many questions, though he knew that was unlikely.
Sebastian could see the city in the distance, the glow from thousands of candlelit windows lighting up the night’s sky even though it must be close to midnight. Nausea built up inside of him. How could he have been so stupid to think that a man like Anthony Crofton would be happy to settle for him when there was someone like Edward nearby? How could he have let himself fall so far in love with a man who would never see him as anything more than a convenience? He brushed away his tears, but releasing his emotions did nothing to ease the pain of Anthony’s betrayal. The broken promise that Sebastian would be his only lover while he played Bronwyn was nothing but false words to keep him quiet.
As Sebastian entered the city, the roads began to look familiar, and he decided he would return the horse to Anthony’s tow
nhouse in the morning. It was much easier to cross London late at night, the occasional carriage taking the richer members of society home and the odd cart of goods was the only traffic, and it was not long before Sebastian was dismounting in the small courtyard at the back of Claire’s family’s townhouse.
As he tied the horse to a post, the door to the kitchens opened, and he saw the cook appear holding a lantern. “Who is it?” she called out.
She squinted at him as he got closer. “Master Sebastian. We were not expecting you, sir. Nothing is prepared.”
“Who is it, Daisy?” came Claire’s voice from inside.
The cook stepped out of the way to let Sebastian in, and Claire’s face morphed quickly to concern. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story.”
Claire grabbed Sebastian by the arm and dragged him down the corridor and into a small parlor leading off the dining room. She pressed a glass of port into his hand. “What has happened?”
“I have been a fool,” he said, knocking back the port in one gulp and spluttering as it almost choked him.
Claire refilled his glass. “Sip it this time. You already look half dead—we don’t want you to complete the effect. Now why have you been a fool?”
Sebastian stared at the surface of the deep red liquid. “I caught him in the arms of another man.”
Claire bit her lip. “How is that a problem, Sebastian? You are only playing his wife. I don’t understand why you would be so upset.”
“We had come to an understanding, and I took him at his word.”
“Please tell me you have not fallen in love with Anthony Crofton.”
Sebastian couldn’t look at her. “I can’t.”
“Oh, Sebastian.” Claire moved to embrace him. “How did this happen?”
“I told you we had an understanding. He said there would only be me.” He whispered his answer. “We were often intimate. And when we were together, he was so gentle, treating me as if I was something special, but I am nothing special to him.”
The tears rolled freely, and Claire held him as he sobbed. She stroked his hair and rocked him to and fro to try and calm him. “Shush now, Cousin. He is not worth your tears.”
“And yet I must go back at some point. We have an arrangement that I play Bronwyn. I do not have the money to pay him back. Everything went to pay my father’s debts to yours.”
“We will think of something, Sebastian. I promise.” She squeezed him tight. “Does Crofton claim to care for you at all?”
“I thought he did,” he said.
“Then maybe we can work something out, find a way to pay him back. He may allow you some time.”
Sebastian sniffed loudly and pulled out of Claire’s embrace, wiping his eyes and nose on the back of his sleeve. “You are probably right. But now all I can think is how much of an idiot I have been.”
“Come, Sebastian, a good night’s sleep will do you well. It is a natural cure for many of life’s ills.”
Sebastian’s wedding ring, still on his right hand from when he moved it after changing out of Bronwyn’s clothes, mocked him with the dullness of its surface. He slid it off and handed it Claire. “Please put this somewhere. I cannot bear to look upon it.”
Chapter 19
SLEEP had done little to settle Sebastian’s fraught emotions, but the exhaustion had at least lifted. Claire looked sympathetic over breakfast, and Sebastian, who barely touched the food, refused to talk to her further on the subject of Anthony.
“Should I write to Bronwyn?” she asked.
“Good lord, no! After the inevitable I-told-you-so speech on how I have been a complete fool, I do not wish to have to watch her be executed for murder when she descends on Crofton Hall to confront Anthony.”
Claire sighed but didn’t argue. “So what will you do today? If I am honest, I did not expect you to leave your room for several days.”
“I refuse to sit around and brood. I may have played a woman, but I am not one. First things first, I need to return the horse, and then I am going to see if I can find some work.”
“You do not need to rush, Sebastian. Father has not decreased the allowance to keep the house running, even though both you and Bronwyn have left.”
Sebastian shook his head. “It will do me no good to sit here and do nothing. At least I can try the theaters for work—maybe I can pick up something.”
Before he left, Claire fussed over him, pulling on the collar of his doublet until he batted her hands away. “Promise me you will not worry if you don’t find anything straightaway.”
Escaping her attentions, Sebastian went through the house to the courtyard, and was pleased to see that the horse he had borrowed had been fed and showed no sign of fatigue. He checked the saddle and the rest of the tack, and then mounted, guiding it out into the London streets. Sebastian suspected by how the stallion handled the busy roads that Anthony or someone in his household must’ve used this horse in the city before, as, apart from the occasional whinny, he behaved impeccably.
Outside the Crofton townhouse, Sebastian dismounted and walked the stallion through to the courtyard. He spotted one of the young boys who ran errands for the kitchen staff and handed him the reins. “This is the earl’s horse. See that he hears that it has been returned safely.”
The boy nodded, and Sebastian slipped away before he could be asked any questions.
He headed across London, his familiarity with the city lightening his heart a little. Crossing over the bridge, he walked along the Thames to the theater district and caught sight of a familiar face outside the entrance of the Swan.
“Philip!” he shouted.
The man who’d played Benedick to his Beatrice turned around to see who’d called his name and, spying Sebastian, grinned broadly and waved him over.
“Sebastian, I haven’t seen you for months! Where the devil have you been hiding?”
“My sister ran off to Kent, and I had to go and find her,” he said, rushing over the words to hide the lie and accepting Philip’s friendly hug in greeting.
“Family. The bane of a sane man’s life.”
“Very true, my friend. So, are you appearing in something here?” he asked, gesturing toward the theater.
“We’re doing Two Gentleman of Verona—again. But it seems to be popular so we can’t be picky. Work is work after all. And you?”
“Well, that is why I’m very glad to run into you.” Sebastian had always found it awkward asking for this kind of help, but he had no choice at the moment, and if he could save a morning trekking from theater to theater to find only dead ends, then he’d ask. “Have you heard of anyone auditioning? I’m willing to try out for anything… I need to earn some money.”
Philip patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a bit old for the young heroine now,” he said, but not unkindly. “You could try your luck at the Rose—they’re looking for a few extras for a Marlowe, but if I’m honest, Sebastian, I’m not sure you’ll have much success. Not with so many travelling actors returning to the city now that winter is setting in.”
Sebastian knew it was what he should’ve expected to hear, but it didn’t make the words any less disappointing. “Can you think of anything else?”
“The Globe is after people to work behind the scenes, if you’re willing to forego the actual acting,” said Philip, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “People are always after jobs, but I don’t think you’ll have a problem since you know how theaters really work.”
“Showmanship and a large cloud of face powder.”
“Exactly.” Philip laughed. “I’m sorry, but I must go or I’ll be late for rehearsal. It was good to see you, Sebastian. If you’re staying in London, I insist we meet for a drink or six.”
Philip hurried away, and Sebastian set off in the direction of the Globe, a little further down South Bank. As he passed through the entrance gate, the atmosphere that he always associated with the theater washed over him, the magic of the stage making the hair stan
d up on the back of his neck. There was a buzz about the Globe. A group of actors were on stage, one lying on his side while three others stood around him reciting their lines. Sebastian lingered awhile to watch. They stopped and started, cursed about the phrasing, or swapped places, claiming that the new positions were better.
“Can I help you?” asked a short man carrying a pile of costumes. He couldn’t have been much older than Sebastian, but his grimace made him older, as did his flushed cheeks, the redness clashing with his ginger hair.
“I’m looking for a job.”
“So is ’alf of London. Piss off.”
Sebastian glowered at him, doubting the other man would have any power over hiring anybody. “I was told the theater needs people to work behind the scenes.”
The man looked Sebastian up and down. “We need people to lug boxes and crawl about to set the scenery, not some pretty boy in fine clothes who’ll moan if he gets a bit dirty.”
Sebastian knew he was still dressed in the clothes Anthony had bought him, and while they were expensive, they were so rumpled he couldn’t seriously believe anyone would take his appearance to mean he was too good for menial work. “I am more than happy to crawl about under the stage or cart anything that needs carting.”
“Jonah, what are you doing?” The question came from an older man dressed in expensive clothes who had the most piercing gray eyes Sebastian had ever seen.
“He says he wants a job,” answered Jonah, nodding at Sebastian.
“And what has that to do with you? Get those costumes to the seamstress and stop dawdling.”
Jonah muttered something under his breath but went on his way.
“He is keen, but annoying,” said the newcomer, holding out his hand to shake, which Sebastian did. “The name’s David Chapel. And I’m positive I know you from somewhere.”
“I’ve been an actor—women mainly,” said Sebastian, hoping that was from where he was recognized and not from David being an acquaintance of Anthony and having met him as Bronwyn.
The Actor and the Earl Page 16
