by Jane Ashford
Sykes conceded with a nod, and wrote.
Sebastian resumed dictation. “So I need something to repel dogs,” he said. “Maybe some herb or ointment from an apothecary. If Nathaniel could discover a mixture that keeps them off me without disgusting people, particularly female people, and have it sent along posthaste, that would do the trick.”
“Hmm,” murmured Sykes.
“You know of something?” Sykes’s brain was stuffed with facts of every description. “I should have thought to ask you.”
“I believe dogs dislike the odor of vinegar, my lord.”
“Well, so do I. So does anyone. I can’t go about smelling of vinegar.”
“No, my lord.”
Sebastian examined him. Any other man, even a servant, might have been tempted to laugh at this point. He would have himself, if the shoe had been on some other poor fellow’s foot. He wouldn’t even have minded, very much. Sykes sat poised at the writing desk, resolutely in character. His idea of a proper valet was imperturbable. But if you looked carefully, you could see his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. Pugs would figure in his next dramatic opus, Sebastian suspected.
“I will look into the question further,” Sykes said.
“Splendid.” Sebastian remembered something. “Mitra seems to think that Georgina’s mother has the dogs trained to… Well, I don’t know. Do her bidding somehow. You might see about that as well.”
“See?” Sykes cocked his head, brows raised.
“What she’s up to.”
“The marchioness?”
“That’s it.” Sebastian gathered his thoughts and went on. “I’m also desperately in need of amusements for two girls aged about fifteen and thirteen,” he dictated. “Anything, doesn’t matter how much it costs. But quickly. Underline that part,” he told Sykes. “Make sure Nathaniel knows it’s more important than the bit about the dogs.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I don’t suppose you have any ideas on that score?” It was hard to imagine. But you never knew with Sykes.
“I fear not, my lord.”
Sebastian nodded, unsurprised. “I’ve got to find something to occupy them. You don’t know what I’ve endured. They never stop talking, especially Hilda. I no sooner sit down than they appear and start in on me.”
He didn’t think that Emma and Hilda were trying to keep him away from Georgina. On the contrary, they were inordinately interested in when he would be kissing her in the shrubbery again. But their constant presence meant that he’d had no chance to speak to his intended about their…interlude in the back parlor. Georgina seemed calm enough when he saw her. But how else was she to appear before everyone?
As Sykes went off to dispatch the letter, Sebastian brooded among his open trunks. On the one hand, he was afraid he’d gone too fast and spooked his betrothed. He needed to make sure she was all right. Because, on the other hand, he wanted nothing more than to resume their exciting explorations, as soon and as thoroughly as she wished. Memories of the feel of her colored his days and haunted his nights. He’d never wanted any woman so much. This was splendid news for the future, he supposed. She would be his wife in a few weeks’ time. But at present it was more of a penance—to be so close to her and yet always in public.
Four
The marquess’s expedition to show his guest Offa’s Dyke had been put off by a period of heavy rain. But it was to happen at last early in August. Though she feared Sebastian would be bored by her father’s historical orations, Georgina was glad for the chance to get out of the house and breathe freer air. She was certain Sebastian felt the same; he was a cavalryman, after all, accustomed to days on horseback.
Even if the size and composition of the group wouldn’t allow for carefree gallops, it was splendid to be out of doors. And so as she guided her favorite mount over to join Papa, Fergus, Sebastian, and her sisters in the stable courtyard, Georgina smiled. It was barely ten. The sun was warm and the skies clear as they set off, clattering through the gate arch and out onto the path leading down from the castle.
Sebastian on horseback was a lovely sight, she thought. He rode as if born in the saddle, and his magnificent horse obviously loved him. The beast danced and curveted with delight at being out of the stable, and Sebastian laughed as he allowed him a bit of fun. He seemed as joyous as Whitefoot.
Watching her fiancé effortlessly control his spirited mount inspired all sorts of reactions. Georgina was full of admiration, hesitation, yearning. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Indeed, she’d thought of little else since their stolen embraces in the little parlor at the back of the castle. Recalling those moments set her aflame, and she did so all the time. Her knees had been stretched out on either side of those powerful thighs, now encased in snug buckskin breeches, she thought. Immediately, she felt as if she’d been dipped in steaming water. She flushed all over. She turned her horse so that the others wouldn’t see the blush.
Her arms had been around Sebastian’s neck. He’d kissed her so sweetly. Whenever she passed near the small parlor now, she longed to open the door and find him there and pick up where they’d left off. If his fingers had moved just a little further that evening, a few aching inches, what new realms of pleasure might have been revealed? Georgina’s pulse thudded at the thought.
Sebastian glanced back at her and smiled. She could see no censure in his face, but she could hear her grandmother’s scandalized voice, scolding her for going so far beyond the line. Her chief arbiter of proper social behavior—the preceptress who had guided her through a successful London season—would have been filled with horror at her behavior. It wouldn’t matter a whit to her that they were engaged. She would declare Georgina’s reputation in tatters.
Her mother’s remarks had seemed to give her a kind of permission, Georgina argued to herself. But she suspected—no, knew—that the advice had been meant for after the wedding. She didn’t suppose Mama had pictured anything like what she’d done.
Georgina watched Sebastian ride along ahead of her. She wanted him to think well of her. Did he see her now as a wanton? Did he wonder where she’d learned such a trick? A huff of air escaped her. She rather wondered that herself. It had all seemed so natural, until he’d drawn away and set her aside like an unwanted doll. Then she’d been uneasy.
She didn’t know how to talk about it with him. Should they ever have an opportunity for a private discussion. Emma and Hilda would not be persuaded to leave Sebastian alone. Georgina had unwisely voiced doubts about whether they could be added to her future household, and this uncertainty made them cling even harder.
Her father increased the pace as they reached the bottom of the ridge where the castle lay. He led them west onto a track that passed through forest and around crag. The country was green from the rain, scented with wildflowers and evergreen. The summer light would last well into evening. This expedition would be idyllic if she wasn’t bursting with worry and impatience.
Georgina urged her horse into a lope to work off some of that excess energy. Sebastian started to follow, but he was stopped by a wave from her father, who called his attention to a scenic vista. For a family that approved her match, they were awfully quick to come between them, Georgina thought, fuming. She urged her mount onward, leaning forward and welcoming the wind on her face.
After half an hour’s ride, Sebastian was more than ready to reach their destination. He’d had no chance to talk with Georgina. Her father seemed to think that he wished to know the history of each hill they passed, and in this long-disputed border district, each inch of ground appeared to have a tale. If the marquess didn’t know it, he got Fergus to remind him. The fellow was more steward than butler, Sebastian decided, even though he served at table in the castle. He was more henchman than either.
At last, Georgina’s father pulled up. “There it is,” he said, gesturing at the ground before them as if presenting Sebas
tian with a special gift.
Sebastian surveyed the terrain. A hump of earth extended right and left ahead, matching the contours of the land as it stretched off into the distance. It looked a bit like a military earthwork, though worn and eroded in places. “Did they have a palisade on top?” he asked.
The marquess nodded approvingly. “No way to know, after a thousand years. But it makes sense, and I believe so. You’re sharp to spot it straightaway.”
Sebastian had been trained to think like a soldier. “It would take a good many men to defend this,” he remarked.
“The army of Mercia,” replied his host. “Though it was hardly what we think of as an army. Each landholder was bound to provide a troop of armsmen. So you had a few competent swordsmen and archers leading a rabble of farmers with makeshift weapons.”
“Against the Welsh,” Sebastian said.
“Right. The Dyke marks a bloody border. The name of Offa’s kingdom, Mercia, means border people. And it didn’t end with him, by any means. Owen Tudor fought and died not far north of here.” The marquess turned in the saddle and called to Emma. “You remember who Owen Tudor was, my dear?”
When Emma looked blank, Hilda replied for her. “The founder of the Tudor royal line, Papa. Ancestor of Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth.”
“Exactly. Have you forgotten your local history, Emma?”
Both his younger daughters smiled at him with fond impatience. “Yes, Papa,” said Emma. “You know I don’t care about fusty old facts.”
“But you must feel something of the spirit of this place,” their father said. “The echo of clashing spear points, the blood-soaked earth.”
“Euww,” said Emma.
“You know you decided that I have the sensitivity of a flint pebble,” Hilda added, showing no regret over this assessment.
“Is it only Edgar then who shares my connection to the land?” came the plaintive reply.
“Well, he will inherit it,” replied Hilda, ever practical. “But Georgina knows all that stuff, too.”
Sebastian looked at his intended with interest. Here was another side to her. She didn’t seem pleased to be singled out, however, so he searched for a remark to turn the subject. “It’s certainly lonely country,” he said. “It’s miles since we passed a village.” There was a sameness to the lines of ridges as well. “Must be easy to get lost out here.”
Hilda looked oddly struck by this obvious fact.
“There’s a story of a Stane losing himself in the border country,” said the marquess with a nod.
“Geoffrey,” Georgina said.
“Seems he fell in love with a Welsh lass,” her father continued. “This was three hundred and fifty years ago, you understand, when Britain was in a right turmoil. Wars of the Roses. Border tensions very high.”
Sebastian nodded to show that he was paying attention. He did wonder what kind of battle you could fight with roses.
“Nothing could stop young Geoffrey from crossing to visit his lady, however,” said the marquess. “Not the wrath of her father or the threat of attack. And then one night as he was riding for home, a thick fog descended upon him.”
“That’s bad,” commented Sebastian. Maneuvers in the fog were a bear.
His host nodded. “He would have been wise to stop and wait for it to clear,” he went on. “But he was stubborn and eager to reach Stane again before he was missed. So he pushed on and soon wandered off the track. By the time he knew it, though, evening was coming.”
“Dark and fog,” Sebastian said. “Shouldn’t have tried it.”
Georgina’s father nodded. “No one knows what happened to him,” he added. “Geoffrey of Stane was never seen again. They searched, of course, but found no sign of him or his mount. Travelers do sometimes report the sound of hooves echoing on the trails, when there’s a fog, with never any trace of a rider.”
Emma shivered. Hilda looked around as if she’d very much like to see the specter of Geoffrey come clopping from behind one of the hills.
“His younger brother inherited,” said Georgina in a prosaic tone. “I imagine he was a better landlord than Geoffrey would have been.”
“Because Geoffrey risked everything for love, and lost?” Sebastian asked. As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t, because there was an odd pause, as if everyone was listening for her answer.
“Because he didn’t have the common sense to wait out a fog,” she answered. Pulling on the reins, she turned her horse and rode off along the Dyke.
The group followed, ambling along the course of the earthwork for quite a time. It all seemed much the same, with no obvious features of interest beyond its mere existence. As the sun passed the zenith and began to descend, they turned back. Fergus distributed some dry sandwiches from his saddlebags, and they ate as they rode.
The two older men fell into conversation about the estate. Emma and Hilda began a racing game. And at last, Sebastian found a chance to ride beside Georgina. He seized it, but received only monosyllabic responses to his remarks about the day and the sights. “Is all well?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied Georgina, although in truth she was struggling with the feelings roused by their embraces.
“The other day…” Sebastian began.
She waited. She was wild to hear what he had to say, but she wasn’t going to finish the sentence for him.
“In the parlor,” he added.
As if there was any other day he might mean, in the circumstances. Georgina had never minded before that Sebastian was a man of few words. It had been a pleasant contrast to London’s incessant chatterers. Now, however, she wished he would get on with it.
“I don’t know if an apology…?”
Georgina found that this wasn’t at all what she wanted to hear. “Are you sorry?”
Sebastian offered her his charming smile. “Well, if you’re angry, I’m sorry. Are you?”
She wasn’t angry. Would a proper young lady be angry? Did he think she should be? “It’s not sort of thing I do. You mustn’t think that I have ever before acted so… In such a way.”
“Of course.”
Of course he knew that? Or of course he knew he mustn’t think so? “If we weren’t engaged, I would never have allowed such…liberties.” There was a fine word, she thought. As if they had a choice to be free, instead of hemmed in by rules and expectations.
“Naturally,” replied Sebastian. “I understand. I went too far.”
“Good, then.” He didn’t look happy with this exchange. She certainly wasn’t. But she had no idea how to tell him that she’d adored what they did, and wanted to do it again as soon as possible. Providing he understood that she wouldn’t consider such wantonness with anyone but him. With him, she would consider… Well, she didn’t even know, exactly. She was open to suggestion. Instruction. Seduction? One didn’t say such things out loud.
“You know…” he began.
But she didn’t get to hear what he thought she knew. With a thunder of hooves, Emma and Hilda came galloping up. They raced in a circle around them, rousing strong objections from Sebastian’s mount and a snort from Georgina’s. “Hilda!” said Georgina as her sisters slowed to join them. It was always Hilda who instigated the uproar.
“We saw a stag,” replied the youngest Stane. “But Emma wouldn’t ride after it.”
“It would have left us behind in a minute,” said Emma. “And I do not care to jump a hedged ditch.”
“How many points?” asked Sebastian. He’d gone deer stalking at a friend’s house in Scotland. It was good sport.
Emma shrugged, clearly uninterested in the beast. “What sort of riding habits do the fashionable ladies wear in Hyde Park?” She indicated her own buff costume with a contemptuous gesture. “They must be much smarter than this.”
Sebastian certainly noticed a fine figure of a girl in clos
e-fitting riding dress. The cut of a habit could be more revealing than a ball gown. Indeed, he’d been admiring Georgina’s enticing outline in hers. But as to the habits themselves, he had nothing to say. They were different colors. Some had bits of decoration. His brother Robert would probably have a host of opinions on this subject. Sebastian had none. “I’ve seen epaulettes on some of them,” he remembered. “And frogging.” They’d seemed to be trying for the look of a military uniform, which was odd, now that he thought about it.
“Is that the latest thing?” asked Hilda.
“Why do you never ask me?” said Georgina. “You must know that I’m much more familiar with fashion than Sebastian.”
“We want to know what the gentlemen like,” replied her youngest sister.
“Hilda!”
“It’s all very well for you,” the other girl retorted. “You had Great-Uncle George’s fortune, and so your future was settled like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Emma and I will have a much harder time of it.”
“When did you become so vulgar?” said Georgina, wondering what a son of the Duke of Langford could be thinking of this conversation.
“I’ve always been,” Hilda replied cheerfully. “If that’s what you call telling the truth. Mama says plain speaking is the only sensible course in life.”
She did say that, Georgina admitted silently, and do it, too. As a child, Georgina had accepted this frankness as simply the way of things, but since she’d been to London and suffered the consequences of a few gaffes, she wasn’t so sure. She did know that Sebastian had been trained to a high standard of civility. Anyone watching his mother navigate the shoals of society could only nod in admiration. And he certainly looked the soul of politeness now.
