by Diana Quincy
His Grace’s hands fisted under his chin, his elbows resting on the armrests. “I have no argument with your oversight of the duchy. It pleases me to know I didn’t misjudge your character and abilities. You’ve proven yourself adept.” His voice rose in exasperation. “Except for one. Will you bed your wife? That is your duty above all else. Or is it that you do not like women? All these years and I have never heard of you keeping a ladybird or visiting the bawd houses.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Indulge whatever tastes you have. It is of no matter to me, but you must consummate the marriage. It is imperative you beget an heir.”
“My tastes are none of your concern, but I assure you they are quite mundane.”
“Then get your nose out of the estate books and your person out of the boxing and fencing clubs. Get on with the business of claiming what is yours.”
“My attention to estate matters is precisely why the Traherne accounts are robust once again.” Eager to be out of the duke’s presence, he rose, impatient to unleash the growing pent-up energy inside of him. “Speaking of Gentleman Jack’s, I do have an appointment. Please excuse me.”
“I am warning you. Go to your wife and make her yours. She is headstrong, more so than you, if that is possible. You must bring her to heel.”
He bowed, cheered now that freedom was close at hand. “I shall take your comments under advisement. About the investments?”
“God’s teeth, but you are stubborn.” Traherne glanced at the papers. “If you think it is sound, then it is.” He scratched his signature across the agreements and threw sand on them to set the ink. The duke handed the papers over. “Bella needs a strong hand to cope with her rebellious and obstinate nature.”
Taking the documents, Sebastian headed for the door, welcoming the cool burst of relief at having brought today’s business with the duke to a rapid conclusion. “I bid you good day.”
He was surprised to hear Traherne chuckle behind him. “One thing is certain. Once the two of you come together, even the devil himself will be running for cover.”
The duke’s words echoed in Sebastian’s head as he set off in the direction of Gentleman Jack’s. There was no putting off the inevitable. For six long years, he’d born the guilt of what they’d done to Mirabella. He was a grown man who’d never truly been free to do as he pleased, the same as when he was a boy. Yet Traherne had the right of it. He must summon Mirabella home.
His friend, Lucius Penrose, fourth son of the Earl of Allston, was standing by the entrance when he arrived at the boxing club.
“How was your audience with His Grace?” he asked as they made their way inside for their boxing lesson. The two friends came three times a week and Sebastian never missed a workout. He reveled in the physical challenge and exertion.
They entered the changing room, where humidity and the pungent scent of male exertion hung in the air. “His usual pleasantness, I am afraid.”
“What did he want?”
He pulled off his shirt and folded it with care. “He wants what he always wants.”
Shaking his head, Pen chuckled. “When will he realize you do no one’s bidding but your own?”
They headed out to the boxing floor. Gentleman John Jackson himself was on the crowded floor instructing a young buck. As always, the champion wore the vibrant colors he favored, which today included an orange-striped tailcoat.
A familiar surge of anticipation shot through Sebastian’s veins, his muscles poised and anxious for the fight ahead. “I suppose Traherne still sees me as the young pup who married his daughter. Unfortunately, he is right in this. I cannot put off the inevitable any longer.”
“So the mystery bride finally appears?” Taking a seat on the hanging scale, Pen regarded the measurement with evident satisfaction. “I haven’t gained an ounce.” He studied Sebastian’s face. “She’s just your wife, Stan. Get a babe on her and then get on with your life. The world is full of highfliers for the taking.”
He wrapped a protective muffler around his fist. “It’s not my way, Pen, as you well know.”
“How could I forget?” Pen held out a fist for Sebastian to wrap. “It’s unnatural to go without a woman for as long as you have. I hold out hope the saint will one day allow the true Sebastian to emerge.”
He exhaled through his nostrils. “What utter nonsense you speak. Do favor me with a change of topic?”
“Very well. Are we attending the opera this evening? Adelaide says you promised her. After all, you do have the best box in the house, next to Prinny.”
“You mean to say Traherne has the best box in the house. But yes, I’ve made arrangements for its use this evening.” He slammed his wrapped fists together, testing his mufflers. “If Adelaide wants it, she shall have it. You know I cannot deny your sister anything.”
Chapter Two
“Discover anything that’ll send Sebastian to Newgate?” Popping his head through her sitting room door, Cary Orford eyed the papers and account books littering Mirabella’s escritoire.
“Not as of yet.” Sitting back in her chair, she released a frustrated breath, stirring a renegade spiral of auburn hair that had escaped the bun atop her head. “Traherne’s accounts are quite complicated. Finding irregularities is no easy task.”
“I did a bit of investigation on my own, as you requested.” He shut the door, wandering into the powder-blue sitting room originally designed for the mistress of the house. But years ago, during finishing school breaks, Bella had taken the comfortable space as her own. There was no one to object; her mother, the duchess, was long dead and, although the property wasn’t far from Town, the duke never ventured to Strawberry Hill.
She gave Orford her full attention. “What have you learned?”
“I haven’t actually laid eyes on the man yet, but from what I can gather, Sebastian runs everything.” Ambling over to the blue, felt-covered card table with a chess set perched atop it, he ran his fingers over the carved wooden pieces. “Your husband oversees all of the estate business.”
“Please don’t call him that,” she said.
“Very well.” He shot her a bemused look. “Even though that is exactly what he is.”
“In name only.”
“Yes, wedded but not bedded.” He ran an appreciative gaze over her petite, curvy frame. “Which I cannot begin to understand.”
“I comprehend perfectly,” she said tartly. “There’s no gold hidden on my person.”
“The man’s a fool not to see you for the treasure you are.” He regarded her with startling blue eyes that left women all over the continent breathless and swooning. But not Bella. They’d been friends far too long for that. “Tell me what you’ve learned.”
Walking over to the unlit marble hearth, he folded his lithe frame into a chair covered with a blue-and-bronze paisley fabric. “He controls the duchy, including all of the assets, and is quite wealthy as a result.”
“Our marriage has certainly served him well.”
“He didn’t have a farthing to his name before your marriage. The family was on the verge of destitution.”
“Dare I ask how flush in the pockets he is?”
“Stanhope’s personal fortune rivals that of the duke himself.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Good Lord.”
“Surely you’re not surprised he helps himself to a bit of extra fruit from the tree.”
“It sounds as if he’s made off with entire orchards. Where is His Grace in all of this?”
“Your father, the duke, retains official control. However, he doesn’t appear to trouble himself with business concerns.” Orford adjusted the cuffs of his snowy-white shirt. “He leaves that to Sebastian.”
“And while my father empties bottle after bottle of his beloved Russian vodka, Sebastian makes off with chunks of the family fortune.”
“Perhaps there’s another way he came by the blunt.”
“Not likely.” She stacked the ledgers to keep her hands busy. “From what I can discern, he re
ceives a fixed allowance from the duchy. It’s a healthy portion, but nowhere near enough to account for that kind of wealth.”
He gestured toward the account books and documents cluttering the desk. “What do you hope to accomplish with this?”
“I am my father’s heir. It’s time I began acting as such.”
“Meaning?”
“I can’t allow Sebastian to bankrupt the duchy. Everyone will expect a duchess in her own right to make a hash of things, but I vow Traherne will never fall to ruin under my watch.”
“I know that look. It means nothing will deter you.” He smiled as if enjoying a marvelous joke. “For the first time, I don’t envy Stanhope his place as your husband.”
“I cannot leave my children a debt-laden inheritance.”
“Ah yes, les enfants, who will also be the fruit of Sebastian’s loins.”
“I have no choice in that regard.” Although she preferred to avoid thinking about the intimacy required to breed, she was fully prepared to do her duty when the time came. It would be worth the sacrifice. Her chest constricted at the thought of having a baby to love. The lively laughter of children would be most welcome after the solemn quietude of her childhood.
“Saving Traherne from Sebastian is a laudable goal. However, once the duke passes, your husband will control everything, even more so than he does at present.”
“Stop calling him that.”
“What do you plan to call him?” he said. “He is the man you married. It’s only a matter of time now before you submit to him.”
“I submit to no one.” But Orford was right, of course. She would see Sebastian soon. Not that she’d recognize the man she’d been forced to marry. All she recalled from that long-ago afternoon was a dark, masculine presence with a grim countenance. Yet his eyes had been kind. She remembered that much about him.
Clearly, she’d been wrong. The scapegrace abandoned her the minute he got his hands on her fortune. He’d had even less use for her than her father. The sharp edge of sorrow comingled with fury razored through her. It was a familiar sensation, one thoughts of him always evoked. So she stored it away and harnessed it for the day they would meet again. Only this time she wouldn’t be a helpless child. Sebastian Stanhope would learn how unwise he’d been to treat his wife with complete disregard.
The future Duchess of Traherne had plans for her husband.
…
“Oh, look! There is Baron Beresford’s daughter. They say she is this season’s incomparable,” exclaimed Adelaide Penrose, looking around from her excellent vantage point in the Duke of Traherne’s box.
Sebastian gave her a slight smile. “I myself think you are the season’s incomparable, Lady Adelaide. What do you think, Pen?”
Pen took his seat, already looking bored. “Hmm? Yes, of course Adelaide is the loveliest girl in the room.”
Adelaide’s bright blue eyes sparkled. “Thank you for bringing us, Sebastian.”
He took his seat, hardly in the mood for the opera, but he resigned himself to it this evening due to his fondness for Adelaide. He’d known her since girlhood from the many times he’d visited on school breaks with her older brother. Anything to avoid going home to his own family. Now eighteen, Adelaide relished all of the firsts that came with her come-out Season. She had taken well so far, thanks to her sweet, sunny nature and petite, blond good looks.
He looked around absentmindedly while Adelaide continued chattering with her brother. His eyes moved over the tiered boxes. People in evening dress milled about waiting for the performance to begin. A movement in one of the boxes across the way caught his attention.
A woman in white muslin stood with her back to him, her gown cascaded down over soft curves in expensive simplicity, its short sleeves trimmed in lace. She wore long, white evening gloves and a snowy fur tippet sloped neatly over her shoulders. The woman’s auburn curls were pulled up, but ringlets cascaded down the back of her smooth, pale bare neck. The hair on the back of his neck tingled. Intrigued in a distant way, he kept his gaze on the woman, waiting for her to turn around for a glimpse of her face.
When the woman turned to take her seat, his heart spasmed as though it parsed something of critical importance. She had a wide, elegant face punctuated by prominent, but gently sloping, cheek bones, and a straight aristocratic nose. He brought his opera glasses to his eyes for a clearer view. At the same time, her large, almond-shaped eyes turned in his direction and locked with his. Darkness swallowed her. Startled by a profound feeling of loss, he pulled the opera glasses away from his face only to realize the lights had dimmed because the performance was beginning.
“It’s starting.” Adelaide scooted up to the edge of her seat angling for a better view of the stage. Sebastian turned toward the stage but in his mind’s eye could still only see the marvel in the box across the way. Who was she? He had never seen her at any other functions even though the season was well under way. Chagrined, he suddenly remembered something he never forgot. His wife.
He struggled to bring his thoughts under control. It did not matter who the beauty was, he harshly reminded himself, because she could never be anything to him. Still, as the sounds of the opera crashed around him, his wayward thoughts drifted back to that astounding face. The image of those large, dark eyes widening in surprise floated in his mind.
At intermission, Adelaide turned to him with glistening eyes. “This is marvelous.” Wonder filled her voice. “I cannot wait to see the rest of it.”
He smiled, but barely saw or heard her. Pushing to his feet, he excused himself, only vaguely aware of Pen’s faint look of surprise when he left the box. Forcing himself to breathe evenly, he walked at a swift gait, acknowledging the people who greeted him without stopping. Rounding a corner, he collided with a wall of soft curves and the subtle scent of jasmine. His hand shot out in a reflexive gesture to right the woman.
It was her.
Recognition flickered in her eyes, the color of toasted almonds, an intriguing soft brown dappled with flecks of gold. Up close, the unique details of her face, including the imperfections, made her even more mesmerizing. She had the faintest white line of a small scar high on her left cheek that he longed to softly trace with his finger.
“I do beg your pardon,” he finally said, belatedly remembering to remove the hand he’d instinctively put on her shoulder to keep her from falling. She no longer wore the fur tippet and part of his gloved hand touched the bare skin where her neck and shoulder met. The feel of her supple warmth sizzled through the thin cloth of his glove.
“Do you?” she asked, drawing his attention to an impossibly sumptuous mouth, with a top lip as full and plump as her lower one.
“Yes. Well. Quite.” He winced at the inane words. What the devil had come over him? He couldn’t begin to remember the last time he’d lost his tongue over a woman.
Blinking, she smiled, and it completely transformed her, throwing him off balance again. That unapproachably beautiful face appeared open, expressive, and even more devastating in its loveliness.
Clearing his throat, he tried again. “I should have watched where I was going. Please excuse my clumsiness.”
“Not at all.” Those watchful almond eyes fixed on his. “I, too, was distracted.”
He dared not ask what distracted her. Becoming aware that they were in the middle of the walkway, he moved aside and felt grateful when she mirrored the movement. A glance down at her hand provoked an irrational inward throb of jealousy. An apparent wedding ring encircled her gloved finger.
“Is your husband accompanying you?”
“No, I am alone…with friends of course.” Her voice took on a hard edge. “But no, my husband is not with me.”
Could she possibly have a neglectful husband? What a clod pole. If this extraordinary creature were his, he’d never let her out of his sight.
“My lady?” someone called out, causing her to turn around. “The performance is about to resume.”
“Oh, Orford,
” she said easily to a man who stepped out from behind the curtain of a nearby box. Handsome, with a bored glint in his striking blue eyes, he stood tall, several inches above Sebastian, and moved with the lanky elegance bred among the highborn set. His inquiring look cooled when it found and clashed with Sebastian’s, a sliver of something rivalrous touching his gaze.
The man offered a tight, dismissive smile before taking hold of the woman’s arm in a familiar manner, which filled Sebastian with a senseless urge to pummel him.
“Yes, of course, I am coming.” Flashing a quick glance at him, she disappeared back into her box with the man.
…
She invaded his dreams that evening.
He awoke with a start, sweating and disconcerted, his body on edge. Sitting up, he pressed his palms against his eyes, frustrated by his lack of control over his dreams. These were the times when the unbidden reminder of how long he’d been without a woman intruded upon the careful order of his life. He stilled for a moment, allowing the feeling to wash over him, to accept how much he missed the touch of a woman.
Forcing the thoughts aside, he glanced toward the window where darkness still clawed the sky. He rose and sluiced cold water on his face from a basin his valet set out each evening without fail. Toweling off, he contemplated waking a groom to saddle his mount. He rode almost every day, long and arduous outings during which he exerted himself to extreme endurance. Perhaps he’d let the groom sleep and just slip out for a brisk walk.
He dressed swiftly, pulling on the shoes he’d had specially made for mornings like this. Slipping out of his spartanly decorated bachelor’s apartments, he headed for the street at a brisk pace, his steps accelerating into a slow jog.
At least it was before dawn, when few were awake to witness what would be perceived as foolishness. But it calmed Sebastian, helping him keep tight control over certain elemental urges he wished to ignore. He relished the strong, steady movements of his powerful legs and the rhythmic sounds of his breathing, all the while looking forward to the rush of exhilaration he would soon feel from his exertions.
