A Wedding Wager (28 page)

And there was no denying that she felt a deal more comfortable in Mr. Wedgwood’s company than in that of Mr. Sullivan. What would Lady Serena think? She always had something sensible to say, even to questions that Abigail had been afraid were silly. Lady Serena had never given the least sign that she also thought them silly. Abigail resolved to ask Serena. She would have to evade her mother, though.

She plucked a string a little too vigorously, and the twang was quite painful. She looked anxiously at her mother. But Marianne was nodding quietly on the sofa in a postprandial doze.

Sebastian watched the chair bearing Serena out of sight around the corner of the Strand and debated his next move. He was restless, anxious to be doing something. The situation would not resolve itself, and if Serena was adamant that she would not leave her stepfather until Abigail was safely away from the web of his spinning, then he had best do something to make that happen. It was time to pay a visit to Mr. Wedgwood.

He found Jonas sitting over a pile of papers in a
private parlor at the Queen’s Head. The young man jumped up when Sebastian entered, sending his chair skittering across the wooden floor.

“Mr. Sullivan … an honor, sir.” Jonas bowed, clearly flustered by this unexpected visit. “Won’t you sit down … will you take a glass of wine … please …” He gestured to a chair by the fire. “I think that’s the most comfortable.”

“Thank you. A glass of wine would be most welcome.” Sebastian took the assigned seat, crossed his legs at the ankle, and smiled warmly at his host. “I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion. I was passing and thought I’d see if you were at home.”

“Well, as you see, sir, I am. And more than happy to have a visitor. It gets deuced dull of an evening with nothing to occupy one,” Jonas confided, bringing a glass of claret to Sebastian. “I trust you’ll approve of this … ’tis a particular favorite of my uncle’s. He is supplied by Randall and Cox, so I ordered a case for myself while I’m here.”

Sebastian held his glass to the light, solemnly took the scent, and took a judicious sip before pronouncing, “Very fine, indeed.” He regarded the younger man with a quizzical smile. “I must say I’m surprised to find you have nothing to do in town, Mr. Wedgwood. Most young men find they have no time to sleep with all the dissipations and temptations on offer, particularly on their first visit.”

Jonas shook his head. “To tell the truth, sir, I have no idea where to go of an evening if I have not an invitation from one of my uncle’s business associates. My family has no memberships in any of the gentlemen’s clubs, and …” He blushed a little. “I find I have not the inclination to look for female companionship in …” His blush deepened. “In the places where such can be found.”

“Well, that is probably fortunate,” Sebastian said cheerfully. “If you go out trawling the streets of Covent Garden, you’ll find plenty of female companionship, but there’s no knowing what else you’ll come back with unless you know exactly where to go.” He sipped his wine. “And the very best houses usually require an introduction. I could provide you with one, should you wish it.”

Jonas shook his head with vigor. “Oh, no … no, indeed not … I thank you, but I don’t think … that’s to say, I haven’t been in the habit … where I come from, ’tis not … I mean, customs are very different.”

“That I can believe. Well, if you change your mind, you have only to apply to me.” It occurred somewhat belatedly to Sebastian that encouraging Abigail’s suitor to frequent the brothels of Covent Garden was probably not the best way to fulfill Serena’s instructions. He cleared his throat and sought a change of subject. “You seem fully occupied at present,” he observed, gesturing to the paper-covered table.

“Oh, just business affairs,” Jonas said with a touch of gloom. “There is always that to occupy me.”

Sebastian saw a way into the subject that had brought him hither. “Your family is a prominent one in the Potteries, I understand.”

“Oh, yes, very much so. My grandfather had a successful pottery, and his sons took over the business. My father died two years ago, and Uncle Josiah recently started his own pottery. I work for him.”

“Not as a potter?”

“No … no, I have no talent for design. But I have a good head for figures, and I find myself able to gain commissions for my uncle’s designs.” Jonas looked a little embarrassed. “That is not to say that I have any special talents or such, but I seem to find it easy to persuade people of the beauty of my uncle’s designs and their execution.”

“I suspect you have a great deal of special talent,” Sebastian declared, deciding there was much to like about this modest young man. “I daresay your family is well acquainted, then, with the Sutton family … both so prominent in your neighborhood.”

“Well, yes, at least, my uncles and Mr. Sutton are acquainted in the matter of civic duties and such. Mr. Sutton is a merchant, with no direct connections to the manufacture of pottery, but like my uncles, he is active in the affairs of the city of Stoke-on-Trent and the neighboring towns.”

Sebastian nodded and said lightly with a teasing smile, “So I daresay you and Miss Sutton played together as children.”

Jonas blushed anew. “Well … no … that is to say, I had seen her shopping, and once at a local Assembly ball put on at Christmas for the children of prominent citizens, I attempted to dance with her, but I trod on her flounce, and she burst into tears and ran to her mother.” He laughed. “I was left on the dance floor, scarlet with embarrassment, and I don’t think I’ve danced again since that day.”

Sebastian chuckled. “That would put off the strongest man. Does she remember?”

Jonas shook his head. “I don’t know, to tell you the truth. But I doubt it. I was an insignificant, gawky, clumsy boy. If I can summon the courage, one of these days, I will ask her if she remembers.”

Sebastian twirled the stem of his glass between his fingers. “So, when did you renew this early acquaintance?”

“On the packet from Calais.” Jonas jumped up to fetch the wine bottle. “Poor Miss Sutton was feeling very unwell and was obliged to sit up on deck. Her mama was prostrate in her cabin, and so was their maid. Only Mr. Sutton seemed unaffected by the swell, and he was playing whist in the salon. I offered Abi … Miss Sutton, that is … my boat cloak and kept her company on deck during the night.” His smile was soft. “I think she was grateful. Anyway, she gave me her direction in London, and I promised to leave my card.”

“As you were doing when you and I met,” Sebastian concluded. “Mrs. Sutton seems anxious that her
daughter should make her debut in London Society.” He watched Jonas covertly over the rim of his glass.

“Yes, she does,” Jonas agreed, and Sebastian was both pleased and interested to see the young man’s expression harden and to hear a clipped note in his voice.

“A worthy ambition, don’t you think?” Sebastian said, still watching his host’s expression.

Jonas looked disgusted. “A ridiculous one, if you ask me. Abigail is a daughter of the Potteries. She’s lovely, she’s talented, she’s adorable, but London Society will eat her alive.” His voice throbbed with anger, and Sebastian noticed that he had completely lost his earlier self-effacing manner. “She’s still a child. How could she hold her own with the old cats looking down their noses at her, whispering behind their hands because her manners are somewhat countrified?”

Sebastian was amused but also impressed by Jonas’s protective attitude towards Abigail. It boded well. “You’ve come across these ladies yourself?”

Jonas shook his head. “No, thank heavens. I’ve more sense than to seek ’em out. But I can imagine ’em.”

“You probably have the right of it,” Sebastian agreed, glancing at the clock on the mantel. “If you’ve nothing better to do for the evening, Jonas, why don’t you come with me? I’m engaged to dine with a few friends at the Swan tavern, nothing special, and we’d all be delighted if you’d join us.”

Jonas looked doubtful. “You can speak for your friends?”

“Oh, devil a bit, of course I can.” Sebastian shrugged off the question and got to his feet. “Come, I promise you a congenial evening, and furthermore, if there’s any possibility of visiting a Covent Garden nunnery, I promise I will give you plenty of warning and you may take your leave of us beforehand … or not, as the case may be.”

Jonas looked as if he was unsure whether Sebastian was in jest, but when he saw the other man’s broad grin, he decided he probably was. “I should like it of all things,” he said, a touch shyly. “I hope I won’t be a bore.”

“Nonsense. Fetch your hat and cloak.”

Serena would be pleased with his evening’s work, Sebastian reflected as he accompanied Jonas Wedgwood to the Swan, introduced him around, and then watched as he quickly found his feet. He would make young Abigail an excellent husband, Sebastian concluded. The difficulty was the mother. But that was Serena’s problem, he decided. He would bring the young man up to scratch. Serena would have to take care of the rest.

Serena bathed at luxurious leisure. The general had sent no reply to her message, and she decided he had obviously seen the wisdom of leaving her alone for the time being. Bridget washed her hair, rinsing it in orange
flower water, and afterwards helped her into a velvet dressing gown. Flanagan had brought up roast capon with a lemon and tarragon sauce, a dish of buttered artichokes, and a Rhenish cream. She sipped burgundy and ate slowly, savoring every mouthful, surprised that after the roast duckling that afternoon, she could still find an appetite. Lovemaking was an energetic sport, she thought with an involuntary smile, curling her bare toes against the fender as she stretched her feet to the andirons.

But fighting afterwards was the very devil. Serena was suddenly no longer relaxed or languid and sat up in a surge of bathwater. She could understand Sebastian’s frustrations, but why did he have such difficulty grasping the complexities of her situation? Surely, if he loved her as he said he did, then he would find it easy to understand her. But perhaps he didn’t love her as deeply as he thought. Why else would he have questioned her so harshly about Burford? Maybe he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of loving a member of the demimonde, one of faro’s daughters who could cheat at the tables with the best of them. Maybe he was thinking it was absurd to trust such a woman. And she could hardly blame him. Hadn’t she, just for a second, considered accepting Burford’s proposal? Just acknowledging that fact made her feel soiled, unworthy in some way.

But she wasn’t either of those things. Serena knew her own integrity. Knew who she was, what she had to
accept, and what she was able to change. It had been a long and painful road to realize those facts. Was Sebastian able to acknowledge her truly for the person she was, the person circumstances had made her? Could he see beneath the public façade to the eager, passionate, young lover she had been three years ago? And still was.

To do that, he would have to enter her world, acknowledge its realities, and reconcile the Serena imprisoned in this debased existence with the young love of before. Their liaison had always been conducted in neutral chambers, in buildings far from the debauched, polluted world created by Sir George Heyward, but if Sebastian could see that the purity of their feeling, indeed, of their passion, was in no way compromised by her environment, then the muddle of his uncertainty, the untrusting uncertainty he had made so clear that afternoon, would surely resolve itself. She rang the bell for Bridget.

“Can I get you summat, m’lady?” Bridget had been in the middle of her own supper in the kitchen and was still finishing a mouthful.

“Oh, I interrupted your supper, I’m sorry.” Serena was instantly remorseful. She should have known that most evenings, Bridget would be free at this time because her mistress would be dining with Sir George.

“That’s all right, ma’am. We was almost finished.”

“Do you think that a little later, you could arrange to have a message sent for me?”

“Don’t see why not, ma’am. Where to?”

“Stratton Street.” Sebastian was about to get the surprise of his life. “’Tis not very far.”

“Oh, young Timmy could take it, ma’am. Before he does the boots.”