Johanna Lindsey (24 page)

Douglas shrugged. “Had to. And no, not for the first reason that might come to mind. She was the prime catch of the season, and I fell in love with her the same day I clapped eyes on her. But her being the prime catch, there were also more’n a half dozen other young bucks trying to win her hand. It was a bloody nerve-racking time, waiting for her to decide who the lucky chap would be.” Sebastian smiled. Like Denton, he’d put his mother on a pedestal; she’d died when they were so young. They had their memories of her. She was the angel, the Madonna, all that was good and gracious.

It was rather a surprise to learn she’d been a typical female of her day, wanting to squeeze out every bit of enjoyment from being so popular. It made her seem more real to him—and made him miss her all the more. And he guessed he had his answer now to why his father had never remarried. The look that had come over him when he mentioned his wife said it all. He still loved her, too much to consider letting another woman take her place.

“I’ll let you rest for now,” Sebastian said. “Don’t want to tire you out while you’re still recovering.

I’ll return later to finish discussing your accidents.”

“I told you—”

“And I didn’t buy it,” Sebastian cut in, to his father’s chagrin. “So give some thought to the truth when we meet again.”

He crossed to the door. He expected a few more rebuttals before he reached it, but Douglas remained silent, which was odd. Or perhaps their conversation had exhausted him more than he let on.

Sebastian opened the door and said without turning back, “Thank you for revealing what you did about my mother. I wasn’t expecting that—all things considered.”
Chapter 33

A
BIGAIL MET TIMOTHY THAT AFTERNOON for the first time, and not surprisingly, since the boy had such a quirky sense of humor, the old girl took to him as if he were a member of the family. “We’ll keep him,” she told Margaret in a decisive manner.

Margaret didn’t have the heart to tell her she couldn’t just keep him. But Timothy, that cheeky scamp, thought it was hilarious, and he was pleased to keep Abigail company, entertaining her with tales of France. She had a feeling he’d never experienced a grandmother before.

Margaret didn’t stay long to listen to them. She was too anxious to be good company herself, was a bundle of nerves, actually, waiting to hear what had transpired in Douglas’s room. To that end, she lingered at the top of the stairs, arranging and rearranging the vase of flowers on the table nearby. She didn’t want to miss Sebastian when he left his father.

He abruptly came out of the room. The menacing expression on his face, one The Raven often sported, gave her no clue. He’d been in there an awfully long time, but that might not indicate anything significant. For all she knew, Douglas could have been sleeping most of that time…

As soon as he spotted her, he walked over to her and said, “Let’s go for a ride,” then grasped her hand and started down the stairs, pulling her along with him.

“Let’s not,” she said to his back, wanting an immediate answer to the question that had her on tenterhooks.

He didn’t take the hint and merely said, “Our horses need the exercise, whether we do or not,” and continued to drag her out of the house.

She gave up at that point and just tried to keep up with him, since he wasn’t letting go of her hand.

Dragging her across the lawn wasn’t very civilized, but come to think of it, no one could accuse Sebastian of being civilized, so it was pointless to mention it.

In the stable the grooms all quickly made themselves scarce, something Sebastian was undoubtedly used to, since he began saddling his horse without calling for assistance. One groom did show up, however, and almost belligerently asked Margaret if she needed anything. The Frenchman. His accent was so slight she might not have noticed it if she hadn’t recently been in France. But before she could answer, she got a better look at him in the dim light and gasped.

“Goodness. You look like you fell asleep in one of the stalls and woke up with the horse standing on you,” she said with some natural concern. His face was severely swollen and bruised.

“It was exactly that, mademoiselle. Thank you for noticing.” His sarcastic tone suggested there was no truth in his reply, but beyond that, she didn’t care for his attitude at all. So she was relieved, as well as embarrassed, when Sebastian came up behind her.

“Go away,” he told the fellow coldly. “I’ll see to the lady’s needs.” The fellow looked at Sebastian with such loathing that Margaret was sure he was going to make some inappropriate remark about the “lady’s needs,” which was why she found herself blushing. But once the groom glanced at her, he must have changed his mind. She could get him fired, after all. So he merely shrugged and ambled off.

“So rude,” she mumbled to herself.

“To be expected,” Sebastian replied and moved along the remaining stalls to find her mare.

She followed him, then waited while he went to fetch her a sidesaddle. When he returned and began strapping the saddle on Sweet Tooth, she finally noticed his swollen knuckles.

“You did that to the Frenchman?” she guessed.

He shrugged. “He threw the first punch. I merely enjoyed what followed.” She humphed. “Learn anything from him?”

“Nothing a’tall,” he replied. “Though I suspect he sent word to Juliette in London, which brought her back so quickly. It was a splendid fight, though.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not surprised you’d think so. The winner does usually have that opinion.

Er, that is, you did win, correct?”

He actually chuckled. “Does it look like I lost?”

She was surprised by his moment of humor, about as rare as a hailstorm in summer. Come and gone though so quickly, she could have imagined it.

It didn’t take him long to finish with the horses, and a quick toss landed her in the saddle. A bit too quick, as if he was loath to touch her, but since that couldn’t possibly be the case, she didn’t dwell on it.

A few moments later, he was galloping out of the stable. She had no trouble keeping up until she suspected where he was going and then she slowed her pace deliberately, almost halted and turned about. She couldn’t imagine why he’d want to go there, of all places.

She’d been there once before, as a child. She and Florence had thought it a lark. She didn’t doubt every child in the neighborhood had thought the same at one time or another and went there at least once.

Morbid curiosity. Adults weren’t the only ones who had it.

Her own curiosity decided the matter and brought her through the trees to the renowned clearing.

No grass or even weeds ever grew in the narrow twenty-foot stretch. Trees, bushes, and other thick foliage grew all around it, blocking it from the wood path that passed nearby. Grass even grew up to a point, then stopped, outlining the strip of dirt. It wasn’t because it got trampled so much. It was rare a duel got fought there now. It was more like all the blood spilled there over the years had blighted the area. A morbid thought to go with her morbid curiosity.

Sebastian had dismounted, was standing in the middle of that strip of dirt. He wore the expression of a man in pain. What was amazing was that she could see it clearly. He wasn’t trying to hide it, or if he was, he was experiencing too much pain to manage it.

She felt torn herself. She had the strongest urge to go to him and put her arms around him, to offer what comfort she could. There was no feeling of satisfaction, or thought that he deserved this pain. From the moment she’d believed him, that Giles’s death had been an accident, she’d stopped blaming him for Eleanor’s death. He was still responsible for dividing a family she was very fond of, but that was between him and his father, and had nothing to do with her sister.

She realized that she really had no reason to hate Sebastian anymore, though that didn’t mean she liked him. Well, actually, she must like him a little or she wouldn’t have let her attraction to him rule the order of the day, or night, as it were. But she didn’t like The Raven. No getting around that. The Raven was too abrasive, high-handed, cold, and downright intimidating at times.

She wouldn’t be having these thoughts if she didn’t know there was another side to Sebastian, the side he rarely revealed, the side she might like too much if she wasn’t careful. Fortunately, since the man had absolutely no intention of remaining in England after his job was done, she didn’t need to worry about that.

She shouldn’t ask, but she did anyway, “Why did you come here?”

“I’m getting soft.”

She was taken aback by his odd answer. “Is that such a bad thing?” He didn’t answer, or look at her, leading her to conclude that in his mind it was. Were the memories he had of this place supposed to keep him cold and uncaring? Bitter was more like it, and that wasn’t a good emotion.

“I don’t suppose you reconciled with your father?” she finally asked.

“There will be no reconciliation.”

That clipped response annoyed her, enough to demand, “Who did he get to see after all these years? His son? Or The Raven?”

He finally glanced at her. “I don’t know why you’re determined to separate the two. There is just one me, molded by the life I’ve made for myself.”

“Rubbish. Tell that to your grandmother when you laugh with her. She gets to see the man you used to be, the one you came here to trample back into the dust.”

“He’s an illusion,” he replied. “Speaking of which, I’d as soon my father not know about our temporary ‘marriage.’”

Now that surprised a frown from her. “But that was the whole point of it.”

“We’re beyond that point. I’m in the door and, for the moment, not being asked to leave.” She tsked at him and pointed out, “Everything for you has to be steeped in intrigue, when the plain and simple truth still works wonders.”

“Not all the time it doesn’t, and when it doesn’t, you’re left with dead ends. Intrigue, as you put it, gives you more options. And I’d prefer the option of not being around when he finds out about it.”

“Why?”

“Because I find that I can’t lie to him. I thought I could, but I can’t.” She blinked. “So you’ll tell him that we aren’t really married?” She bit her lip. “Well, I don’t suppose it needs to go any farther than him. I’m sure he’ll understand once he knows why we perpetrated the farce.”

He shook his head at her, warned, “You’d then have to explain to him all the reasons why you hate me and won’t have me, because mark my words, he’ll insist we put ‘truth’ to the word ‘married.’”

“Nonsense.”

“You don’t think so? Even if he didn’t have the moral fiber that would insist on that solution, consider this. He wants you in the family, Maggie. It would be the perfect excuse to see it happen.” She was overcome with a myriad of emotions, and appallingly, one of them was a burst of excitement at the thought of having to marry Sebastian for real. She must be insane! All the intrigue, which was so against her nature, was getting to her. No other excuse for it.

“How do you hope to prevent him from hearing that we married, then? He’s not going to remain in his room much longer. Someone’s bound to mention it.”

“Not necessarily. Abigail and Denton won’t. I’ve spoken to them, as well as the servants. And according to my grandmother, Juliette rarely talks to him either. So that leaves you.” She made a moue, then said stiffly, “I’m not going to instigate this forced marriage you are predicting, I assure you. I don’t agree it would come to that, but it certainly won’t be on my head. Now, must we discuss this here of all places? Or did you want to talk about the duel?”

“No.”

“Then why—?”

“Maggie, you talk too much.”

She gritted her teeth in exasperation. “We could have had this discussion somewhere not so morbid. Why here?”

“Because it was the only place I could think of where I wouldn’t be tempted to toss up your skirt in the grass.”

M
ARGARET COULDN’T SPEAK FOR A MOMENT. An image came into her mind, lying on soft grass, Sebastian beside her, leaning over her, tenderness in his eyes just before he…

The image shattered abruptly. She’d never seen tenderness in his eyes, at least not when he looked at her. At Abigail, yes, she’d seen it once, enough to know he was capable of tenderness. He wouldn’t have feigned that emotion, not for his grandmother, anyway.

She turned her back to him and told him quite primly, “I must insist that you refrain from saying things like that, Sebastian.”

“You can insist all you like.”

She gritted her teeth. “But it won’t do a bloody bit of good?”

“I always knew you were a smart girl.”

She drew in her breath sharply. Was the man actually teasing her? She glanced over her shoulder at him, but his expression hadn’t changed. The morbid setting was still governing that.

“We could have had this conversation at Edgewood,” she pointed out stiffly.

“At this time of day? There was no place with guaranteed privacy—other than your room. Are you inviting me back into your room, Maggie?”

That question, asked in a lower timbre, held much more meaning than she cared to address. It also warned her that he wasn’t going to honor her request to keep his hands off her.

Why had she expected him to come to his senses and realize how great a risk they’d taken last night? He was a man who took risks, after all. They were part of his life. Apparently, getting himself trapped in a real marriage was a risk he was willing to take.

“You will need to spend your remaining nights at Edgewood sleeping somewhere other than my room,” she said pointedly.

“Not a chance.”

She sighed loudly in frustration. “Then we’ll need to come up with a reason why you’re going to request your own room. A spat will do nicely, one that we don’t wish to discuss.”