Perfect Bride (4 page)
“We’ve got to find out where she’s bleeding.” He ripped off the silly bonnet she wore. A cascade of golden waves tumbled over the pillow across his fingers.
He flicked the tresses aside and leaned over her. His patrician nose wrinkled in distaste as he fum
bled with the sodden, knotted ties of her cloak. Dingy with age, it was the same muddy color as the Thames. “Christ, what is that stench?” He sniffed. “She smells of fish and smoke—”
“Mmm,” Justin agreed. “And stale ale and grease. A noxious blend, isn’t it?”
Sebastian cursed at the clumsiness of his big fin
gers. At last the ties came undone, and he eased the cloak from beneath her, thrusting it to the floor.
“Be careful,” Justin warned. “She’s rather ...she appears to be in a delicate condition.”
“Yes.” Sebastian’s gaze roamed quickly over her. She must surely be almost ready to deliver, given the enormous size of her belly, especially considering the narrow frame of her shoulders. He frowned. Yet there was something rather peculiar about her shape...Now that her cloak was off, it struck him that her belly looked almost...
Lumpy.
Suspicion took root. A prod from a finger revealed her belly to be as soft as it looked. His lips compressed. His hands delved beneath her ragged scrap of gown.
Justin stood just behind his shoulder, watching as a slow curl of twine dropped from his fingers to the sodden cloak now pooled on the elegantly patterned Aubusson carpet. A pillow followed in short order.
“Good heavens.” Justin sounded utterly shocked. “She’s not—”
“Apparently not.”
There was a long, drawn-out pause before he heard Justin’s voice. “Why the deuce would a woman pretend to be with child?”
Sebastian made a sound of disgust. “It’s a ruse. My guess is that the twine and the pillow are used to conceal her stash.”
“Her stash,” Justin repeated.
“She’s a thief, Justin.”
“But she has nothing concealed!”
“Doesn’t she?” He spied something in one of her hands, clenched beneath her chin.
He tried to loosen her grip.
Her fingers tightened. “Mine,” she muttered. “Mine!”
Tugging, he freed a chain clamped tight in her palm. He spared it no glance, but dumped it into his pocket with an oath. “My God,” he muttered, “I’ve brought home a thief!”
“Oh, come,” Justin protested. “You could hardly leave her lying in the streets. She might have been trampled. If it’s any consolation, I’d have done the same thing myself.”
“What, you’ve sprouted a conscience now?”
“Who knows? Perhaps I’ll even follow in your path and lead a life of utter respectability—though I cannot imagine anything more boring!”
Those acquainted with the pair were aware such banter was commonplace. As they spoke, Sebastian was busy peeling away the rest of her gown.
As it joined the growing pile on the carpet, Justin inhaled. “Look there. She hasn’t been shot, she’s been stabbed!”
Sebastian saw at the same instant. His gaze settled
on a jagged puncture that seared the flesh of her right side. If she was lucky, perhaps the blade had glanced off a rib. If so, the injury would not be mor tal, and the bleeding would stop soon.
Stokes had quietly deposited a tray of linens and water at the bedside. Sebastian grabbed a wad of linen and pushed her to her side, one hand on her shoulder. Before long, a telltale crimson began to seep through the pad. He swore and increased the pressure.
Beneath his hands, the girl twisted. Slim shoul
ders heaved and she cried out, a sound that re
sounded within his very bones...his very hands. Her head turned, and he saw her eyes were open; she stared directly into his face. They were pleading, those eyes. Alight with a glimmer of gold—most un
usual, he noted distantly—a glimmer of life. She was young, no more than twenty, he guessed.
His efforts paid off. It wasn’t long before the bleeding began to slow. With Justin’s assistance, he pressed a thick, clean pad over the wound, then wrapped several strips of linen over the dressing and around her body to secure it in place.
Only then did he allow himself to breathe. With a tail of cloth, he gently wiped the grime from her cheeks.
“She’s frightfully pale,” observed Justin.
“I know.” Sebastian had already taken note of her ashen color—and the rest of her as well. Her frame was delicate, her limbs petite and slender, much like their sister, Julianna. “Christ, I knew I should have taken her to a physician.” He spoke almost to himself.
“And where would you have found one this time of night?” Justin dropped a hand on his shoulder
and squeezed. “Besides, I’d trust you far more than I would any physician.” His tone lightened. “My brother the hero, tending the wounded on the battle field. I daresay you’ve far more experience with such things than many physicians.”
Sebastian neither agreed nor disagreed. He had been proud to serve his country in the fight against Napoleon, but upon his return to England from the Peninsula, he was only too glad to relegate his war memories to a far distant place where he need not think of them ever again. Certainly he had never dreamed his skills might be needed again—and in his own home yet!
Carefully he eased his patient to her back.
Complete and utter silence ensued. Perhaps both men were a little taken aback. Perhaps they’d been too engrossed in the commotion to truly take notice of her. But now both he and Justin stared as if spell
bound. Neither could help it. Neither could ignore it.
Leave it to Justin to speak the unspeakable. “Well, well, well,” he whispered. “Do you know that pale coral rose in the garden at Thurston Hall? Julianna adores it, remember? Sunrise, I believe it’s called . . .” Another second of silence. “Her nipples,” he finished softly, “are just like that rose.”
Sebastian yanked the sheet over her breasts. “Justin! For pity’s sake, she’s ill!”
“And I am not blind. Nor, I daresay, are you.”
He leveled an admonishing frown at Justin. “If possible, I should like to tend her without benefit of your lecherous insight.”
“Meaning you wish me to leave?”
“I do,” Sebastian said sternly. “But send Stokes
back in with more hot water. Soap, too. And have Tansy fetch one of Julianna’s night rails.”
“As you say, my lord. But since I’m being ban
ished, I should like to offer a word of advice.”
Sebastian glanced up inquiringly.
“Perhaps we should have Stokes stow away the valuables,” Justin stated mildly. “Indeed, perhaps we should lock our doors. We’ve a woman of the streets in the house, you know. She may well rob us blind and murder us in our beds by morning.”
Sebastian glowered. Justin merely laughed and closed the door.
Sebastian bent over his patient once more. Clearly Justin considered the situation quite humorous. Damn it all! He needed no reminders that he’d brought a thief into his home ...sweet Lord, his
home
!
He was still having trouble believing it himself.
our chimes from the walnut clock in the mar
bled foyer announced the hour as Sebastian made his way to the study; the sound was lost in the vastness of the domed ceiling. Justin’s presence was proclaimed by the pungent smell of smoke from a cheroot.
At Sebastian’s entrance, Justin turned. Quickly he abandoned his stance before the warmth of the fire. Crossing the room, he fetched a brandy from a delicate-legged side table.
By the time Justin handed it to him, Sebastian had sprawled in the chair behind his desk. The events of the evening had taken their toll.
“How is she?”
Sebastian took a long, burning draught of brandy and swallowed. “The wound is not so deep as I’d first thought.” He rubbed his fingers over the scratchiness of his jaw. He needed to shave, he
thought absently. “In time,” he said slowly, “I think she’ll be fine.”
“Excellent.” Justin had ambled to the chair across from him. “I must confess, I’m mightily curious as to what you were doing in St. Giles. It’s certainly the last place on earth I should have expected to find
you
.”
“Spare me the sarcasm, Justin. When I left for the Farthingale ball, Stokes told me you planned to spend the evening gaming. When I left the Farthin
gales’, I stopped by White’s thinking to find you there. It was Gideon who disclosed he’d left you at a club in St. Giles.” Sebastian made no secret of his disapproval.
Justin’s eyes glinted. “And so you decided to come to my rescue?”
“Something like that.”
“I’m a grown man, Sebastian. I don’t believe I need to apprise you of my every activity.”
“St. Giles is a dangerous place,” Sebastian said sharply. “Surely you know that.”
“I do. But as you can see, I’m none the worse for it, save for some wretchedly bad wine and a good deal more bad luck.”
God knew Justin had ever been in defiance of the strictures placed on him by their father, even before their mother’s capricious flight of fancy. The three siblings had grown up knowing they could rely only on one another—he, Justin, and Julianna. But if life’s lessons had taught him anything, it was that a man could not be molded...
should
not be molded.
Sebastian could never forget the scandal that had ripped their world apart when he was a boy. God knew, he’d lived with it every day since. Justin pos
sessed the charm and vivacity of their mother. He also possessed her wild streak, and that worried him. Julianna had been too young to understand what had happened...she missed her mama, but only for a time.
But Justin...Their father had tried to confine his headstrong ways. He had tried to restrain him. Se
bastian wanted to protect him, but like their mother, Justin had always been one to go his own way. Sebas
tian had recognized—as perhaps their father had not—that to rein him in, to control him, would only incur his rebellion.
Yet at times he was given to wonder if something more had occurred between their father and Justin. On several occasions, when Sebastian tried to press the issue, Justin chose to dismiss it in that careless, nonchalant way he had.
In truth, Sebastian could appreciate there were some things a man must guard closely within himself.
And he would not mold his brother into some
thing he was not.
“Bad luck,” he murmured. “What, you?”
“Indeed. And I would remind you, I arrived home before you, dear brother.”
“So you did.” Sebastian chuckled, and the tension between the two vanished. “Let it suffice to say that I did not expect to encounter a woman on the streets. Or
of
the streets, in all likelihood. Why else would she be out and about at such an hour?”
Justin frowned. “You don’t intend to notify the au
thorities, do you?”
“What, you think I shouldn’t?”
Justin regarded him steadily. “No, I don’t.”
“But the circumstances are suspicious at best. The
girl was stabbed. Why? What brought it about? Who did it? And where is he now?”
“Precisely. But isn’t that all the more reason to wait until she’s awake and able to speak, and then see how the game plays out?” When Sebastian said nothing, Justin gave a tiny shake of his head. “After all, it’s hardly like you to act impulsively.”
It was true. Impulsive was the one thing Sebastian would never be. He preferred order in his life. He was methodical, a meticulous planner. In his mind, it was why he usually achieved what he wanted.
“I hardly consider notifying the authorities an im
pulsive act,” he said slowly. “But I suppose you’re right. We should speak with her first.”
Justin cocked his head to the side. “I must admit, I’m surprised you agree so readily. Perhaps you’ve taken a fancy to the chit?”
Sebastian gave a short laugh. “I do believe I prefer my women to be more refined than thieves.”
“Ah, yes. There is that matter of respectability. Ad
mit it, though. She does have the most glorious breasts.”
Sebastian slanted his brother a thoroughly dis
gusted look.
“What, Sebastian! Are you going to say you didn’t notice? Are you going to say you didn’t look?”
Once again Sebastian maintained his silence. But this time he cursed the dull, red flush that crept be
neath his skin.
Justin chuckled. “I know better, Sebastian. Lord knows I admire your discretion, but I am your brother, after all. And I’m aware you’ve kept a num ber of mistresses over the years. Pray tell, who is the
latest?” He tapped a finger to his brow, as if engaged in great concentration. “I have it! Lilly, is it not?”
Sebastian sighed but made no reply. Heaven help him, Justin needed no further encouragement!
“Come now, Sebastian. I know you’ve a fondness for women.”
“As do you.” God, what an understatement! He emptied his glass, then set it aside. “There’s some
thing you should know, however, before you hear it elsewhere.” He paused, then said, “I’ve decided to take a bride.”
Justin erupted into laughter, then all at once stopped short. “Dear God,” he said incredulously, “you’re serious!”
“Quite.”
“And you made the announcement tonight?”
Sebastian smiled to himself. “In a manner of speaking.”
“Well, either you did or you didn’t.”
While Justin listened, Sebastian relayed the scene played out earlier in the evening as Sophia Edwina Richfield, the dowager duchess of Carrington, had made her round of farewells. She’d peered at him in the prim, stately way of hers from beneath snowy white curls. It was then she made her declaration, for that was the dowager’s way, ever forthright, ever direct.
“My boy,” she stated as she came to him, “it’s time you had a wife and children.”
Naturally a collective gasp was heard. All sound ceased. There had been little need to peruse the room to be aware that every head had turned, every ear strained to the limit to hear his reply.
And so Sebastian had merely kissed the duchess’s hand. “Your Grace,” he murmured, “I do believe you may be right.”
Sebastian knew then and there what would hap
pen next, for he was a man who did nothing without weighing the consequences. His agreement with the duchess would be bandied about at once. Tongues would wag, and his presence at every party and fete he attended for weeks to come would be noted by the
ton
. What he wore, what he ate, to whom he spoke, and, most notably, the women with whom he danced would most assuredly become fodder for the rags. A regrettable necessity, he supposed.
“You should have attended,” he finished with a faint smile. “I’m sure you’d have found it most enter
taining.”
“The Farthingale affairs are always the most bor
ing, tedious parties imaginable!” Justin rolled his eyes. “But to think you did not seek my counsel be
fore coming to such a momentous decision. You’ve hurt my feelings tremendously, Sebastian.”
“Yes,” Sebastian remarked dryly, “so I see. And I know what your counsel would have been.”
Justin regarded him through a haze of smoke. “What
is
behind this sudden decision?”
“It’s hardly sudden. I’ve been considering it for some time, if you must know. Besides, most men marry. Have children. It’s a matter of duty.”
“Ah, yes, duty. How predictable,” Justin drawled. “Might I inquire as to the candidates you’re consid
ering as your future wife?”
“You may inquire, but I’ve no particular woman in mind, to be honest. I’ve simply decided to narrow the field.”
“I see. Yet I am given to wonder if the woman ex
ists who can please you.”
Sebastian leveled an arch look upon him. “Pre
cisely what does that mean?”
“Forgive me,” Justin stated blandly, “but I cannot help but wonder if your requirements may not be rather . . . exacting.”
“Explain yourself.”
“Gladly. I think you would demand no less of a wife than you do of yourself. In short, a woman of perfection.”
Sebastian was ready with a rejoinder. “Not so much a woman of perfection, but the perfect woman for me.”
“Well,” Justin remarked, “you can certainly be discerning. Society’s ladies do tend to follow you about.”
“Just as they tend to moon after you.”
“The ability to charm the opposite sex certainly seems to be in the blood, doesn’t it?”
Caustic sarcasm swathed in silk—how very typi
cal of Justin. Sebastian ignored the jibe about their mother’s infidelities.
Justin continued. “I’ve been telling you for ages you’re the most sought-after bachelor in London. Now it’s official.”
“True,” Sebastian agreed. “But let us not mince words. In my case, it’s the title they want. The for
tune. Which reminds me”—he raised a brow, re
garding Justin through a haze of smoke—“isn’t it time you considered taking a bride as well?”
Justin dissolved into laughter. “Discharge yourself of the notion at once! I’ll never hang up the ladle, and well you know it.”
With that, Justin crushed out his cigar and ambled to his feet. Sebastian bid him good night, but did not follow. Loosening his cravat, he poured the last splash of brandy into his glass, then sank down into the big leather chair before the fire.
His fingers rubbed the back of his neck. Christ, what a night! For a long time he simply sat, allowing the peace and solitude of the night to slip into his bones. God knew, after a night like tonight, he needed it. Besides, this was an excellent time to plan and ponder the future...and his decision to take a bride.
The duchess was right. It was time he married. Contrary to what Justin might think, it was hardly a sudden decision. No, he’d been thinking about it for weeks now.
It was time. He was ready.
But there would be no mistakes.
There would be no scandal. No slight, no blight upon his name. It was a vow Sebastian had made to himself long, long ago, a vow that drove his every endeavor.
Ten years had passed since he’d assumed the title. There was now no taint, no shame in being a Ster
ling. Much had changed since then.