A Promise of More (2 page)

A fierce anger ripped through Sebastian. He had received enough beatings as a
child and had sworn never to let any man get the better of him again.

Unfortunately, Sebastian let his temper engulf him.

“Pistols at dawn then. Perhaps I’ll teach you some manners. You’ll learn to accept a man’s apology when it is sincerely offered.”

Doogie’s face grew deathly pale. “Whom should be my second contact?”

“Lord Hadley Fullerton. You’ll find him at White’s, where I’m now heading—I need a drink.” With that, Sebastian gathered his clothes, bowed low over Clarice’s hand, and said, “It was a pleasure, my sweet.” Under his breath he added, “Not quite worth the outcome,” and followed her maid to an adjoining room to dress. He could hear the couple’s angry words through the wall.

How stupid to fight a duel over something as insignificant as a lady’s honor. What honor? Clarice had invited him to her bed when clearly her arrangement with Lord Larkwell was not over. A woman’s fickle heart was nothing to duel over. A man’s pride shouldn’t be wounded because a woman was unfaithful. There would be daily duels if that were the case.

Once dressed, Sebastian escaped into the night to find Hadley. Perhaps he
should
have played cards this evening. The fleeting pleasure Clarice gave was not worth the early morning outing to come.

“Should you be wounded, it’s so bloody cold you’ll likely not feel it.”

Hadley’s words were of little comfort on this chilly dawn morning in a private corner of Kenwood, Hampstead.

“The mist will make it damn near impossible for Larkwell to see me. I doubt either of us will be in danger of being wounded, thank God.”

When Baron Larkwell arrived on the field with his second, Lord Eyre, and the obligatory surgeon, Sebastian simply wanted the whole damn charade over with. He picked the pistol closest to him and moved to his mark.

The count of twenty paces began and Sebastian once more cursed himself for agreeing to this folly. As they counted out the paces, he gave one final attempt to halt this nonsense. “For God’s sake, Larkwell. I unreservedly apologize. I did not realize you had such devoted feelings for Miss Hudson.”

“Bugger off, Coldhurst. I will have satisfaction. I may be impoverished but I will not have my woman defiled by the likes of you.”

The noises Clarice had made clearly indicated she wasn’t being defiled, or if she was, she was thoroughly enjoying it.

The surgeon gave the command. “Gentlemen, on my mark you may fire.”

Sebastian didn’t care that the swirling fog was so thick he could barely see Doogie. He’d been involved in previous duels and knew what to do. He closed his eyes and pointed his pistol wide of Doogie and fired.

Almost immediately a further shot could be heard. As Sebastian felt no pain, he surmised that Doogie had, thankfully, missed. He’d thought that likely, given the young Baron was not known for his marksmanship.

“Thank Christ that’s over and done with,” he muttered, and made his way through the mist toward his carriage.

He had almost made it to the edge of path by the carriage track when a series of loud curses rang out. A shiver of foreboding entered his being. He hastily looked at Hadley, who’d come to meet him.

“You’ve bloody killed him,” Larkwell’s second called out through the swirling mist, making the whole performance look like a scene from a graveyard, and now there was a body.

Sebastian stared at Hadley, shock rendering him mute.

“You must flee. Killing a man in a duel is a capital offense.” Hadley began shepherding him toward the carriage.

“I couldn’t have killed him. I aimed wide.” His voice rose as sickening regret choked him. “
I aimed wide
, I tell you. My shot should have gone nowhere near Doogie.”

Hadley hushed him and pushed him into his carriage. “You have to leave now. The surgeon is calling for the Bow Street Runners. If there has been some mistake, it would be better to deal with the outcome as a free man. Now
go
.”

“No. If I have done this, then I must face the consequences.”

His friend growled low in this throat. “Listen, I too noted you aimed wide. But while we sort out this terrible situation, you need to be free. Think on your family. What will happen to your sisters should you be incarcerated?” He glanced over his shoulder at the oncoming men and hurried Sebastian with a little push. “Go. I’ll take care of them, hold them off and hope I can pacify their reaction.”

Sebastian reluctantly agreed. He headed for the London dock and his ship, the
Seductress
. As he sat back in the carriage, regret and grief enveloped him. He wiped the sweat from his brow. This couldn’t be happening. He had purposely tried to avoid the lad. He’d wager his manhood on it, and for a man like him, that was not something he took lightly.

He’d fired well to the right of Doogie … Unless, in the mist, Doogie had paced off the mark.

He hung his head and tried to calm his racing heart by taking deep breaths. This was his worst nightmare playing out as if he were the lead in a morbid play. He had killed a man, for the most foolish and irresponsible of reasons—over a woman. It was a mistake—a tragic mistake.

His hands curled into fists against his thighs. He’d killed a young man. Killed him over a faithless, forgettable woman. He should have known better. He should have been the bigger man and walked away. History repeated itself.

Perhaps he was his father’s legitimate son after all.

Chapter One

London, April 1816

Despite the earliness of the hour and the crowded bustle of the dock, Beatrice Hennessey stood out like, well, like the notorious rakehell Lord Sebastian Hawkestone, Marquis of Coldhurst, would stand out in a nunnery.

She hated standing out. She lived in a world where she took great pains to blend in. She was nobody of note and definitely not one to buck the respectable trends of the
ton
.

It was absolutely scandalous to be alone on the busy dock. The trepidation she’d felt in dismissing the hackney and driver over two hours ago was nothing to the mortification she was feeling as the men, and some women, leered at her. Given how she was dressed, as a respectable lady, the fact she was standing on the filthy Thames dock unescorted made her as visible as a diamond necklace dropped in an East End street.

Stupidly she had thought her presence might go unnoticed.

The longer she stood looking at the ship berthed in front of her, the more lecherous the stares became. Originally the looks had been simply curious. Clearly she was a lady; where was her escort? Why was she here? Did she have anything of value?

She had sent the hackney away because she could not afford to keep it waiting. She carried nothing of value. She was alone because there was no one else to count on, no one else to do what must be done to save her family.

However, two hours later, when she still stood in the same place with her hands clasped firmly in front of her, the mood of the men and women around her had changed to contempt, overlaid with a veneer of politeness, worn as thin as her remaining patience.

Where was Coldhurst? She’d assumed since he had been away from England for several months, he’d arise and disembark early, possibly as soon as his ship docked. She’d been wrong there too.

However, the worst assumption she’d made was about the place she should confront the scoundrel. Beatrice wasn’t the only woman waiting at the bottom of the gangplank to Coldhurst’s vessel, the
Seductress
. Several ladies of questionable character made a flagrant display of their wares, determined to be the first to sell the goods on offer as sailors came ashore.

Beatrice didn’t judge the women. If Lord Coldhurst didn’t help her, she might well end up in their position, albeit, she hoped, with a more refined level of clientele.

Her shudder wasn’t entirely due to the early morning chill. Squaring her shoulders, she acknowledged the idiocy of her approaching Coldhurst alone. His last correspondence, however, had left her no option. It was time to take the bull by the horns—or some similar body part. She did not doubt Lord Coldhurst possessed horns. After all, he was the wicked devil who had fled England in disgrace several months ago.

Coldhurst owed her; owed her family—especially her ten-year-old brother, the new Baron Larkwell—a debt he could never repay. Yet Coldhurst wouldn’t be the only one to pay. If her two younger sisters and two infant brothers were to survive and maintain their place in society, Beatrice had little choice but to sell herself to the devil.

Had Doogie lived, he would have married an American heiress whose father wanted a title for his daughter. A title from a distinguished yet impoverished family. A title in exchange for more money than any of them could imagine. Lord Coldhurst had stolen their financial security from them. It seemed only right and just that he should restore the coffers he had brutally destroyed when he’d shot Doogie.

Pain filled Beatrice’s chest as it always did when she thought about her foolish younger brother. She bit back the tears and channeled her grief into her rising temper. Two hours she had waited alone and unprotected on this smelly, dangerous dock, because she could ill afford to keep a hack and driver waiting.

Chin high, Beatrice marched toward the gangplank, politely weaving through the other “ladies.” But as she stepped onto the gangway a rough hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

“Just where the hell do you think you’re going?” The underdressed, and therefore probably appropriately dressed, prostitute looked her up and down. “No female is ’llowed on board unless invited by the captain.”

Beatrice removed the woman’s grimy hand from her now dirt-smeared
shoulder and said, “Unlike you—” Beatrice hesitated, deciding to be both honest and polite, “ladies, I have important business with one of the passengers.”

The prostitute laughed out loud, nodding to the women behind her. “I’ve seen you waiting. You’re not expected. We’ve all got important business with them on board. You don’t get no special treatment. Get back in line.” And she pushed Beatrice backward into the now angry flock of screeching women.

The other women were far from gentle as they continued to push her away from the gangplank. The last woman in the group gave her an almighty shove and Beatrice ended up on her backside on the filthy dock, still tightly clutching her reticule.

She sat stunned for half a breath. Then anger surged through her as she clambered to her feet and, with jaw set, began pushing her way back through the melee of chattering and cursing women.

Finally, once more at the foot of the gangplank, she tapped her original assailant on the shoulder. The woman turned round. “My business,” Beatrice said before the prostitute could more than open her mouth, “is not your type of business. We are not in competition.”

The woman gave an ugly laugh. “Pah. I know who came in on that ship—his lordship. And when a man’s been at sea for a few weeks, he ain’t fussy about the quality of the goods. So piss off, and wait your turn.”

This time the violent shove wasn’t backward. It sent Beatrice sideways. She tried to steady herself, clawing the air, but it was too late. She tripped over a loose plank and pitched forward, arms flailing, over the side of the dock and into the water. Her scream ended as water filled her mouth.

She sank like a cannonball, the freezing water soaking into the many layers of her clothing, the weight pulling her under. She tried to kick her legs, stretching toward the murky sunlight above. Her lungs tightened to bursting point and soon black spots swarmed in front of her eyes. She was going to drown. How could she die? She was all the hope her family had left. She inwardly railed at her fate. Now look what she’d done. What would become of them all without her?

A double curse on Lord Coldhurst.

The last thing she remembered was a strong, muscular arm encircling her waist, and then she was being drawn up, up, up.

“She’s coming round. Stand back and give her some air.”

Beatrice felt nothing except a bone-chilling cold. Her teeth chattered. Her eyelids were too heavy to open, but she wondered, should she manage to pry them apart, if Doogie would be there to greet her.