The churning in her stomach worsened. But love was the one thing she had vehemently desired all her life.
Beatrice fell silent, considering all that had passed between them this morning. She finally gave a silent prayer of thanks. She’d done it. She closed her eyes and ran a shaky hand over her face. She had persuaded the ton’s most notorious rake to marry her, and saved herself from a monster.
A little pang of guilt would not dim her victory. She had lied to Coldhurst. She wondered what price she’d pay for that lie.
There
was
a suitor who had offered for her, the Earl of Dunmire. However, the thought of lying in his bed while he pawed at her—a shudder racked her nakedness. She’d prefer to drown.
While it was true that Coldhurst was not likely to be much of a husband to her, he had enough experience and, if gossip was to be believed, expertise in the boudoir to make begetting a child less of an ordeal, perhaps even pleasurable.
She clapped her hands to her flushed cheeks. Why had she thought that? She did not, and would not, allow herself to become enamored of a rakehell who had not only killed her brother, but who considered her little more than he would one of his horses—a means to breed. A woman he couldn’t care less about as long as she provided his heir.
A cold chill seeped through the blanket.
But he’s a far better option than Dunmire
.
Dunmire couldn’t touch her now. Not as the wife of the Marquis of Coldhurst.
A surge of euphoria lifted her spirits and for a change she laughed. If Lizandra could see her now …
Her laugh turned to a choking sob, and she buried her head in her hands and wept. Lizzy would never laugh again. The Earl of Dunmire had seen to that.
Coldhurst may have killed her brother but it was in a gentleman’s fight. Dunmire had killed her best friend, Lizzy, slowly, as a cat played with a mouse.
He’d taken advantage of a young girl and then left her in disgrace. Beatrice still, to this day, could not understand why her friend had not confided in her about Dunmire’s interest. She could have warned Lizzy about the type of man he was.
She sighed and began to dress. Lizzy probably wouldn’t have taken any notice. She saw Dunmire as a way to rise up through society. Instead, her friend had been raped and discarded by a man who now had Beatrice in his sights.
Having met Coldhurst, she was right to marry the lesser of two evils.
She denied that Coldhurst’s beauty was a deciding factor. But the quickening of her pulse called her a liar …
Chapter Three
Now that the decision to marry had been forced on him, calmness flowed over Sebastian like a cooling breeze on a hot summer’s day. Ordinarily the prospect of becoming wed-locked would repulse him; he’d be resisting with all his might. But he had killed Beatrice’s brother, be it unintentionally. This was the honorable thing to do. The family’s financial plight was not something he wanted on his conscience as well, nor Beatrice’s moral demise.
The special license burned a hole in his pocket as he strode up the front steps of Waverly Court, his London residence. Once they had both appropriately dressed, he’d escorted Beatrice safely home, and then he’d gone directly to obtain the required special license. Now he was about to face the hardest task of all, telling his sisters they were about to have another woman join their household and family.
Before he’d made it halfway up the front steps, the door flew open and Marisa stood looking down on him. He noted that she’d grown more beautiful in the months he’d been away, and he hoped Hadley had protected her as he’d promised. Then, surprisingly, he noted her eyes were swimming with tears, and in the next instant she flung herself at him, her arms encircling his neck and squeezing tight.
“Thank goodness you’re home safe. I missed you.” She pulled away and punched his chest. Hard. “Don’t ever do anything so foolish again! I refuse to lose my brother in a stupid duel.”
He pulled her close and kissed her nose. “I’ve missed you too, hellion.”
He looked past her to find Helen standing quietly in the doorway. He winked at her.
Helen looked up and down the street. “Come inside at once, you two. What a public spectacle you’re making.”
With Marisa’s arm tucked in his, he entered his home for the first time since he’d fled England, and a wave of delight washed over him. He’d missed this house, but most of all he’d missed his sisters. Family. He hugged Helen tightly. “Helly, I hope you’ve been reining in your sister. You can tell me later what scandalous behavior she’s been engaging in while I’ve been away. Where’s Aunt Alison?”
Helen hugged him back and kissed his cheek. “Auntie’s out visiting one of her friends; she’ll be back for dinner. As for Marisa, she’s run Lord Fullerton a merry race. The poor man deserves a medal.”
“Oh, stop. Just because you have a
tendre
for Lord Fullerton—”
“I do not,” Helen replied, with a blush racing over her cheeks.
It would appear he needed to have a talk with Hadley. He was aware that his friend would not have been encouraging Helen; she was far too young. Would he? Sebastian would give his close friend the benefit of the doubt, since he’d secured his pardon from Prinny.
Once settled in the drawing room, the girls with their tea and Sebastian with a large brandy in hand, he relaxed and finally gave the girls the presents he’d bought them in Jamaica.
They loved the little things he’d brought back, especially the shell bracelets. He couldn’t believe how much he had missed these family gatherings. Usually he could stand the two girls’ babbling for only a few minutes before he was either off to his club or out looking for other amusements. However, today he was content to listen to their prattle.
He let them babble on about the latest news from within the
ton
, content to enjoy the comforts of home.
It was Marisa who gave him the opportunity to share his news. She said, “I’m pleased you sorted out this mess regarding the duel before the start of the season. I would have been unable to attend most of the balls if the Prince Regent had not pardoned you. As it is, I’m unlikely to get an invite to Almack’s because of my brother’s wicked reputation.”
Helen gently corrected her sister: “The only reason you won’t get an invite is because all the mothers are too scared you’ll outshine their daughters. You’re too beautiful.” But she turned to Sebastian and added, “However, being related to you is both an advantage and disadvantage.”
“How so?”
“Well, half the mothers don’t invite us because they know you’ll escort us. They fear the notorious rake’s reputation.”
He gave a wicked smile. “They have no need to fear. I stay well clear of marriageable young ladies.”
Marisa finished the tale for her sister. “While the other half beg us to come,
hoping to ensure your presence. They simply wish to marry their daughters to a rich and handsome marquis.”
He looked between them both and smiled. “Well, then I have some news that should please you. I’m getting married tomorrow by special license.”
Helen jumped to her feet. “By special license? Oh no. What have you done now?”
Her assumption of ill behavior stung. “I have done something honorable for a change, if you must know. I’m marrying Beatrice Hennessey.”
Their stunned silence was priceless. Helen slowly retook her seat, and was the first to snap shut her open mouth.
Marisa finally said, “For goodness’ sake. You can’t marry Henpeck Hennessey. You’ll be miserable.”
He frowned and sat up straighter. “Henpeck?”
Helen gave her sister a hushing and added, “The men gave her that cruel name, while the ladies think she’s rather nice.”
“Dull, but nice,” Marisa added. “On-the-shelf, spinster nice. They do not see her as a threat to their daughters’ finding a match.”
Sebastian only heard the words “men gave her.” “What men would these be and how is it you are in their confidences?” He really shouldn’t have left them with Hadley.
Marisa gave him that sly smile he knew so well. “Not anyone in particular. It’s amazing what a lady can overhear when no one is paying her any attention.”
He scoffed at that. “Every man pays you far too much attention.”
“I overheard Lord Cunniffe tell Lord Fullerton that if her brother hadn’t been killed in a duel, Beatrice would likely have henpecked him to death. Apparently she was always berating him about his behavior.”
Given the family finances, he could understand why.
“Goodness, she was known to turn up at gaming hells to drag him home. Scandalous. No wonder no man offered for her. She’s quite attractive when she smiles, but what man wants a nagging, controlling woman for a wife?” Marisa looked innocently at her brother. “So I heard Cunniffe say.” She rushed on, “But I can’t see any woman being able to control you.” She then gave him her most beguiling smile.
“Minx.” He had to laugh. “So you listen to one piece of gossip and assume that is how she is perceived?”
Helen looked at her sister, then back at him. “Not exactly. Once you’d fled England, many joked that, had you not shot Doogie, he’d have likely hanged himself because of Henpeck Hennessey. Many thought Larkwell overreacted regarding your sleeping with his mistress, and that he was in an ill temper because Beatrice had been henpecking him to give her up.” She winced but added, “We tried not to listen to the gossip, but many took pleasure in detailing the scandal and were rather less than complimentary about you and her brother.” She shrugged. “Especially the ladies of the
ton
whom you’d slept with and tossed aside.”
Now he felt
his
cheeks heating. Of course his sisters would find out why there had been a duel. But really! Hearing about the women he’d slept with, learning about behavior they should know nothing about … or maybe they should? He didn’t want his sisters falling for any notorious rake that shimmied into their lives. With a start he realized that meant a man like him.
Suddenly the notion of what sort of example he was setting for his sisters slammed into him like a deadly bullet. His reputation not only affected him, it affected his sisters. He’d never thought about it before, but now that they were young debutantes out in the marriage mart, trying to attract the right sort of man, he needed to present a more refined front. His marriage to Beatrice couldn’t have come at a more opportune time.
“I am not discussing whom I have …” He floundered to find the words. “Needless to say, I do not condone you listening to gossip and I will insist on you welcoming Beatrice into our family regardless of your concerns.” He looked each of his sisters in the eye in turn. “I am more than content with this arrangement. Do you understand?”
“But why? You could have any woman you wanted. Someone beautiful and stylish. At least a woman who isn’t completely boring. Someone like Lady Christina. I’ve heard she was your—”
Sebastian cut her off. “Lady Christina. How do you know about …,” he spluttered. “Never mind.”
“She’s beautiful and the belle of every ball. All the men want her but she seems to want only you. The gorgeous widow has turned down countless proposals, but I’m sure she’d marry you. She is forever talking about you and your expertise in—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, young lady.” Christ, what had Hadley
introduced Marisa to while he’d been gone? “Whom I wed is my concern.”
“But you shouldn’t have to marry Hen—Miss Beatrice out of guilt, Seb. That’s not fair on either of you.” Helen’s quietly spoken words deflated the conversation. “We just want you to be happy.”
Marisa sighed and folded her hands demurely in her lap. Sebastian wasn’t fooled. The more demure, the more mischief Marisa got herself into.
“We shall be on our best behavior and will of course welcome her into our home.”
He didn’t miss the word “our.” This was not going to be easy. The girls had been the ladies of the house for the past five years. It would take some adjusting on their behalf to having a new woman take over the running of his households.
He stood. “I’m pleased to hear it. Now I’ll leave you to your gossip while I go and deal with the pile of correspondence on my desk. The marriage is to take place tomorrow at Bow Street Chapel. I shall ask Lord Fullerton to stand up for me; I expect you, Marisa, to support Beatrice.”
“I haven’t seen Lord Fullerton for over a week. Besides, do we not get to meet her before the wedding?”
He shook his head. He doubted Beatrice or her mother would wish to sit at the same table with him as if the duel had not occurred.
“No. I think not. Tomorrow will come soon enough.”
“You will be here for the welcome-home dinner we have prepared for you? You’re not rushing off to have one more night of freedom?”
He looked at their expectant faces and nodded. “But I may go out afterward. I need to catch up with Hadley.”
“Oh, I forgot. A missive arrived from him yesterday. It’s on your desk in your study.”
He strode from the room, calling over his shoulder, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Reaching his desk, he ignored more important letters and documents and went straight for Hadley’s missive. He tore at the seal, and for some reason his heart began to speed up.
Hawke,
I’m sending this note to your London residence in the hope that
you’ve received word of Prinny’s pardon and you’re back in England. I’m bored in the country and could use a visit from my fellow Oxford don.…
Sebastian didn’t bother to read the rest of the short message. He lit a small candle sitting on his desk and held the paper above it. Brown letters began to emerge to reveal a hidden message. The phrase “Oxford don” was code within the Libertine Scholars. It indicated there was a secret message hidden in the note.
Hawke,
You could be in danger. I won’t explain in writing, even in a hidden message. If and when you arrive in England, please travel immediately to Markham’s estate in Dorset unless I’m back in London. There may be more to Doogie’s death than we know. I’ll explain all when you arrive. Take care, my friend.