The Actor and the Earl (7 page)

T
HE
ride became less comfortable as the coach bounced over the deep ruts in the dirt tracks. The rain from the preceding days made the going heavy for the horses, but despite being jostled inside the carriage, Sebastian enjoyed the journey. Leaving the city behind, travelling through the woodlands, the stench of thousands of people crammed together in squalid streets was replaced by the fresher smell of trees and undergrowth. He lost himself in pages of
The Arcadia
, the hours passing in a stream of sonnets and prose.

It was only when the carriage slowed that Sebastian looked up from the book. Staring out of the window, he realized by the position of the sun that it was easily late morning, and as the coach headed over the rise of a hill, he saw Crofton Hall for the first time. He’d been to other grand houses. As a boy, before his father had sold the house in Portsmouth to settle some of his debts, they’d visited Breamore House, as his father was great friends with the family who owned it. And during his first years as an actor, Sebastian’s troupe had performed in many nobles’ houses, but apart from the royal palaces, Crofton Hall was grander than anything he’d seen before.

The house was imposing and beautiful with its red brick façade and symmetrical architecture, the left side mirroring the right. He daren’t think how much money had been spent on its design. The long central gallery had a large entrance at its middle and a wing on either end, with matching chimneys and curved gables that, even from a distance, Sebastian could see were highly decorated. The formal gardens to the front were a blaze of spring flowers, and extended out of view, Sebastian thought he could see the start of a maze to the west of the house.

The carriage trundled on into the grounds of the hall and passed a gang of men tending to the garden, who stopped working to bow to him. Servants were gathering at the entrance of the house as they arrived, the second coach veering away to the back of the house, and he saw Anthony, dressed to thrill in a deep-blue doublet, waiting among them. The coach halted, and instead of a servant, it was Anthony himself who opened the carriage door.

“Lady Bronwyn,” he said, taking Sebastian’s hand and helping him down, “welcome to your new home.”

Like at the wedding, Sebastian’s appearance caused quite a stir among the onlookers. But unlike the wedding, those watching daren’t be so blatant, and surprised looks soon disappeared as Anthony guided him into the hall.

The entrance was just as magnificent as the outside. Large glass windows made the room light and surprisingly airy. The walls were lined with a collection of shields and decorative weapons, and there was a suit of armor that stood at the foot of an impressive staircase.

“Belonged to my father,” said Anthony, patting the helmet of the armor. “Couldn’t bear to part with it. Let me escort to you room. Then we shall have some dinner. Perhaps you would like to see the gardens this afternoon while the light it still with us?”

“I would like that very much.”

Sebastian took Anthony’s arm and ascended the stairs. The upper gallery was lined with portraits of the Crofton family, the resemblance through the ages obvious, and Sebastian thought that, even without the wooden plaques under each painting, he’d know a Crofton when he saw one. They all had the same long face and straight nose, and the bright blue eyes were unmistakable. Between the pictures were more ornamental weapons, including a curved sword that made Sebastian do a double take.

“A trophy from the crusades,” explained Anthony. “There are a number of historic keepsakes littered throughout the house, some going even further back than that.”

They entered the west wing, its corridor darker than the gallery as the only window was at the far end. About halfway down, passing a large tapestry depicting the hunt of Pan, Anthony stopped and pushed open a solid oak door. “The lady of the hall’s room. I do not think you’ll be disappointed.”

He’d thought the room in the Crofton’s townhouse was special, but it paled in comparison to the room he stood in now. The large window, dressed in heavy drapes of deep violet, flooded the room with sunlight, which was quite a feat given the room was twice the size of anything he’d ever stayed in before. The four-poster bed was ornately carved from a dark wood and covered in a throw the same color as the drapes, and was soft to the touch as he brushed his fingers across its surface.

“This is wonderful.”

“And like the townhouse, there’s a door directly to my room.”

Anthony’s arm snaked around his waist, pulled him close, and guided him to the window. “The view from this side of the house is one of my favorites.”

Sebastian thought the view of the maze and the rose garden was lovely, but he could hardly concentrate on anything other than being wrapped in Anthony’s arms.

“We should head back downstairs for dinner. Afterward, there’s a particular place in the grounds I’d like you to see.” Anthony let him go, and Sebastian was suddenly cold at the loss of contact.

Chapter 6

D
INNER
, like breakfast that morning, was just the two of them. And Anthony had described a little of the history of the house on the way to a small dining room on the ground floor of the west wing. “Of course, there is the great hall, but I didn’t think you’d relish having to shout across the room to be heard,” said Anthony as he pulled out a chair at the dining table.

“I’m surprised that Earl Crofton did not have a house full of visitors on his return from London.” Sebastian helped himself to a large slice of game pie and half a guinea fowl.

“I crave one day away from society’s great expectations of me. Enjoy it, we have guests more days than not.”

“And as your doting wife, am I to be at the center of the game, or a mere part player on the edge?”

Anthony laughed and almost spat out the chicken he was eating. “I think it would be a crime to banish you to the wings.”

“I doubt even one of Will Shakespeare’s most outlandish plots could hold a candle to the wild life of Anthony Crofton.”

“Perhaps when I was a younger man….” He looked wistful for a moment but winked and continued, “I admit I’ve had my share of excitement. Some might say I’ve had theirs as well.”

Sebastian saluted Anthony with his goblet. “Some might say that you’ve many years of mischief ahead of you.”

They clinked goblets, Anthony’s losing a significant portion of its contents. “Oh no. I am a sedate middle-Englander now, happy to enjoy the gardens and tired of the comings and goings of court.”

Sebastian snorted in what could only be described as a very unladylike manner. “That I do not believe.”

Anthony pushed away from the table. “Then I will have to prove it to you.”

He turned to a servant who had tried to be unobtrusive by standing in a corner. “Have a basket of food and a flask or two of wine taken to the arbor. After that, I do not wish to be disturbed.”

The servant bowed and raced away. Sebastian sat further back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What are you doing?”

He was pulled to his feet and dragged by the hand out of the dining room and toward the entrance of the house. “I am relocating dinner to the gardens,” said Anthony. “I wish to be surrounded by a gentle setting, and I am sure that my lovely wife is eager to see the roses.”

They walked arm in arm across the ornamental lawn. With a glance over his shoulder, Sebastian was satisfied that they were far enough away from the house that they would be out of range of any eavesdropper. “You do realize that I’m not actually a woman? I am sure that the rose gardens are among some of the finest in the whole of England, but I am not what you would call excited by them.”

“I thought there was something I missed last night—next time I should observe more closely.”

“If your observational skills are that poor, then perhaps there are other, more pressing things to be worried about.”

The look on Anthony’s face was priceless, his mouth part open and his eyes wide. Sebastian smirked and wondered if Anthony was not used to having someone who would engage him in a friendly battle of words. He reached over and gently pushed Anthony’s jaw up and closed. “Not a fitting look, Your Grace.”

Anthony grabbed his hand. “You are going to be troublesome. I will have to keep you close to make sure you remain in line.”

“That sounds like a promise, not a threat.”

Anthony’s low growl was in no way threatening, and Sebastian found himself manhandled so Anthony’s arm was around his waist and he was being steered toward the rose gardens.

“While we are out of range of any prying eyes or ears, I wanted to speak to you about some arrangements I have put in place,” said Anthony.

“Arrangements?”

“Yes. Crofton Hall is a large house with too many servants for a ruse like ours to go unnoticed without having taken some precautions. A number of the senior servants, the ones I trust absolutely, are aware of what is going on. Miriam and her husband are two of them, but also Wallace the steward and a few others have been told.”

Sebastian nodded. “Makes perfect sense.”

“And there are a few other things to be mindful of,” said Anthony. “When we are outside our private rooms, and you are dressed for the part, I will always call you Bronwyn. And you should take extra care to always lock your bedroom door. We do not want a helpful maid seeing too much.”

“I will do my upmost to make sure our secret remains so.”

“I know you will. Miriam has a key to your room, so she will also take care to keep it locked, and she has let it be known that Lady Bronwyn is not fond of having her privacy interrupted.”

Sebastian saw the shimmer of water that disappeared out of sight as they passed through a decorative arch into a secluded garden. It was too early in the year for the roses to be in flower, but the foliage was lush and green and had a fresh aroma all its own.

In the furthermost corner was a stone bench, and in front of it, laid out on woolen blankets, was the remains of their dinner set out as a picnic. Anthony dropped to the ground and arranged himself in a graceful sprawl, picking up a chicken leg and using it to point to the space beside him. “Come down here and bask in my company.”

Sebastian flapped his skirt. “If I sit down there, I may have trouble getting back up.”

“If she is suitably nice to me, then I will help my good lady wife to her feet.”

With difficulty, Sebastian managed to settle on the blanket, but his dress didn’t make for the most comfortable sitting position. He accepted a cup of wine but waved away the food.

Anthony wiped his hands on the blanket before rising to his hands and knees and crawling toward Sebastian, sporting the same lustful expression he’d worn the night before. He gently pushed Sebastian backward and tried to kiss him.

Sebastian rolled away. “What are you doing? We might be seen!”

“This is a very secluded part of the grounds,” replied Anthony, undeterred by Sebastian’s concerns.

“But as you have already said, we should be careful,” he insisted, shuffling away so he was out of arm’s reach. “This should be for when we are alone—for in private.”

“And I’ve told you, here is private.” Anthony scowled. “A man should be able to do what he wants to his wife on his own property. Why so prudish now?”

The word “wife” made Sebastian’s stomach knot painfully, and he wondered just what drove Anthony’s passions. Last night he was sure it was him, just Sebastian, not a skewed image of him as his sister.

All Sebastian could think of was the risk; what if they were caught? What if he was dragged before a court? There would be no way he would keep his head from resting on the executioner’s block. But Anthony, if he said he had not bedded his wife, could claim he’d been tricked. And Sebastian knew for that to be a believable defense it was imperative they were never caught.

“We shouldn’t.”

Anthony’s face was as if a mask had fallen across it, cold and distant. He got to his feet. “It appears my advances are no longer wanted.”

Before Sebastian could answer, Anthony was striding away. Sebastian called after him, but Anthony did not turn back, leaving Sebastian sitting in the ruins of their picnic.

T
HE
sun was starting to set when Sebastian finally walked back to the house. The last few hours he’d spent in a daze, not quite understanding how things had deteriorated so badly between him and Anthony. At some point he’d lost his shoes, but wasn’t certain where; a vague recollection of a patch of mud on the banks of the lake came to mind. The hem of his skirt was filthy, and the weather had turned from sunshine to drizzle, which had saturated his clothes and made him damp all the way through to his skin.

Before he could reach the house, Miriam came hurtling toward him. “Oh my, look at you. Where have you been? I was worried sick!”

“Exploring the grounds,” he said, not looking at her.

She tutted loudly. “We need to get you out of those wet clothes. Lord Anthony will be upset if you fall ill.”

Sebastian trudged into the house. “I doubt the earl would care.”