The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex) (12 page)

Sebastian nodded, heading for the door.

Chapter Eight

Sebastian pushed through the French doors of the ballroom, greeted by crisp March air. Likely the garden would draw more people in the coming warmer months, but for now, Sebastian was happy to be free of the hum of the crowd.

He descended the marble steps, the lemony scent of paper daphnes perfuming the air. Grecian statues lined the middle of the courtyard, their frozen hands raised to the sky, twisting to reveal their half-naked figures.

Lilacs adorned the courtyard, creating nooks in which to search for William. The shrubs arched out, leaving space for heavy flowers to bloom. For now, the place remained in a state of anticipation, waiting for spring’s magic to transform it. A butterfly flitted in front of Sebastian, a splash of color in the evening light.

As he reached a statue of Aphrodite, a deep voice called his name. His heartbeat quickened.

William sat in a painted pagoda in the corner of the garden. Sebastian approached, his boots grinding on the gravel path. Tall foxgloves peeked from between the densely packed bushes, the strands of bell-like flowers fluttering as he moved past. William looked lost amidst the Oriental carvings of the pagoda, and Sebastian had a sudden urge to comfort him.

Instead he examined the structure. “Chinese?”

“Indian, I think.” William stroked the painted wood, exposing his broad hands. They were the hands of a warrior, coarsened from experiences Sebastian knew nothing about.

He shivered.

“They had these in India,” William continued, “though those were larger. How strange to find one here.”

“Cousin Caroline tells me townhouse gardening is a growing décor movement.”

“She is at the vanguard.”

“Undoubtedly.” Sebastian smiled. “Tell me, is the pagoda nice?”

“The view is more favorable when sitting.”

“Shall I join you?”

William gazed up at him. His eyes seemed tired, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose you are eager to rejoin the party and Dorothea.”

They had not spoken since their meeting in Brighton, and Sebastian hesitated, unwilling to leave now.

William clutched a crystal tumbler in his hand, and the scent of whiskey wafted out. He raised his glass, and Sebastian stared, transfixed by the rose color of his lips. For a moment, he was consumed with a desire to touch them.

What would it feel like to touch the man’s lips with his own? Would they be soft or firm? For one moment, he allowed himself to imagine sucking on the bottom lip, and teasing his mouth open. He envisioned resting his chest against William’s and wrapping his arms around him.

Sebastian blinked. The magnitude of the inappropriateness of his thoughts nearly overwhelmed him. His legs quivered as he entered the pagoda. He settled on the bench beside William. Only a foot separated them. He could reach out and touch William, or William could touch him. The strength of his yearning startled him. His hands shook, and he forced them to lie flat on the seat. He focused his eyes on the painted panel in front of him, as if he could ever pretend that William was not beside him.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Does the party not enchant you?”

“Many things meant to enchant fail to do so, while those that are forbidden do.”

They were silent. William’s scent, heavy with pine needles, distracted Sebastian. He tensed and struggled to remember to breathe.
In and out, in and out
, he reminded himself, ensuring his breaths were not too noisy. Sebastian had the strange sense the moment was of the utmost significance, and any words spoken would be etched into his mind forever.

“Why did you leave the festivities?” William asked.

“I wanted to find you,” Sebastian confessed.

“You did?”

The air grew hot and uncomfortable. Now was the time to ask him about his encounters with men. William may have denied knowing the colorfully clad man, but Sebastian had witnessed his discomfit. And yet he could not bear the thought of making William uncomfortable, and he resisted the temptation to pry. If he insisted William reveal his own secrets, William might ask about his feelings. He did not want to reveal secrets that would lead to his own humiliation.

Instead, he said abruptly, “I have decided to go to Sussex.”

William tensed beside him. “Whatever inspired you to take that unusual action?”

Sebastian straightened, conscious of William’s disapproval. “It’s my duty. I’m the duke, and I belong at my estate, particularly if the place is in need.”

“I doubt most noblemen possess the same commitment you do, even when already acquainted with the place.”

Heat rose to Sebastian’s face. “Do not mock my desire to help.”

William regarded him. “I trust you will wait until after the threat disappears?”

“You mean Bonaparte?”

“Yes. You’re aware he plans to attack Sussex?”

Sebastian shrugged. “A rumor.”

He refused to stay in London any longer. People had predicted an invasion for years, and it had never occurred. Why should it happen now? Sebastian could not postpone the start of his new life any longer.

William crossed his arms, and his frown deepened. “Planned invasions are not confirmed by the other side beforehand.”

“So I should leave the servants all by themselves? Just because I have not been a duke for long does not mean I do not recognize I have a duty.”

“This is not the time to discover it.”

“Why are you agitated?”

“I am not. But for my—I mean, for Dorothea’s sake . . .” William swallowed. “She would no doubt miss your presence if harm should befall you. She might never recover.”

Sebastian averted his gaze.

“Dear Lord, you cannot mean to say Dorothea intends to join you?”

“She was most amenable to the idea. I believe she feels a responsibility to Somerset Hall—quite an admirable quality.”

“Then I suppose you will be happy with each other,” William said harshly.

Sebastian blinked, startled at the force of William’s anger. “Do you think it so plausible Bonaparte might attack?”

“I don’t know if he will.” William sighed. “Our navy, thank heavens, is strong, though France is not far away. If they did manage a sneak attack, they would demolish us. There is little protection at all against the French on land. They might march straight through. And they would start in Sussex.”

“Or Kent.”

“Yes,” William conceded. “Perhaps they would go to Kent first.”

Sebastian leaned against the pagoda wall. William’s opinion was influenced by his recent time spent fighting in India, in part, because his generals worried France might gain undue influence if the British were to leave. To him, France would be a heavy threat indeed. “Perhaps you are correct.”

“I most certainly am.”

“When I spoke to Sir Ambrose, he rather inspired me to go to Sussex.”

“Sir Ambrose is hardly a trustworthy source of information.” The words came out tersely.

Sebastian tensed again in the silence, shaken by William’s conviction.

“You’ll be married soon,” William said.

He gazed at him, letting his eyes linger over the curves of his face. Sebastian fought the urge to trace his fingers over the faint stubble on his chin.

A Haydn quartet streamed from an open window and reminded Sebastian that he should return to the festivities.

Sebastian closed his eyes. He should have grown out of these urges. He had led himself to believe that he simply formed emotional attachments to men from time to time because he tended to be surrounded by men. He had been so isolated in Yorkshire after Henrietta died, and so consumed in raising Charlie for those first couple of years that he had managed to ignore these thoughts and emotions. His mind returned consistently to admire men, an admiration that extended to the physical. His eyes lingered naturally on their forms. He could no longer deny that.

He swallowed. William regarded him intently.
What was he thinking?

“Did you want to speak to me about anything else?” William asked.

Sebastian gazed into William’s eyes. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions in his mind. Had William ever kissed a man? Just because William had seemed familiar with the molly house in Brighton did not mean he frequented it. Though it did seem very likely.

“Was there nothing else?” William repeated.

Sebastian shook his head.

“No?”

“Well.” He inhaled, not possessing sufficient courage to speak to William. He must not forget Dorothea. “I thought perhaps, since your father is unable, you might give a speech.”

“A speech?” William’s jaw clenched.

“Well, just an introduction. For Dorothea. She would be appreciative. I am sure.”

William flinched.

The pain on William’s face was unmistakable. Sebastian should never have made the suggestion

“No? Well, it is not required for you to say anything. Forgive me, I should not have asked you.”

“Nonsense. I’m happy to give a toast.” William’s voice cracked. “I’m fond of my sister. Was there anything in particular you wanted me to say?”

Sebastian shook his head. William sat so near, too near, blurring the world around him. His mind was distracted by the nearness of William’s body. Which was precisely what he should not concentrate on. He opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out.

William smirked. Sebastian noticed even in the moonlight. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m not smiling.”

“You are too,” Sebastian protested. William could be most difficult sometimes.

“You may have amused me,” William said. “The way you watch me sometimes. It just—never mind.”

Nothing about the explanation reassured him. Had he looked at William in an inappropriate manner? Did William guess? He hesitated to think of the word
sodomite
, pushing the term from his mind. He did not see himself as depraved, but was that not how his vicar would describe his urges? The government executed sodomites. He ran his hand through his hair and leaned back against the bench. The scene in front of him fogged, the trees and plants melding together in distortion.

“What’s wrong?” William leaned over in concern, his dark eyes flashing.

“I—”

The sound of moaning, coming from behind a bush in the garden, interrupted him.

Sebastian straightened, relieved to focus his attentions on something else.

“Somebody is taking advantage of the seclusion,” William said, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Indeed.” Sebastian looked around, but he could not see anyone. “Perhaps we should tell Caroline. It may be one of the debutantes.”

“It is one of the debutantes. Married people do not do such things. They possess beds in their homes for such purposes.”

“Oh.” Sebastian wondered again if he should call his cousin. As hostess, she was responsible for the well-being of her guests.

“Let them have their enjoyment,” William said, as if reading his thoughts. “Who knows when they will have a chance to meet each other in private again? Can you not imagine being tempted by lust?”

That was exactly what Sebastian did imagine. He gazed at William. His lips parted.

The moans, interspersed with panting, continued, growing in volume.

Sebastian tugged at his cravat, embarrassed at the sound. William eyed him curiously again.

“Are you sure you want to marry my sister?”

Sebastian stiffened. Was William teasing him, using him to play the brotherly role? Was he going to report back to Dorothea? If only William were not Dorothea’s brother.

“I am happy with your sister.” He shifted under William’s steady gaze. “I can provide for her with ease.”

“Forgive me. I did not mean to question your suitability.”

Sebastian turned to William, whose eyes, steady and serious, lacked any trace of humor. “It’s my duty.”

“Enough talk of duty. Please. There is no need.”

A twig snapped, and they turned. A woman slipped back into the ballroom, rearranging her tousled hair. Everything was still in the garden. A cotillion played from an open window. A few minutes later, another woman followed. Sebastian’s eyes widened in shock.

“Two debutantes, then.” William’s lip curled.

Sebastian coughed. “When we went to Brighton the other day, and the man came up . . .” He stopped, not wanting to hurt William. “Do men, do some men really—”

“You want to know if men can be with men?” William’s mouth curved in amusement.

Shame filled Sebastian. He had just given William an interesting anecdote for an engagement toast. William did not give the appearance of a man contemplating ludicrous jokes for a speech, and his eyes rested once again upon Sebastian.

“You are quite innocent.” William stroked his chin.

Sebastian did not know what to say. He supposed he was. His only experience had been with Henrietta, and that had neither lasted long nor been memorable.

“Why didn’t you remarry before now?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Henrietta’s death came so suddenly that I was distraught. She did not deserve to die.”

“And other women?”

Sebastian’s heart stopped. Should he confess he had little interest in them? Would that be ungallant?

Perhaps William read something in his unease, for he smiled at Sebastian. “You need not say anything.”

Something about William’s beauty . . . Sebastian lowered his eyes, worried he had been quite openly staring.

William leaned closer to Sebastian, his voice low and seductive. “Have you practiced your wedding dance?”

Sebastian stared at him.

“I’m an excellent dancer,” William said confidently.

Sebastian’s chest clenched, and his legs weakened. “I trust you do not mean to volunteer your services.”

William grinned and slid his arm along the bench behind Sebastian’s shoulder. “I’m here for whatever you require,” he whispered. “You deserve to be happy.”

Sebastian’s heart thrashed in his chest, as if it sensed the presence of William’s arm, even though William did not touch him,

“I can assure you, though, of one thing.”

“What?” Sebastian drew his eyes back up to William.