The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex) (17 page)

“Will this suffice?” asked Crowley.

“It will be most satisfactory.”

“I only hope no more thefts from the room will occur.”

Sebastian shivered. He had little desire for an intruder to break in while he occupied the room. “I am confident I will deal with any intruder,” said Sebastian.

As they spoke, the horses neighed again, stomping their feet on the dirt path. Sebastian and Crowley turned to each other as the unmistakable sound of glass crunching and footsteps startled them.

“The intruder.” Sebastian rushed into the hall, Crowley following closely behind. He scampered down the steps. “Where’s the poker?”

“In my hand, Your Grace,” said Crowley.

“Good man.”

They rushed down the stairs and scurried across the living room before opening the door to their fate.

Chapter Twelve

Sebastian gasped.

Penelope stood in front of him, wearing a heavy topaz pelisse and a straw bonnet. Creases lined her attire, and strands of her hair poked out of her bonnet in a less than artful manner, but there she was, standing before him: it was undeniable.

Sebastian shuffled back a few steps. “What are you doing here?”

“I am your cousin.” Penelope brushed past him. “I have every right to be here.”

She sauntered through the tiled hallway, barely glancing at the impressive staircase, and entered the drawing room. She surveyed the surroundings, nodding to the butler, whose mouth gaped. “You’ll need to take the furniture coverings off, Crowley. And clean that shattered glass. We intend to be at home here.”

“Are you not satisfied with London?” Sebastian hurried after her, puzzled at her presence. “The season will not last forever. Should you not enjoy it?”

“Perhaps.” Penelope untied her bonnet, the satin ribbons dangling over her shoulders. “But your sudden departure startled me. I do worry about you.”

“You must have left directly after I did.”

Penelope shrugged. “I was planning on visiting friends in the countryside anyway. After your coachman informed your manservant of your sudden departure, I decided to visit you instead.”

“How impulsive.”

She smiled. “Marcus says I will be the death of him.”

“Is he here?” Sebastian viewed the carriage from the sash windows, half expecting his burly cousin-in-law to exit, his dark hair ruffled from the journey.

“No, no. Though he is on his way. I sent word to him.”

“Right.” Sebastian inhaled. He had not really escaped from London at all. “Well, you are quite welcome here.”

He must not forget that Somerset Hall was once her own, and that the only reason it was now Sebastian’s was because her brother had died. Coming here was natural for her, and who was he to deny her that?

“So I can stay?” Penelope squealed and clapped her gloved hands together. “How wonderful. I will write Dorothea that she can arrive as well.”

“Dorothea? Would that not be inappropriate?” After his unconventional behavior with her brother, he was not eager to see her.

“Well, perhaps somewhat inappropriate. Most women do not move into their fiancés’ homes until married. I will need to chaperone the two of you. Though,” Penelope’s eyes gleamed, “I rather think I might be a somewhat negligent chaperone.” She laughed. “I will consider it my duty as a good guest.”

“Penelope,” Sebastian strove to sound stern. His heart clenched at the thought of Dorothea arriving at the manor, having already failed her so spectacularly. “That is most improper. I assure you Dorothea and I have no intention of sneaking around the house. There will be no need for you to turn a blind eye to anything.”

Penelope pouted. “You always were respectable, Sebastian. Even with all those girls throwing themselves at you. I do not know how you managed.”

Sebastian stayed silent, thinking about those minutes with William. He had hardly acted chivalrous then. Though, for that matter, neither had William. Why was it, that even after hours of solitude to contemplate his poor behavior, he could not be sure he even regretted the morning? Should he not feel repulsed? And why did he worry about how William might take his hasty departure?

“I will write Dorothea at once to invite her,” Penelope said. “I am sure she will be happy to come. Not stuck in London, telling people she is engaged, but the gentleman to whom she is engaged vanished to Sussex. Of all places. We were most startled when we found out. You must have left right before we arrived to call on her. Dorothea seemed quite upset, poor thing. You must have made her very fond of you. You and your blond curls.”

Penelope laughed and dropped her bonnet on one of the sofas. Sebastian picked it up, anxious to occupy his hands.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her why you left.”

Sebastian’s heart stopped. Had she heard something when William visited his bedroom? They had tried to be quiet leaving it, but . . .

Penelope had seen him around William. Perhaps his desire had been obvious. And perhaps she heard something when William visited his bedroom.

“Don’t look so startled.” Penelope laughed. “The world has not ended. The Last Judgment is not upon us.”

Sebastian swallowed, his heart hammering an uneasy rhythm, as if aware no pattern existed for dishonoring his family. “Forgive me, Penelope. I—I never intended to upset you. My emotions, maybe I have lacked a wife for too long, perhaps I got carried away . . .”

He was speaking nonsense. Utter nonsense.

Penelope tilted her head, observing him. “Well, clearly you did get carried away.”

“Oh?” The air thickened, and sweat gathered at the back of Sebastian’s neck.

“I think it’s sweet though.”

“You do?” Sebastian stared at his cousin in puzzlement. For a moment he allowed himself to grow hopeful. Perhaps William was right. Perhaps he worried too much. Perhaps he could have a life with William in it.”

“Of course. You want to prepare the estate for Dorothea’s arrival. It’s very romantic. Though you didn’t need to rush here so quickly.”

“Well, you know me.” Sebastian forced himself to laugh, wondering how he had imagined Penelope might know. If she knew, she would not be speaking to him now. His behavior would repulse her, and she would be furious at him for putting his reputation and that of his family in danger.

I would never see her again.

“Do you not know Bonaparte is planning to invade here?” Penelope asked, oblivious to his distress. “It can be at any moment. Any moment at all. I find it most exciting.”

“I cannot permit you to be in danger,” Sebastian said.

Perhaps Bonaparte would scare away his cousin if he could not. And then he could remain at the estate by himself, recovering from his encounter with William in the comfort and seclusion of his bedroom and library. He longed to lie in his bed now and pull the covers over himself.

“As if I can permit you to go into danger!” Penelope planted her hands on her hips. “I was always much braver than you anyway. I am certain you need me.”

“If by brave you mean your startling habit of jumping off tall fences, I rather think your lack of sense quite needed my presence.”

“Exactly. So you will take care of me. And soon, I hope, Marcus will come down, and you can both take care of me together.”

“There is no arguing with you, is there?” Sebastian sighed.

“No, not at all. Are you not going to have Crowley show me to a room? He will need to get a maid to prepare it for me. It’s already growing late; we would not want to be inconsiderate to anyone.”

“No, of course not,” Sebastian said, watching as Penelope swished past him in search of the butler. He did in many ways admire his cousin’s character. Perhaps she would distract him from the recent days’ experiences.

“Captain Carlisle will come too, of course.” Penelope called from the hallway.

Sebastian froze, forgetting how to breath. Images of William above him, beside him invaded his mind.

Sebastian struggled to steady his voice. “The captain? Did he say anything to you?”

“Oh, no. I left straight after I heard you were coming here. Luckily I was already packed. I imagine my lady’s maid can stay here too?”

“Of course,” Sebastian said, startled, uncertain if he was relieved or sorry she had not spoken to William. He peeked out the window. Penelope’s slender lady’s maid sat on the carriage stoop, reading.

“Stay away from her.” Penelope laughed, catching him looking out the window as she returned to the room with Crowley behind her. “You’re Dorothea’s now.”

“Naturally.” Sebastian’s skin heated, and he turned away from the window.

Crowley looked at him with suspicion. He had most certainly not been eying Penelope’s lady’s maid. How easy it was for some people to take him for typical in his desires.

He cleared his throat. “I am not sure about inviting William. The house is disordered. Many of the servants left because of the impending threat of Bonaparte and the thefts in the house.”

“Thefts? Have there been thefts in the house?” Penelope spun around.

“Yes.” Sebastian crossed his arms. “One more reason for you to return to the safety of London.”

“Oh, but how exciting. I always longed for a true mystery. Such as in one of those marvelous books by Ann Radcliffe.”

Sebastian shivered. “This is not a Gothic romance, Penelope.” He tried to speak in his sternest voice but was greeted only by laughter.

“Oh, but it may be when your beloved Dorothea comes along.” Penelope giggled. She glanced around, her eyes settling on the high ceiling. “I imagine this place can be quite spooky in the nighttime.”

“Please do not say that.” Sebastian shuddered, eyeing the marble fireplace that stretched to the ceiling, golden mythological images covering it. “I already find it traumatic I am not in Yorkshire.”

“Where everything is safe and boring,” Penelope said. “Yorkshire has not changed since goodness knows when. Even worse, the province prides itself on its ineptitude at changing. Indeed, I am quite pleased you are here. I only hope Marcus and Dorothea will join us soon.”

Sebastian was grateful she did not say William as well. Perhaps she would forget about him.

They strolled out of the house together as the maid prepared their rooms.

“How does it feel to be a duke?” Penelope gazed at the view outside of the garden. Classical sculptures guarded the main path at regular intervals, and a massive sundial stretched before the sky, useless in the gray March day. “All of this belongs to you now.”

“I rather wish it did not come with our relatives’ untimely deaths,” Sebastian replied.

Penelope’s smile faltered. “Of course. But you must find everything somewhat appealing, surely?”

Tenderness flowed through him. He sighed. “I was not raised to expect such things. I would not have missed it had fate not intervened.”

“Oh, Sebastian. And you have hardly spent a great deal of time managing your estate. Your horses were still tied to the carriage when I came around.” She paused. “Besides, you mustn’t refer to London in such a negative manner. I cannot imagine the process of finding a new wife was that trying for you. I quite enjoyed the process of finding my husband.”

Sebastian smiled. He did not doubt his cousin was a flirt. She would have found her season immensely enjoyable.

“Oh, but how exciting,” said Penelope. “We must explore the property, especially since no gardeners are around. We might meet a French soldier.”

“Why would we possibly want to encounter one, dear Penelope?” asked Sebastian.

“You are really far too sensible,” said Penelope. “One day we will discover a passion for you. Just imagine, the French soldier, his uniform soaking from the rain, shivering and afraid, separated from his fellow soldiers—I mean, they are French, how organized can they be?”

“You think we shall convert him to Englishness?”

“Of course. This is the land of the great and glorious.” Penelope swept her arms as she praised the country, and Sebastian had little doubt she believed in the veracity of her statement.

*

The wind howled and branches from the chestnut tree outside rapped on the window. Perhaps Penelope was correct in referring to Ann Radcliffe. Sebastian shivered, undressing in a hurry and scrambling underneath the crisp covers the maid had managed to find for him.

Sebastian dreaded sleeping in Lewis’s old room. Though sumptuous, the chamber lacked comfort, at least given the recent commotion. Perhaps he could charge Dorothea with redecorating it after they married. Women liked that, didn’t they?

He closed his eyes, settling into bed. It was comfortable, much more so than his carriage ride had been despite Sam’s smooth driving and the velvet interior. He allowed himself to relax, urging himself to sleep. His mind returned to William, and for a few moments, he was once again running his fingers over his silky skin, brushing his cheek against William’s stubble, throwing his arms about him—he jerked his eyes open.

He must not think of William. Not like this. And certainly not in the half-dressed state he imagined him in. A burgundy Bible lay on his night table. Had his soul already been doomed for all eternity, or could he ever redeem himself?

Soon he would be married. He should focus on that. Even he could not fail to notice that Dorothea was a beautiful woman. He forced himself to think of her rounded body and sweet voice, but his mind taunted him, returning to the morning’s events with pernicious consistency.

A few hours later, his cousin’s voice echoed through the door, “Sebastian.”

He searched for a clock in the room. Surely it was far too early for her to call him. He rolled over, reaching for his robe and stepping on the cold floor. He swung open the door.

He frowned, observing his cousin, clad in morning dress. “You do know this is hardly a decent time?”

Penelope’s skin flushed, but her back soon straightened. “You are not living in London by yourself now. You must entertain your guests.”

“Even though you are my only guest?” He groaned.

“Especially because of that. I am quite important,” Penelope said. “The sun is shining now, and I would not like to miss out. Who knows when the weather will be as magnificent?”