The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex) (27 page)

Sebastian pushed past him.

He spent the rest of the day in his library. Every sound outside the heavy walnut doors jolted him. Somebody had discovered his inclinations. And now he must wait to see what the person would do with the information, if the person would try to tear his life apart, forcing scandal upon his family.

He longed for the way things had been before. Had he never met William, even if he might never have enjoyed the benefits of a truly romantic attachment, he might have concentrated on being a good estate manager. He could have taken up the former duke’s seat in the House of Lords and thrown himself into politics. Though he never relished the thought of speaking in public, he could have worked on creating worthy policies.

Maybe he could still do those things, maybe he could extinguish any rumor. He might find things to distract himself from the ache in his chest whenever he thought of William.

How had he imagined that he deserved happiness? When he had already been blessed with wealth, status, and a caring family? How presumptive of him to desire more from his life. Dorothea desired the marriage. How could he take that away from her? And how could he have risked William’s life, his livelihood, by entertaining notions that they could ever be together? Perhaps a duke might escape the noose, but William’s status was lower and less immune to the ferocious courts.

And now William was in pain, and he was all to blame. He, who had only wanted to adore William. The Bible was correct: Sebastian’s nature was vile, intrinsically flawed.

He tossed in his bed, worried his betrothed might hear him on the other side of the wall. She would not appreciate it if he paced the room. But pacing was what he wanted to do.

Scratching sounded outside.

William.
His heart jolted. Perhaps William was trying to see him. He threw on his dressing gown, following the sound on the balcony. He didn’t know what he would say to William, but he yearned to see him again. William had already enriched his life so much. They should never have fought.

A loud crash and a high-pitched scream stopped him. The sound came from the next room over. From Dorothea’s room.

He bounded to the hallway, his bare feet sinking into the heavy Oriental carpet. He scrambled to find a lantern in the inky darkness and cursed that he had blown his out before. Another scream jarred him. Never mind the light now. He rushed to Dorothea’s room, swallowing as he pushed the door open, overcoming his misgivings of entering a lady’s chamber.

“Sebastian?” Dorothea’s voice trembled.

It pained him to hear her sound so miserable.

“Is that you?”

“What happened?”

“Somebody broke in through the balcony. I think I chased him away.”

Sebastian rushed through the room. He noticed with a frown that the door leading to the balcony was still open, letting cold air in. He stepped outside and scanned the horizon, searching for the burglar. An overcast sky obscured the view, and he saw no one.

With reluctance he returned inside. Dorothea lit a candle, illuminating the room. Which was messy. Very messy. The chair of her dressing table was overturned, and her makeup was scattered over the room. He bent down to pick up the rouges and powders.

“I’m afraid the burglar collided with the dressing table.”

“He also seemed to have collided with a vase,” Sebastian said, eyeing the coral and jade shards of porcelain amply spread about the room.

“No, I—I threw that at him. And then he walked into the dressing table.” Dorothea laughed weakly.

Sebastian’s heart sank. His fiancée should not be defending herself against criminals. It was only luck that she had managed to be triumphant. He had heard the noises. He should have prevented the intruder. He would have been able to prevent it had he not been overwhelmed by his own lustful thoughts that ignored all logical reasoning.

“We must marry soon.”

“Oh?” Dorothea tilted her head as she gazed at him. “Are you implying we will be one of those scandalous couples who share rooms?”

Sebastian grimaced. “I will do what it takes to protect you. I fear I have been woefully negligent in my duties until now.”

“You have had no duties at all.”

“Exactly. I do not want harm to fall upon you.”

Dorothea smiled. “That is very kind of you, though I do not consider you to have been in any form negligent.”

“That may be so,” Sebastian said. He knew in his heart he had failed her. “Perhaps we should have the wedding earlier than planned.”

Dorothea raised her eyebrows and smiled. “That would please me very much, Your Grace.”

Somebody knocked on the door. “Miss Carlisle! Miss Carlisle! Are you fine?”

“I am quite in order,” Dorothea said. “You may come in, Crowley.”

Crowley rushed into the room, wringing his hands.

“I heard such a commotion. I thought it came from your room . . .” His eyes grew wider as he examined the disheveled appearance of the room, finally settling on Sebastian, who shifted under the increasingly accusatory eyes of his employee.

“I did not realize this was a private matter,” Crowley said.

“It is not,” Dorothea said. “My room was invaded through the balcony, and the duke was kind enough to look after me.”

“How noble,” Crowley said, narrowing his eyes at Sebastian.

Heat rushed to Sebastian’s face.

“The new duke is very chivalrous,” Dorothea said. “Why, he has just now vowed to hold the wedding earlier.”

“But now I should go.” Sebastian bowed, conscious of Crowley’s eyes on him. “Please call me if the intruder returns.”

“Would you like me to get one of the maids to make up a new room for you?” Crowley asked Dorothea.

She shook her head. “I will not keep anyone else awake at this late hour. Please send someone in early in the morning. I would hate to be reminded of the intruder later on.”

Sebastian left the room, avoiding Crowley. He had been alone in her room, and it had not even occurred to him to take advantage of the situation. He would have to learn to do so later on. They would need to get married in the utmost haste: he would not leave her vulnerable to unwanted intruders, nor would he let her brother risk his career and life by paying him attention.

Sebastian’s hands shook as he pushed open the door to his room. He had done the right thing, he was confident, but he felt as if he were the one who had been attacked by the intruder.

Chapter Twenty

The pub was perfect. Dark and almost noisy enough to obscure his thoughts, which continued to relive the glorious night with Sebastian and the far worse days which followed. William settled into the faded velvet armchair, clutching his drink. His shoulders drooped. Right now, his brandy was the only thing keeping him from sliding off.

Sebastian was to marry. Tomorrow morning. Tonight was a pre-wedding party. The dowager duchess herself would be attending the festivities.

Dorothea’s admirer, the rugged man passing a note for him to give to her outside the London townhouse, had not managed to separate them. William felt a twinge of guilt that he had never passed the man’s love letter on to her. Well, he would not have his sister consorting with ruffians. The stranger would not be able to mar the wedding.

Celebration indeed. His heart panged in that same peculiar fashion that it had after his first day of war, when cannons and grenades tore some of the men he was close to apart. A dull sensation had overcome him along with the realization that the world he perceived simply did not exist.

“Cheer up, mate.”

William lifted his eyes, scowling at whomever dared speak to him. He did not like being disturbed when drinking.

“Remember me, Captain?”

He pondered the man who stood before him displaying a toothy grin. People in Southern England tended to resemble their Danish and German neighbors. The man, with his blond hair and tall build, looked no different.

“Joshua!”

William had noticed him a few times since their first chat, but they had not spoken since then. William had always rushed off to Somerset Hall at every opportunity. He had been utterly foolish. Besotted.

The man gave a small laugh, his blue eyes twinkling. “I knew you would remember.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you anywhere near me. Go home. Talk to your family. I’m happy here.” William’s voice was hoarse, and he closed his eyes, willing the man to disappear. His head ached.

Talking was too great a chore right now. He didn’t care if he was rude.

“You have a funny way of showing pleasure.” Joshua’s eyes darted from the lit fire in the stone hearth to the militiamen standing at the bar to the other men sitting at tables like William. Nobody was near them, and he pushed a chair close to William. He sat down and placed his tankard on the table. “In truth, you haven’t been easy to find, Captain. Been spending a lot of time at the great house, I hear.”

“Somerset Hall?” William shuddered, the pain in his chest returning. “I won’t spend any more time there.”

“Had an argument with one of the inhabitants, Captain?”

William brushed a hand through his hair, the strands moistened from sweat. “In a manner of speaking.”

“There, there. Drink will cure that. Or at least dampen the pain.”

William straightened, raising his chin. “I do not indulge overly.”

“No, no. Of course not. Leave that to the Prince Regent. That’s what I always say.”

William smiled. The Prince Regent displayed great talent for indulgence.

Joshua turned more serious. “I did want to see you though, sir.”

“Then you’re the only person who does.” William glumly remembered how his sister had informed him that Sebastian had requested to push forward the wedding date on his last visit to Somerset Hall. So much for their night in the gatehouse.

“Well, I recalled how you said you wanted me to tell you if I saw any strange things.”

“Have you?” William looked up, slightly bored. He rather thought he should stop spending his time worrying about Sebastian’s safety.

“I’m not sure. I think so though. I was walking in Lyngate Cove the other day with my girl. You understand how it is. I don’t see her very often.”

“I remember.”

“Yes, so she does.” Joshua smiled. “See, you go off to the great house, putting on airs, but you’re just like us. You remembered about my girl.”

“What did you want to tell me?” William asked. Joshua finally pulled his eyes away from the candle’s flame to reply.

“Saw with my own eyes.” Joshua paused, and his cheeks reddened. “I was having the urge, you know.”

William nodded, unsure if Joshua referred to the urge to bed his chit or to a still more basic, less romanticized call of nature.

“And there’s this cave by Lyngate Cove . . .”

“I’ve heard the area has many caves.” Sir Ambrose had mentioned it himself at the dinner. What had he said?
Sussex’s joys lie partly in its unsavory past.
William had thought Sir Ambrose simply meant he admired how the county traditionally battled the French. Perhaps the history of smuggling intrigued him.

“So it does. Good for smugglers in the past. They kept their booty there.”

“How exciting.”

Joshua shrugged. “Everyone must make a living.”

“But that was the past.” He did not suppose Joshua would confess to smuggling to a senior officer.

“Yes. And a good thing too. Having smugglers nearby is no life for other people. No good life, at least,” Joshua said.

So he was not a smuggler.

“And the cave?” William prompted Joshua, leaning toward him.

The young man smiled and tapped his fingers on the round table. “Well, you see. That was the interesting part. The cave didn’t seem to know it was supposed to be in the past.”

“Did you see anyone?” William glanced around the room, ascertaining that nobody else followed their conversation.

“Not somebody. But I saw some things. Open wine bottles, crates of cargo . . .”

“What sort of cargo?”

Joshua lowered his eyes. “I didn’t look. I should have.”

“No, no, that’s not your job.” The last thing William wanted was for his commander to discover him recruiting a team of spies from the soldiers who defended the Martello tower.

“I can tell you one thing,” Joshua said.

“What?”

“The wine was French.”

William rolled his eyes. No doubt he and his girlfriend had enjoyed it very much. Still, it’s country of origin was interesting. French wine had become rare.

“Where is this cave, Joshua?”

“Just to the right of Lyngate Cove.” Joshua took a lengthy sip of ale. “Do you think the cave might be run by spies?”

“Perhaps. It could be used for all manner of ill-use, including as a haven for young men and women to court in private.”

Joshua had the decency to blush.

Perhaps something strange was going on. That did not mean it had anything to do with Sir Ambrose. He sighed, pondering Joshua’s information.

“Did you notice anything else unusual?”

“In the cave?” Joshua frowned.

“Or just in general? In the area? Men with French accents? Lights flashing at night?”

Joshua shook his head. “I wouldn’t spend time there at night.”

“Of course not. I imagine the place lacks the pleasures of the town.”

“Oh, I don’t mind the country. The Downs are beautiful at all hours. The stars shining above, the white chalk cliffs gleaming . . . I used to visit the valley at night. Or at least, I never minded if I didn’t make it home before nightfall.”

Well. Joshua did seem to be a loyal Sussex man.

“But the ghost is there.”

“The ghost?” William lurched up, eyeing his companion. The man did not seem the type to care about ghosts.

“I mean, of course I don’t believe in ghosts.” Joshua squirmed. William thought he could seem more convincing. “But many people have been frightened of it.”

“Indeed?”

Joshua leaned closer to William, his eyes glistening. “Apparently he wanders the lanes on a white horse. Like one of the grays the devil himself rode.”

“Is it the devil?” William asked mischievously. He felt much better now.