The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex) (30 page)

William bolted up. “You must not talk about him in such a manner. Sebastian has done a wonderful job with the estate.”

“No offense meant.” Lewis’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis with him.”

“We spent time together,” William mumbled, cursing to himself. The man suspected something. Well, he was correct to do so.

“Oh?” Lewis shrugged. “I didn’t know. I went to Eton.”

That didn’t surprise him. Lewis epitomized privileged even better than the children at Harrow. Still, William did not doubt that Lewis seemed devoted to Dorothea. That had to be some sort of test of true love—live in a cave for a few weeks and get beaten when visiting one’s former betrothed in her nice, dry room, and still be smitten.

The sky darkened. Perhaps William wouldn’t be able to see the headless horseman as planned.

William changed the subject. “Have you noticed strange movements outside? Flashing lights?”

“A galloping horseman without a head?”

William nodded, happy Lewis had at least heard the rumors. “I thought he might come back tonight.”

Lewis nodded, rubbing his hands. “He’ll be here soon. This is the night I’ve been waiting for. The chance to catch Sir Ambrose.”

William shivered. “You should go, Lewis. You need to see Dorothea. If, of course, you still want to marry her.”

“Of course I want to marry her. I adore her.” Lewis looked genuinely insulted.

“Then go.”

*

Sebastian dashed into his bedroom and grabbed his frock coat.

Dorothea would find an excuse for his absence, one agreeable to her. Perhaps she would claim he had developed an illness, and the guests would assume he was trying to hasten the end of the festivities in order to ravish her; perhaps they would not notice his absence at all. The Sussex aristocracy would think the wedding could not take place soon enough.

“Your Grace?” Grayson poked his silvery head into the room, his hair shining from the glow of a candle. “I heard you come in. Are you undressing already?”

Sebastian cursed, wary of any interruption. “I’m getting dressed.”

“Oh.” Grayson’s eyes wandered to the clock on Sebastian’s bedroom table, confusion evident.

“I’m going out.” Sebastian pocketed some money, unsure if he would need any. “Tell Sam to prepare the carriage.”

Grayson scampered away. A thought occurred to Sebastian, and he pulled open a drawer, took out a silver pistol, and slipped it into his frock coat pocket.

When the coach pulled up, Sebastian hesitated, casting his eyes back on the manor where figures danced, visible through the large-paned windows. If Dorothea had announced anything, the party was not disrupted.

At the front of the house, rows of carriages lined the drive, their colored family crests and golden embellishments reflecting onto the pond. Sebastian stood amid the sea of vivid color, relieved when Sam finally appeared.

He leaped into the coach, thrusting the curtains on both windows aside. William had mentioned highwaymen frequented the road to Lyngate, and Sebastian did not want to hide from any surprises.

As the coach pulled out, a huge, dark shadow, a mixture of wheels and horses, sped closer, grazing the coach, pushing Sebastian against the cushioned side. For a moment he wondered if the entire coach might topple as the horses neighed and stomped their hooves and his aunt’s tasseled pillows spilled onto the floor. Sebastian braced himself for the fall, sighing as the coach recovered from its precarious position and the horses pulled it to safety.
Thank goodness for Sam’s skills as a driver.

Shaking, Sebastian pressed his face against the glass pane. He could just make out Sir Ambrose’s on the other coach as it sped away.

“Do you want me to stop?” Sam asked, his voice drifting down from the front of the coach.

“No,” Sebastian replied, raising his voice over the sounds of the trotting horses, “carry on.”

William was his priority, he needed to find him.

The coach rattled, rounding the curves over the South Downs that led to Lyngate. A stagecoach traveled in front of them, and Sebastian heard the voices of the passengers perched on the roof. Sebastian had never ventured to Lyngate before, consumed too much in missing William to go sightseeing.

The carriage began its descent, winding down the narrow road with one side exposed to the ocean and the other overshadowed by tall trees that cast ferocious shadows across the dirt lane.

The horses snorted, straining against their collars. The hairs on Sebastian’s neck prickled. Something was not right, and again he remembered William’s mention of highwaymen.

“Slow down.” The carriage halted, and the wheels scraped against the path. The wind jostled the carriage, swaying it slightly.

A shot rang out.

Sebastian jumped, and the horses neighed. This time he gripped the carriage wall.

For a moment, everything was silent, and then screams erupted from the stagecoach. “The headless ghost!”

The pounding of hooves sounded.

“He’s disappeared into the woods, Your Grace. Shall I continue?”

“Yes, Sam.”

Sebastian shuddered as Sam coaxed the horses to continue. The ghost had made an appearance, that much was clear. Was William out searching for the ghost? Had that delayed him? Sebastian’s chest tightened, consumed with worry as they continued their journey.

That the militia had a presence in the once-remote seaside town was evident; rugged volunteers and suave officers with windswept hair swayed about the town, their unsteady steps indicating recent visits to the town’s pubs.

It was all so very masculine.

Would his presence harm William? Might William’s supervisor and fellow soldiers guess Sebastian’s affection for him? Sebastian shook his head. Many reasons existed for why he should not see William; he did not need to add more to the list. He closed his eyes, striving to recall their night in the gatehouse. William had desired their friendship to strengthen, had desired an actual relationship. His words had seemed so implausible at the time, yet now Sebastian cherished them.

They would find a way.

But first, he needed to find William. Despite Dorothea’s insistence of William’s independent nature, Sebastian doubted the man would skip his sister’s pre-marital party willingly, as uncomfortable as the occasion might be. William was honorable and cared for Dorothea too much to avoid it entirely.

Something must be keeping him. Something unpleasant. The coach swerved, winding over the narrow lane that followed the curving slope of the shoreline. Rain began to pour down, and the waves crashed against the beach, jostling the fishing boats squatting on the ocean. Sebastian didn’t know how anyone could bear to be at sea on a night like this. He hoped the coach would hurry so he could be sure William was safe in his accommodations and not outside in the blustery Sussex wind.

The coach halted, and Sebastian sent it away. Sam didn’t need to see him searching for William. He headed for the barracks.

“He’s not in, Your Grace. He hasn’t been here all day.” The housekeeper frowned, eyeing Sebastian with suspicion. He still wore his evening clothes under his coat and felt conspicuous in his black satin breeches.

“Do you know where he is?”

The housekeeper folded her arms across her chest and shook her head, her cap moving from side to side. “I don’t know what men like to do in their free time. I don’t like to think about it, no I don’t.”

“Would anyone here know?” Sebastian refused to be dismissed so easily.

“You can try the pubs. Captain Carlisle likes a drink. Over the hill.” The housekeeper jutted out her thumb before slamming the door.

Another place not charmed by aristocrats.

Sebastian quickened his pace, eager to have a destination. Stepping over puddles, he pondered her words. The William he knew did not imbibe overly. At hearing of this possible flaw, Sebastian’s heart swelled. William was not perfect; he struggled just like Sebastian. Somehow the realization made William more accessible: the captain was not simply a handsome, capable man, he could belong to Sebastian.

The host at the first pub had not heard of the Captain, but the one at the second pub placed him instantly. “Dark, tall chap with curly hair? We have many of them here. But Captain Carlisle, he comes here often. Likes to sit in that armchair there.”

The host pointed to a burgundy armchair in a corner nook, and Sebastian’s eyes misted as he imagined where William would rest his rugged fingers on the velvet cover, and where he would place his long legs. They would not fit under the table; he would have to curve them to one side. And he would have a view of the rest of the pub; the man liked being knowledgeable.

“Aye, he’s been in here quite frequently,” the host continued. “Quite gloomy.”

Sebastian felt a twinge of guilt. Their argument.

“Though he seemed more jovial today. Another man came and cheered him up. They slipped out together around midday.”

William left with another man? A man who made him smile?
That was what Sebastian was supposed to be there for. His knees buckled.

Perhaps he was too late. William had found someone else. After all, he thought Sebastian was getting married in the morning. Why should he not leave with somebody else?

How could he have been so foolish? To have let William go?

A door slammed. He sighed and asked, “Do you know who his companion was?”

“Aye, yes I do. Local man. Son of the vicar. Joshua Smutton.”

“What an unusual name.”

The host grinned. “His sister’s name is Jemima Smutton.”

Sebastian smiled, liking the warmth and companionship of the pub. He drummed his fingers against the rich mahogany counter. The scent of cedar and tobacco pervaded the room.

“Are you talking about Captain Carlisle?” A rotund man with a rosy face walked toward him. He eyed Sebastian’s clothes. “You’re not dressed for a typical night at the pub.”

“I was dressed for a typical night at the ball,” Sebastian said.

The man laughed, his head wagging. The man’s uniform made him more conspicuous than the others, a row of medals adorning his chest. The silver and gold caught the light, exuding importance. The man nodded to Sebastian. “General Hartley, Your Grace.”

“You know me?”

“It’s my business to know people. You’re engaged to marry the sister of one of my captains.”

“Well, yes,” Sebastian said, not wishing to say the engagement had been broken without Dorothea’s consent. “I suppose you might have heard.”

The general tilted his head. “Shall we go find the captain?”

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Yes.”

“That’s what you came for, isn’t it?”

Sebastian nodded. Had the general sensed his adoration of William?

“Come to break off the engagement, I imagine.” The general headed for the door of the pub. Sebastian waved good-bye to the pub host, ducking underneath the dark timber holding up the ceiling. “Don’t want to marry her, need to see her brother and closest male relative. Maybe her only relative—I don’t know him that well.”

“They have some cousins in Lancashire.”

“Ha, as if Lancashire counts. Distant cousins too, I warrant.”

“Well . . .”

“You better speak to Carlisle himself. I suspected something would go wrong with that wedding. The way he brooded over it.”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “He talked to you about it?”

“Of course not. I would not pry into his personal affairs. Perhaps civilians make a habit of that, but officers consider these to be matters of importance.” The general looked vexed. “But I saw his sulks after he received the wedding invitation. You can’t put anything past me.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, what’s wrong with the lady?”

“Nothing’s wrong with her,” Sebastian said, affronted.

“Oh, come on, something must be. I’ve seen her, she’s a pretty thing.”

Sebastian shook his head vehemently. “I would never belittle her in front of anyone.”

The general chuckled. “Well, there, there. Don’t you possess spirit. Only fooling with you, you must grant me a little pleasure in my old age. After fighting the Americans, I take any pleasure I can get.”

“That must be many years of pleasure, then.” The colonists had declared victory decades before.

The general hooted. “I dare say you’re right. Come on, let’s go to his quarters.”

“I’ve tried his quarters,” Sebastian said sheepishly.

“Indeed?” The general raised an eyebrow. “How efficient.”

Heat rose to Sebastian’s face.

“I suppose you need to be, what with the wedding ticking away.”

“There is nothing wrong with Dorothea.”

“Still doesn’t mean you want to marry her. Actually,” the general leaned closer to him, “you shouldn’t marry her. I was about to contact you myself.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened again. Had William said something? To his commanding officer? The idea was unthinkable, but he could never be sure with William.

“I’ve something to show you. Follow me.”

Sebastian hesitated. It was easy to follow somebody used to giving orders, but he wondered if this was not just a distraction to lure him away from William. Could the general be the person planning nefarious activities in the surrounding area? He was new to the region as well, and Sebastian had heard of corruption in the military before.

“Don’t you worry, nothing for you to be scared of here.”

“I wasn’t scared.”

The general fixed him with a long look. “Let’s go. I have someone I want you to meet.”

Chapter Twenty-three

The ocean darkened, and stars shone on the inky waves. Ebony fishing boats rocked on the ever more forceful waves. Perhaps some of the boats belonged to smugglers. He strained his ears for the sound of horses, carrying the supposed headless rider.

He fingered his pistol and glanced around, half expecting a plunderer to leap out at him.

He was too exposed. The wind slammed into his face, tossing his hair back. The waves lengthened, sputtering cream foam as the chalky cliffs halted their path. The flat terrain provided no shelter.

He shielded his eyes from the bracing wind and spied a hedge on the steep path down the hill. He scampered to it and slid to the earth, ignoring the dirt and grass staining his uniform. His mind turned to the party. He shut his eyes and struggled not to imagine Sebastian twirling Dorothea about the room. He resisted thoughts of how Sebastian’s golden locks likely glistened in the candlelight and how his cheeks would flush in the heated ballroom. In vain, he endeavored not to imagine the way the man’s body would feel against his own were he to steal Sebastian from the ball.