The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex) (34 page)

Grayson shook his head, smiling. “There is a woman though.”

Sebastian wondered if Grayson thought the words were supposed to comfort him.

Grayson smiled more broadly, a giddy sort of look his manservant got when someone he liked came over.

“Not a relative?” His heart froze at the prospect one of his relative’s might visit him, striving to make conversation, and pretending he had never confessed his desires. This was what he had feared. One of the things he had feared.

“Sir, why don’t you see for yourself?”

Sebastian had always heard about dedicated servants who did not intrude on their employer’s lives, but he always found his servants had a very clear opinion on his life and were not afraid to share. Grayson had even awkwardly told him about the wide variety of gentleman’s clubs to be found in York—to suit every desire.

A howl interrupted him from this line of thinking. A distinct throaty sound. A sound he recognized as his own name, emphasized: “Sebaaastiaan.”

Aunt Beatrice.

Grayson smiled, but Sebastian knew her visit was not going to be a happy one. He prepared himself for the onslaught of her abuse. However close they once were, he had disgraced his family, privately, if not publicly.

Aunt Beatrice whirled into the room, her hands fluttering with excitement. “I am so grateful to be on solid ground, Sebastian. The carriage was most unsettling.”

“Too much rocking, my dear aunt?” Sebastian asked, assuming his role of dutiful nephew. He avoided her eyes, not wanting to see any signs of change in them, any knowledge that she knew he differed from other men.

“Too many holes in the road. I do wonder about this rural region, Sebastian. Are you sure it is quite civilized?”

Sebastian sighed. “It keeps everyone out.”

“Not me.” Her eyes gleamed. “And fortunately, I had somebody to keep me company.”

She must be referring to her lady’s maid. Aunt Beatrice always went for the most dramatic explanation; she had watched far too many theatre productions in her day.

His aunt scanned the room. “You’re missing your warrior paraphernalia.”

“My warrior . . . ?” His eyes widened and then closed in understanding. “The painting?”

“Indeed. With that nice, strapping young man in the torn shirt.”

“I suppose it’s in London,” Sebastian said. The last thing he remembered was William bringing the painting into his bedroom before . . .

He closed his eyes. He really needed to stop thinking about William. Not because he denied he cared about him, loved him, but because he wasn’t sure if he could face the thought he would never see him again.

“Clearly you’ll need to replace it.”

“Aunt Beatrice!” Sebastian gasped. She couldn’t be teasing him, could she? She was far too innocent. She was his aunt.

“You must not worry. I have already brought a replacement.”

“But—”

“I know how isolated you are out here. Why your arm of the family insisted on living here when there are nicer, warmer places is beyond me.”

His aunt gestured to Grayson. “Can you bring Sebastian’s gift? You’ll know it when you see it.”

“You only bring noteworthy presents, dear aunt.”

Aunt Beatrice giggled, crinkling her eyes. “I suppose I do.” She clasped his hands in hers, looking at him gravely. “I hope you will accept the gift.”

“You do not want to bring it back with you to Sussex?”

Aunt Beatrice shook her head. “I do not. But you must choose whether or not to accept the present. If the present stills feels the same way, of course.”

“Aunt—” Sebastian paused, considering his aunt’s words. She had phrased the sentence in a very odd manner.

“Love is a very precious thing,” his aunt said.

He stared at her, hearing footsteps approach. He did not want to look. It was probably just Grayson, carrying an even larger painting of a war scene. Perhaps something with ships this time. England’s navy was growing stronger. It couldn’t possibly be—

“Sebastian?” The voice was deep and warm and familiar. Sebastian turned to the door, his heart stopping when he saw William leaning against it, his face pale. His eyes looked worried. Did William think he wouldn’t be happy to see him? William was walking toward him. He had healed from his injuries and wanted to see him. Sebastian rose.

Aunt Beatrice stood too. “Oh, my, I must supervise the luggage removal from the coach. How uncouth of me. You must forgive me.”

His aunt hastened from the room, her boots clicking on the wooden planks of the floor.

“Your aunt insisted I accompany her to visit a relative. I didn’t know it was you.” William stood stiffly.

As far as romantic declarations went, it was perhaps not the highest.

“You didn’t know you were in Yorkshire?” Sebastian stepped closer to the other man.

William smiled. “I didn’t know it was you until the carriage drove through Tunbridge Wells.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You do know that is nowhere near here?”

“Three hundred miles from here.” William edged nearer to him. “My geography is not that atrocious. Remember, I’m the one who has been on the other side of the world.”

Sebastian smiled. “You have been. And to think, you are now in my library.”

“Do you mind?” William asked. “I know you wanted to forge a more conventional life, and here I am invading your property.”

Sebastian’s heart throbbed. “I was being foolish. There is nowhere I would rather you be.”

William swallowed. “Nowhere?”

“If, of course, you do not mind,” Sebastian said, conscious of the other man’s scent. “You seem to have been kidnapped.”

William smiled. “I didn’t know we were visiting you until Tunbridge Wells because I knew we were not going to London, and I knew then we were not visiting any of her relatives in Hampshire. I hoped it was you all along.”

“Then that makes me very happy,” Sebastian said, still unsure if William intended just a friendly visit or something more.

Things became clearer when William stepped closer to him, so close their chests almost touched, and gazed into his eyes. William pulled Sebastian’s face closer to his own. His skin prickled and his heartbeat quickened. Ever so gently, William’s lips met Sebastian’s, and his knees trembled when William’s tongue greeted his own.

Sebastian shivered and clutched William’s coat. His eyes closed, unwilling to open, and he feared he had conjured William’s presence in his mind.

The wooden floorboards creaked, and startled, Sebastian jumped away. Worry washed over William’s face. But the man need not worry anymore. They would need to be discreet, but Sebastian would not let him go. “Perhaps now would be the time to show you to your chambers.”

William’s face broke into a smile.

*

Candles flickered in the dining room, bathing everyone in their warm glow. William leaned against his chair, more at ease than he had felt in a long time. Sebastian sat on one end of the table, his brow furrowed as he carved the roast. His servants had succeeded in hastily throwing a dinner together, and porcelain platters lay scattered about the table.

“What compelled you to invite Captain Carlisle here?” Sebastian asked, turning to his aunt.

“I thought he might bring you pleasure,” she said. “Does he not?”

Sebastian coughed.

“I am not so innocent.” The dowager glanced around the room and lowered her voice.” Penelope told me the events surrounding Sir Ambrose’s death. Your declaration of love and such.”

“Love?” William asked, his voice hoarse. His chest expanded and warmed, hovering on the verge of a revelation.

Sebastian’s cheeks turned pink, but he nodded and did not avert his eyes.

The dowager duchess’s eyes brightened. “I forgot, Captain Carlisle, you wouldn’t have known. You were unconscious. And then healing. From the long time it took you to get better, I thought your heart might be shattered too.”

“No longer.” William’s heart continued to flutter and soar, as if all the pieces in his life were finally coming together. “You are remarkably accepting.”

“Do you think that I do not know about men who prefer other men? And that I have not wondered about Sebastian’s own proclivities? After all my years of observing society, hosting and attending balls? I have lived through several wars and an insane king. There is little that will shock me.”

William and Sebastian smiled.

“But you cannot mean society would not judge . . .” Sebastian said.

“Oh, I do not. I assure you that society would very much judge you. They would take pleasure in doing so, and if the magistrate found out, they might feel compelled to punish you. What you do is, of course, against the law.” The dowager looked sternly at them.

“Still, I see no reason, Sebastian,” Aunt Beatrice continued, “why we cannot tell people you were so shaken up when you discovered your fiancée’s former betrothed was still alive that you have no desire to marry again. You are a widower. William, as long as you avoid going to London for the season, you should also be fine. I take it you are still planning to stay in the army?”

“Very much so,” said William. “I could not stop working. Especially when my country is at stake.”

“So you are too busy to meet women and spend your free time going hunting and fishing with your good friend, the country squire. As you get older, there will be fewer and fewer questions.” “Why, then, did you want Sebastian to marry Dorothea?” William asked.

“You may recall that Sebastian, confused man that he was, wanted to marry. I thought it would be far better to give him to a woman who needed his money—do not deny it, she did—than to spring him on some idealistic virgin.”

“So we have no reason to worry?” Sebastian asked.

“You need not fear me. That said, you should not disclose your arrangement to anyone else. It is better for them to know less.”

Sebastian and William thanked Aunt Beatrice.

After dinner William followed Sebastian to his chamber, stepping over maple floorboards and oriental carpets. William pulled Sebastian toward him and kissed his head. “You have a wonderful family.”

Sebastian smiled. “You are family to me.”

William stroked his hand through Sebastian’s glistening locks with a tentative motion. “I’m still afraid I might be imagining this.”

Sebastian’s eyes saddened. “I need to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

“You were frightened.”

“I was horrible.” Sebastian clutched his hand, and William stared at him in surprise. “Aunt Beatrice was correct. I—I do care for you. You are everything to me.”

William’s heart hammered in his chest as Sebastian wrapped his arms around him and pressed his lips against his. He leaned his head against Sebastian’s, feeling the man’s warmth spread over his body, conscious he had found the companion he longed for.

Epilogue

“And when will the guests arrive?” William put his hand on the small of Sebastian’s back, and Sebastian relaxed into him.

Sebastian never got tired of that feeling. “And to think, I would never have met you if the wind had not blustered so and you had not rescued my hat.”

William pushed him against the wall of the library, kissing him, smiling as Sebastian moaned into him. He whispered, “Nobody could be as happy as I am.”

Sebastian stared at the other man, his eyes running over William’s face, at the features he knew so well. He ran his fingers through William’s hair, he ran his hands over his skin, and he kissed his mouth.

The servants were outside, lined up to greet their visitors, Lord and Lady Reynolds and the Duke and Duchess of Lansdowne, who were arriving for their annual visit to the Yorkshire Dales.

William had moved in with Sebastian cautiously at first, taking care to ruffle his bed before the chambermaid came in each morning so she would not suspect he had not spent the night there. Sebastian had banned the staff from visiting the upstairs chambers in the morning, saying that William’s wartime experiences and consequent propensity to night terrors might make it dangerous for anyone to waken him unexpectedly. Grayson was adamant in enforcing this.

At first, Sebastian was still besieged by prospective marriage matches, but he was firm about his distaste for another marriage. Who could blame him? His first wife had died suddenly, and on the eve of his wedding to his new wife, her presumed dead fiancé had appeared to claim her. The man had poor luck in women. And maybe he was right to warn the people he was a bad omen.

They were always conscious that they might give themselves away. A light in their eye when they saw each other might be enough to spark a flurry of negative gossip. Though only very few men were actually executed for sodomy, even negative rumors would tarnish their reputations and that of their relatives. Neither of them had any desire to have the scorn of the ton or their neighbors upon them.

William kept a tiny apartment in London but joined Sebastian whenever he could. There was pheasant season, deer season, and angling season. Nothing was quite so manly as traipsing around with a gun or fishing rod, and anyone could see that such pursuits were impossible in London.

In the summer, they often were house guests at the same time when visiting Dorothea and Lewis. The initial awkwardness between Dorothea and them dissipated, and they were conscious that their own unhappiness had heightened the tensions amongst themselves. Sebastian and William traveled to Somerset Hall separately, but Dorothea and Lewis always gave them connecting rooms, which they always locked.

They avoided London in the season, but made brief appearances apart to deter any gossip that they spent all their time together. In the spring, they would travel, visiting France and Italy, staying in rooms together as was common for gentlemen. They never returned to the same place, but that meant they got to see a lot.

Though their hearts ached when they saw other couples living openly together, their lives were more than they ever could have hoped for, and they were content.

Sebastian would spend the rest of his life with William. These were good times. The king may be mad, the wars might stretch on, but through it all, he would have William. He had never been so happy.