The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex) (4 page)

Reynolds smiled. “Let’s see if we can find the women. I think I spot the dowager duchess.”

Sebastian followed, slowing his pace as he neared them.

Chapter Three

Aunt Beatrice commanded her group of women. The sight was not unusual. She made animated gestures with her hands, and the group of well-dressed women regarded her intently. The family matriarch’s tiny frame exuded competence and practicality. She had succeeded in marrying off one daughter and five nieces in spectacular weddings that other mothers only dreamed of replicating.

“Sebastian!” Cousin Penelope sprang from her chair. Her mahogany ringlets bounced along with her.

His other cousins, Lily and Caroline, leaned in to exchange whispers and waved their fans. He struggled to tell them apart. Wallflowers a few years ago, they had entered the action just long enough to secure husbands. Now married, they were content to return to their positions, regarding the dance and gossip.

He bowed to his cousins and aunt, and then turned to Dorothea. The woman he would marry. For why else would she be here, sitting in the midst of his cousins, right next to his aunt?

He should have anticipated Aunt Beatrice would select his cousin’s former fiancée for him. She came from a good family, even if the scandal following her parents’ deaths had tarnished her family’s reputation somewhat. Her large eyes, high cheekbones, and rosebud lips, all framed by her thick dark hair, made her exquisite. What had made her a good match for his cousin would make her a good match for him.

Perhaps Aunt Beatrice felt sentimental toward her. She had lost her husband, just as Dorothea had lost her husband-to-be. Unlike William, Dorothea’s fiancé, Lewis, had not left the war in time. Sebastian shuddered to think what she must have endured when she learned her fiancé had died, his body mangled and unrecognizable save for his identification.

Sebastian would be happy to provide for her regardless, but marriage would be more convenient, even if marrying his dead cousin’s fiancée struck him as old-fashioned. Perhaps antiquated customs should be expected when leaving one’s marital affairs in the hands of one’s aunt.

Sebastian glanced from cousin to cousin.

“He’s speechless!” Penelope crinkled her freckled nose. Even as a married woman, she had no trouble retaining her childlike nature, to the discomfort of the other guests, who turned toward her raucous laughter in puzzlement.

Dorothea had the decency to blush at the commotion around her.

“Would you care to join me?” He bent at his waist and stretched out his arm in his very best bow.

Penelope squealed and clapped her gloved hands.

“Certainly, Your Grace.” Dorothea rose and took his hand. Her muted violet dress rustled as she moved near him. The scent of roses pervaded the air around her, as if offering an aura of an idyllic life.

“I trust my cousins amused you?”

“They were most engaging, Your Grace.”

“I don’t suppose I can tempt you to a cotillion?” Sebastian glanced to where the guests danced. He hated the thought of joining them. Women were able to hide their feet in long gowns, while any mistakes men made were on display for all to see. Would Dorothea want to dance? Her garb indicated her half-mourning status, but he wanted to give her the opportunity to enjoy herself.

Dorothea’s dark eyelashes fluttered down. “It’s still too early.”

Sebastian lowered his voice, finding himself leaning toward her ear. “You needn’t worry. I rather fancy a stroll around the ballroom, and I trust that would not shock the ton overly.”

She gave a tentative smile, and her stiff-held shoulders relaxed a fraction.

Sebastian offered his arm to her, and they started their stroll. “Tell me, have you enjoyed your time in London?”

“As much as I can. It’s a lovely city. One forgets it when one is away, remembering only that it is too hurried, too populated. Then one discovers London is also wonderful, with grand buildings and clever people and enticing shops.”

“I’m glad you find it so.”

“And how are you coping?”

“Me?” The question startled him.

Dorothea smiled. “This is new for you.”

He nodded. Few people had asked him that. He realized that Dorothea had had more time to adjust to the prospect of being a duchess than he had of being a duke.

They ambled around the room, away from his aunt and cousins, and brushed past other couples heading for the crowded dance floor. Large crystal chandeliers dangled above, reflecting their images in miniature a thousandfold. The musicians played charmingly, exemplifying the superb job Aunt Beatrice did of putting the ball together.

Sebastian turned to his companion, who seemed focused on the throngs surrounding them. Her gaze was intelligent, and he smiled at her absorption. Something about the way her nose curved reminded him of William. His breath caught in his chest at the memory of their meeting.

He led her to the beverage table. A crowd swarmed around the drinks. Vivid carmine, isabella, and orange liquids shone out of silver punch bowls. The men and women paused as Sebastian and Dorothea neared. He forced his shoulders to relax, not desiring Dorothea to know his discomfit.

He cursed his title. Everything he did, even gathering punch, was imbued with undue importance.

Some of the eyes narrowed, and Dorothea tensed beside him. With a jolt, he realized the ton was focused on her instead. He frowned, unsure what had spurred their attention.

“Negus or punch à la romaine?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

“You needn’t . . .”

She frowned, and he followed her gaze to a group of women. Their ages varied, but their sense of importance and corresponding sumptuous jewelry did not.

“I want to.” His voice came out hoarsely. He stepped toward the table and poured negus into two punch glasses.

“Your Grace, allow me.” A gloved hand, embellished by a complex design of rosettes, stretched before him and picked up one of the glasses.

He lifted his eyes and recognized the immaculately dressed woman before him. “Lady Arabella.”

She smiled and handed him the glass. Their fingers touched as she gave it to him, and he flinched with a cold sense of dread. He looked down, startled to find that her gown clung to her body, as if dampened. Her bosom curved before him, emphasized by her high waistline and the tightness of her dress. She coughed and arched her eyebrow.

“Did I see you chasing your top hat outside?”

He froze. Clearly
nothing
had eluded her.

She leaned toward him, revealing more of her cleavage. “It will be our secret.”

“I saved it. I mean . . .” He paused. Now was not the time to go into how the army captain had rescued it for him. He glanced back, expecting to see Dorothea’s pale face, but found the space between them had already filled with onlookers.

“You rescued it?” Lady Arabella laughed again. “How heroic of you.”

“No, no. It was not my heroism.”

Her eyebrow lifted again, controlled, and she murmured, “You are too modest.”

He dropped his gaze and picked up the second glass. The drink was warm to his touch, and he inhaled the smell of wine, lemon, and nutmeg.

“For me?”

He swung his gaze back to Lady Arabella.

She smirked. “You mustn’t look so horrified at the prospect. I saw you approach with Miss Carlisle.”

“Oh.” He relaxed his shoulders and composed his face, irritated she had read him so easily.

“There’s a rumor that you intend to marry her.”

His gaze darted up.

“Of course, I wouldn’t believe it. You are too sensible. Even though I cannot understand how you allow her and her brother to live in that townhouse.” She tossed her head.

For a moment, Sebastian thought the violent gesture might disturb her elaborate coiffure, but her hair remained intact. Evidently her lady’s maid was talented.

Her gown swished as she moved nearer him. “Miss Carlisle is charming. But she was far too close to her ex-fiancé. There are rumors about her. It is my duty to warn you since we have always been such friends. I hope we may remain close.”

He blinked. “Rumors?”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want a bride who had been spoiled. You deserve the very best. Somebody with more discretion and patience.”

“I see.”

And he did see. Though if Dorothea were spoiled, then it was only because his cousin had not lived to marry her. He could not fault her that. Restraint with women came easily to him, but he knew other men did not possess that quality. He would not be surprised if Reynolds and Burgess had acted without caution during their engagements.

“I would never want to interfere.” Lady Arabella’s eyelashes fluttered as she gazed at him.

He nodded, conscious that her ladyship would never have looked at him like that when he was still a country squire. “Only your sense of duty compels you to tell me this.”

“Indeed.”

He pondered her words, still taken aback. But then Lady Arabella was not known to be shy. Unlike other debutantes in her season, Sebastian knew she had refrained from seeking a husband at once, doubtless comforted by the scale of her father’s fortune. She now reigned over the season. Her unmarried status, experience, and relative youth would yield her an even bigger prize.

Lady Arabella smiled. “I see we understand ourselves perfectly.”

“Indeed.” Sebastian returned a tight smile. His voice deepened as he said, “But I hope I can trust you not to spread any further rumors about Miss Carlisle.”

Lady Arabella’s hand rushed to her chest. “Naturally, Your Grace. I am the picture of discretion.”

The corner of his lips rose at her indignant gesture. He bowed, careful not to spill his drinks, and returned to Dorothea. His heart hammered, outraged on her behalf. She needed the marriage. More than he did. He considered whether that upset him, but the prospect of helping somebody through the marriage appealed to him.

“Dorothea!”

They turned to the voice. William strode toward them, his long legs carrying him swiftly. His eyebrows rose when he noticed Sebastian, and he beamed. “How remarkable. You’ve met already.”

“You know each other?” Dorothea looked at William and Sebastian.

“He rescued my hat.” Sebastian smiled at the memory of their meeting under the stars. He was happy to meet the captain again.

William laughed. “He wasn’t nearly as appreciative then. I seem to remember him telling me to go away.”

“I’ve reformed since then.”

William’s eyes sparkled, rivaling the chandeliers, and Sebastian tore his eyes away from them with reluctance. He would be happy gazing at him for much longer.

“I see my sister has already worked her good influence,” William continued. “How did you two meet?”

“Your sister?” Sebastian’s chest clenched. He turned to Dorothea and frowned. He turned back to William.

They resembled each other.
Of course.
He knew Dorothea had a brother who had moved in with her recently. “When you spoke of your sister, I didn’t realize she was Lewis’s Dorothea. I suppose it is a fairly common name, though . . .” Sebastian stammered then added quickly, “a very beautiful one.” He was in no rush to insult his future wife.

William blinked, and his gaze clouded.

“You were not at their engagement party,” Sebastian said. “I would have remembered you.”

“You knew Lewis?”

“He is—was—my cousin.”

Shock flashed across William’s face, and his jaw tightened. “You are not—?”

“He’s a duke, William,” his sister said softly. “The Duke of Lansdowne.”

William stiffened. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I was not aware.”

Sebastian flinched upon hearing William use the term “Your Grace.” The formal honorific seemed to distance them even further, as if William were seeking to stomp out any memory of their evening together.

“I should have realized,” William continued. “I am not up on my knowledge of Sussex aristocrats.”

Dorothea frowned at him. “The duke has been exceedingly kind. We are living in his house.”

“One of my homes,” Sebastian hastened to say. “It was no trouble at all. Lewis would have wanted it.”

A muscle tensed on William’s temple. “Yes. I—we—are most grateful for everything. Forgive me if I spoke flippantly before.”

Sebastian’s chest twinged. The easy conversation between them had shattered with the revelation of his new, higher status.

William gazed between Dorothea and Sebastian. He opened his mouth, finally saying, “Is my sister the lady whom you mentioned earlier?”

“She is indeed.” The warmth of a blush ascended Sebastian’s cheeks, and he shifted awkwardly.

“Oh.” William looked down.

Sebastian sighed, deflated. William did not seem delighted at the prospect of a marriage between himself and Dorothea. Perhaps William had found him tiresome at the tavern and desired somebody else in the family. The captain had seemed eager to leave it.

“How wonderful you should already know each other.” Dorothea smiled tentatively at the two of them, or as much, Sebastian supposed, as a woman could smile when in the presence of her brother and a man whom she might marry.

“Indeed.” William flashed a smile, his lips tight.

“I shall leave you two in peace.”

Sebastian blinked as William sauntered off. His eyes lingered on the man’s form.

He turned to Dorothea, conscious he should be delighted to be in the presence of such a splendid woman knowing a real possibility existed that he would devote the rest of his life to her. He just wondered why the coloring that Dorothea and William shared seemed to suit William so much better. Why the mannerisms they shared seemed to be that much more amusing on William.

Shaking his head, Sebastian forced himself to dismiss thoughts of William from his mind. The man was to be his brother-in-law. Still, after Sebastian returned Dorothea to his relatives, he wandered through the crowd, hoping to catch a further glimpse of William. Perhaps they might continue their conversation. Neither of them was from London, and though he would not describe himself as being comfortable with William, he felt more himself in William’s company, as if the man really saw him.