To Wed The Widow (22 page)

Sebastian guessed he could have gone to the club, tried to find his brother there.

He hadn’t bothered.

When the widow’s man servant opened the door, Sebastian said, “My brother is here. Tell him the earl needs him posthaste.”

Her servant was well trained at least, and merely nodded and escorted him to the drawing room before shutting the door behind him.

The earl sat, figuring his brother wouldn’t rush down no matter the message.

When the door opened ten minutes later, it wasn’t George.

Lady Haywood said, “He says he’s not coming down.”

“Go back up and tell him there is a situation at one of my estates. We will leave as soon as he has packed.”

She sat, and Sebastian wondered when his authority had become useless. Flora, George, the widow. No one listened to him.

“You will have to do better than that, my lord. A situation with tenants, sheep? A few details will help sell the story.”

“I’m an earl. I don’t have to
sell
a story.”

“You’re not an earl to George. You’re his brother.”

Sebastian blew out a breath. “Go get him, Lady Haywood. Or I will get him myself.”

She shook her head as if disappointed in him and that only enraged him further.

He stared into her soul and growled, “I could destroy you.”

He should have known she didn’t have a soul because all she did was blink and cock her head at him. Then she smiled.

“I think someone in your position could.”

“But not me?”

She shook her head in answer.

His nostrils flared and he thought by gad he would destroy her. Would wipe that satisfied smile off her face if it was the last thing he did.

She said, “You are too much like your brother.”

The door opened again and Sebastian turned to glare at the brother he was nothing like but it was only a servant with the tea tray.

When the woman finally left, he said, “And just how am I like him? I assure you I am not so gullible that I can be taken in by a pretty face and blond hair.”

Lady Haywood poured and stirred and handed him a cup. “Do you really think him gullible? And isn’t it so interesting that those closest to us are the ones who know us the least.”

“I know you, Lady Haywood.”

“Perhaps. And perhaps you do see me clearer than George, at least. But I see you just as clearly, and like him, you are a good man. You wouldn’t destroy someone who didn’t deserve it.”

He laughed and surprised himself. “I don’t think that argument will sway me. A widow aiming for her sixth husband with my brother.”

She cleared her throat. “Husbands are overrated.”

“You would know.”

“Yes, I would. And I assure you they are as inconvenient and irritating as they appear to be. And while I can guess that you won’t believe me, I’m not. . .I am not looking for a sixth.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you.”

She nodded and sipped. And said nothing more.

They sat in silence until their cups were empty and then she set hers down gently and rose.

She studied him, then shook her head.

“Really, my lord, you will only make him more set upon this course than he already is. Because he is not gullible, or stupid, or happy being led where others want him to go. He came back all the way from India not because you told him to, but because you needed him. He would do anything for those he loves.”

“Do not make the mistake that this infatuation with you is love. That he would sacrifice for you like he would and should for his family.”

She whispered, “Don’t make the mistake that he doesn’t. That he cares one jot that I am the widow or who my relations are or whether I can give him an heir.”

Sebastian all but jumped from his chair. “You do not know him!”

She stood her ground. “He is an open book. I suggest you take the next opportunity to look. At your countess, too, although she is not nearly so easy to see through.”

A red rage filled his vision and he balled his fists. George had always been a mystery to Sebastian but he’d thought he’d known who his wife was. Having the widow confirm that he didn’t made him want to smash everything in this room, the blasted woman included.

And then she was across the room, her hand on the knob and saying, “I will send George down. Perhaps you can have a realistic emergency manufactured by the time he’s ready.”

“
Stay away from the countess
.”

She stopped, not turning around.

“She loves you, you know?”

“How do
you
know?”

“I’m her friend.”

“No. You don’t have friends. You have victims and marks.”

She laughed, still facing the door. “You must have known my father.”

“Knew him and didn’t like him.”

She nodded. “No one did. He didn’t care.”

“The apple does not fall far from the tree.”

“I agree it is a worrisome thought. Not many do like me, and I don’t care too much about it. Still, I do hope that I am not like him.”

She opened the door and was halfway through it when she paused. “You won’t ask for my advice, won’t welcome when I give it to you.”

How
dare
she. Give advice to an earl of the realm?

Sebastian growled, “Go get my brother.”

“Go home and hug her. Don’t say a word. Just hold her and listen to her. She wants you to know who she is, but you need to be quiet and let her tell you.”

Sebastian didn’t say a word and she smiled. “Yes, just like that. It is so difficult for men to listen when a woman talks, to hear the meaning behind the words. I assure you, there is always a meaning.”

“
Stay away from her
.
Stay away from George
.”

“You underestimate your brother. I have given up all hope of trying to stay away from him,” she said and Sebastian jerked. Remembered Flora saying the same thing about George.

What did they see that he did not?

“Make yourself comfortable, my lord. George will be down. . .eventually.”

George sat on the other side of the coach, his arms folded tight. He didn’t look at Sebastian, didn’t say a word.

Sebastian closed his eyes and sighed at the silence.

It had been four hours and George hadn’t said one word. Not when he’d come into the widow’s drawing room and given Sebastian a long look. He’d only turned back around and gone out the front door.

Hadn’t said anything to Sebastian while he’d directed his valet on what to pack.

Not a word through the streets of London. Nothing even when the town began to turn to fields.

Sebastian broke first, all the while thinking George’s years in India
had
changed him somehow.

“You are my heir. It is not inconceivable that I need you to accompany me when there are problems on an estate.”

George grunted. Sebastian kept his eyes closed.

Another mile later. “You are acting like a child.”

“I am being treated like one.”

Sebastian opened his eyes but George was still looking out the window.

“You are being treated like a man whose brain has lodged permanently in his bollocks.”

“You don’t think I can tell the difference between lust and love?”

Sebastian’s reply got caught in his throat and he expelled it forcefully. “How can you possibly be in love with that woman–”

“Lady Haywood. Or Elinor.”

“I will not call that–” George turned his head, a slow controlled motion, and Sebastian stopped.

He lowered his voice to a conversational tone. “She is conniving. A gold-digger. Has reached far above her station.”

“The same could be said for a few of our forebears. I expect her children’s children will conveniently forget just as well as we have.”

Sebastian leaned forward. “She doesn’t love you in return. All a woman like her can see is what you can do for her.”

“Then why did she refuse me?”

Sebastian had nothing to say, nothing even to think past blank horror.

George said, “I’ve already asked her. She said no.”

“It must not have been a very forceful no since you are still welcome in her bed.”

“She’s trying to save me from myself. It’s very tiresome. And not at all the actions of a conniving gold-digger.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to refute and George interrupted him. “Although I’m sure you can think of some way this works to her benefit.”

Sebastian closed his mouth. He could think of something and George wouldn’t believe it, no matter what it was.

George looked out the window and grimaced at the bucolic view. “Sheep. I simply can not imagine why men get old and gray in this country.”

“Men get old and gray in every country.”

George let out a long, sad sigh. “Yes.”

“It’s inevitable.”

“Some things are.”

“You’re not going to listen to me, are you? Not going to listen to St. Clair. Not going to listen to reason and duty. Just going to do what you want no matter what. No matter who it hurts and disappoints.”

George continued to look out the window. “Some things are inevitable.”

Sheep.

George hated sheep. He left the sheep and land to Sebastian once they arrived at the
troubled
estate.

Tenants.

George had to admit he was good with tenants. Much better than his brother, who wanted the facts without the pesky emotions. Who cared little for squabbles between people who’d known each other their whole lives and whose history was more important than facts. People who had to live and work together in the future.

There were a surprising number of issues between tenants. Between men forced to work too closely together. Between men who interrupted the quiet boredom of the country with the distraction of another man’s wife.

George set up shop at the village inn and listened to complaints.

He kept the beer flowing freely.

He refereed a few good boxing matches, giving an opportunity for all whose pride had been stung to work it out.

He visited cottages and listened to women chat about their neighbors. He brought small sweet cakes for the children and noted buildings that needed improving.

And in the evenings, he and Sebastian sat down to dinner.

George listened about sheep and tried to stay awake. Sebastian listened about emotional turmoil and tried to stay interested.

There was no emergency for them to take care of, but then George had always known it was a ruse to get him away from Elinor. Distance, when all distance did was make him wish she was there with him. Hating the sheep, and the mud, together.

Wishing she was there to speak with the women and let them air grievances with their own version of beer and fisticuffs.

Ten days after they arrived, George sat down to dinner and told Sebastian his work was done. Peace had been restored.

Sebastian cut into a piece of mutton. “You’re very good with people.”

“And you with sheep. You may take that as a compliment.”

“I have quite a few estates that could be improved by your skills.”

“I do not doubt that every estate could use an invigorating visit from the earl and his brother.”

Sebastian smiled. “I would like that.”

“So would I. After a recuperative stay in town. I can only take so much beer.”

Sebastian stopped smiling.

George said, “And I know you would like to visit with Flora and the girls.”

Sebastian nodded. “And I am sure Miss Westin has been missing you.”

George put down his knife. He looked at his brother, almost wishing. . .

George smiled and stood. “I need to show you something.”

“Right now, in the middle of dinner?”

George laughed. “Yes. We have a date at the inn.”

When George stepped inside the tap room, he was met with hearty hales and cheerful greetings. When the earl followed him inside, the room quieted in an instant.

George headed for the bar. “Two beers. And a round for everyone.”

No cheers greeted this statement. The men continued to look at the earl, to watch as George held a tankard out to him. Everyone watched until Sebastian took it and sipped.

George took a healthy gulp of his own and said to the room, “We’ve come for fisticuffs. And beer. Lots and lots of beer.”