A Kiss of Lies (13 page)

The two men were interrupted by a loud but feminine cough behind them. Both men swung around and took in Sarah standing tall and proud, holding Lily’s hand.

Sebastian let out a low whistle. “I see you have more news to tell me.” His eyes began sweeping over Sarah’s luscious figure, taking in her pert breasts and the slender waist that flared to hips that were made to welcome and cradle a man between her thighs.

Then, instantly, Sebastian’s demeanor changed. He stepped forward and bowed low
before Sarah. “Forgive me, madam. May I present myself? The Marquis of Coldhurst, at your service.” He took Sarah’s hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

Christian’s fists clenched as he watched Sarah’s hand tremble under the force of Sebastian’s looks and personality. Christian had never known any woman to be immune to Sebastian’s charms.

A flare of the green-eyed monster rose deep within him, and he only just prevented himself from stepping forward and tearing her hand out of Sebastian’s grasp. Thankfully, Sarah gently but determinedly pulled her hand free.

She dropped a curtsey. “My lord, greetings.”

Sebastian turned and gave him a questioning look. Christian cleared his throat. “May I present my ward, Lily Pearson, and her governess, Mrs. Sarah Cooper.”

“We
do
have much to catch up on,” was Sebastian’s dry reply. He stood studying Sarah, and Christian could tell she was becoming uncomfortable.

Lily broke the silence. “Why is he staring at you like that, Sarah?”

“Have we met before?” Sebastian asked Sarah, ignoring Lily’s comment.

Christian could not see Sarah’s face, which was hidden from view by her bonnet, but he noted how tension invaded her small frame.

“I very much doubt it, my lord.”

Sebastian frowned and seemed to be trying to peer under her bonnet. Finally he gave a wicked smile and said, “Obviously, wishful thinking on my part. I’m sure I would have remembered a lady of such beauty.” His voice lowered and seemed to purr in the humid air. “I’m sure I’ll remember you in the future, especially once we become better acquainted.”

Christian couldn’t see Sarah’s reaction to Sebastian’s comment, and for that he gave thanks. He already wanted to smash Sebastian’s perfect white teeth down his throat.

Sebastian clapped him on the back. “I’m pleased I leased the villa, Roaring Pavilions, since you have company traveling with you. There is plenty of room. It’s located in Sugarloaf Bay; it’s a few miles from town, but the view and setting are worth the journey.” He scratched his head. “However, I’m not sure we will fit all of us, including the luggage, in one journey.”

“Sarah”—Christian deliberately used her first name to proclaim his interest, and also to perhaps mislead Sebastian as to his true relationship with Sarah—“why don’t you organize for your and Lily’s luggage to be loaded, and take the carriage to the villa? It can come back for us
later. Sebastian and I have some catching up to do.”

He did not look at his friend as he spoke, but he could almost feel Sebastian’s grin and knowing wink.

“Of course, my lord, as you wish. Come along, Lily.”

Lily ignored her outstretched hand and stayed in the same spot, even though Sarah had already turned to go below. She looked at Sebastian. “Can we swim? Is the villa near the sea?”

Sebastian smiled down at her. “The villa has two private coves with the whitest sand and bluest water. Tell Margarita I said she’s to show you the way.”

Lily let out a delighted squeal and couldn’t stand still in her excitement. “I’d never seen the sea until this voyage. And I’ve never swum in the sea. We had the river and lake in York, but not the sea. The water was always too cold to swim in.”

“The sea here is like a warm bath. You could swim in it all day if you wished.”

She beamed up at Sebastian for a moment before grabbing Sarah’s hand and pulling her toward the hatch. “Hurry, Sarah. It’s so hot I want to get to the villa in time for a swim.”

The men stood watching the pair until they disappeared below.

“Gosh, where did you manage to find such a beauty?”

“I assume you are talking about Mrs. Cooper—the respectable, widowed Mrs. Cooper, who happens to be in my employ.” His tone made it obvious to Sebastian how he would feel about anyone dallying with his employee, not that that was likely to stop a man of Sebastian’s appetites.

“And here I thought you were warning me off because she was your mistress,” Sebastian chuckled.

Christian turned on his heel and made to disembark. He called over his shoulder, “I need a drink.”

Within a few minutes they were ensconced in one of Kingston’s taverns. It was a few streets back from the sea and attracted a more genteel clientele. There were no drunken sailors, at least the majority of patrons didn’t stink, and the serving wenches were clean and pretty. No wonder Sebastian knew of its existence.

They settled into a corner table with tumblers of ale, ensuring that no one could overhear their conversation. Christian scrutinized his fellow Libertine Scholar, wondering what he was doing in Jamaica. The overt, forced merriment did not match the strain he noted on his friend’s
face. He looked his immaculate self as usual, with not a crease in his expensive clothing and his hair elegantly combed back off his face. But he looked as if he’d lost weight, and no matter how relaxed he tried to appear, tension was emanating from his large frame.

“So, you are Lily Pearson’s guardian. How did that come about?”

Christian knew where this conversation was heading—Sarah. He didn’t want to discuss her, especially not with Sebastian. “Do we really have to talk about Lily first? I’m desperate for news from England.” He’d leave asking what was troubling his friend until they’d had a few drinks. It was obvious Sebastian was trying to disguise just how much trouble he was in.

Sebastian took a long gulp of his ale and leaned back with a sigh, tilting the chair onto its rear legs. “There is not much to tell. I’ve been gone from England for over a month. When I left, Grayson was working diligently on your behalf.”

“And …?”

“Grayson’s wondering why you haven’t sailed home sooner to demand that this litany of lies be revoked. The Duke has kept it quiet, of course, but he’s determined to bankrupt you in your absence. Questions and rumors about your disappearance are rife.”

Christian hung his head and studied his tumbler. Inwardly he flinched, but he allowed none of the rioting emotions consuming him to escape from his calm façade. What could he say to that? He hadn’t sailed for home immediately for two reasons. To begin with, he’d had no funds, and two, he couldn’t remember if he’d done what he’d been accused of or not.

All his life he’d worried that he would become his father—evil, vicious, a bully. He could still remember, as a young boy, watching his father rape one of the maids, who’d been little more than a child herself. His father had no idea Christian was hiding in the linen closet, mere inches from where his father had the hapless girl pinned against the shelves. Christian had not really understood what was happening, but had been terrified by the girl’s muffled screams and the violence emanating from his father.

He could see the servant’s face and he watched the horror, pain, and shock in her young eyes as his father raped her. He’d had to clap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from being sick.

He could still vividly remember her collapsing in a heap on the cupboard floor, sobbing when his father had finished. There was blood on the front of her dress. It wasn’t until years later that he had understood what the blood had signified.

His father had stood over her, threatening her life if she so much as told a fly. She never did, and his father kept attacking her until she had got big with child, at which point he callously dismissed her.

Sebastian interrupted his thoughts. “Lady Harriet Penfold is still insisting it was you who abducted, raped, and beat her. Grayson is continuing to discreetly search for anyone who can come forward and refute that claim.”

“I can’t understand why the task is so difficult. I wrote and told Grayson everything, how I’d left the ball on foot and walked to the Honey Pot. Someone must have seen me.” He paused. “Surely Carla verified my story.”

Sebastian shifted in his seat. His fingers drummed the table.

“Well, did Grayson find Carla, as I asked?”

“He found her.”

The relief Christian felt was palpable. “Thank God. What did she say?”

“Not much, as her throat had been slit from ear to ear.”

Christian sat back stunned. He quickly gulped down the rest of his drink. Carla had been killed—because of him.

“Whoever set you up has done a very thorough job.”

“You believe me, then? That I’m innocent?”

“Of course,” Sebastian declared. “Your body may be scarred, but you’re the same person under that puckered skin. You have the same thoroughly honorable heart and soul that adds Carla’s death to your already overburdened conscience.” Sebastian leaned forward in earnest. “It shouldn’t. You didn’t kill her. None of us ever believed you raped the Penfold girl either.”

Christian studied the grain of the table, his thoughts welling with emotion. “That’s why I didn’t return to England sooner. I couldn’t remember. I—what if I had done it? You know my father’s history. I had to be sure.”

“And are you? Sure?”

Christian nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. That’s why I’m coming home. I remember everything about the night, but I’ve had to wait because of Lily. Her parents’ tragic deaths were unforeseen. Her care is my lifelong responsibility, to repay her late father’s kindness.”

“Very noble of you, I’m sure. What I’d like to know is who’d want to destroy you. If it was your father’s reputation being destroyed, there would be hundreds of suspects, but you? Do
you even have any enemies?”

Christian’s chair suddenly became unbearably uncomfortable. “It has me completely baffled. I’ve been thinking of nothing else for months; my head hurts with the agony of it. But I don’t even have one name for the list.”

“Aren’t we the saint?” Sebastian drawled.

Christian shook his head. “Chance would be a fine thing. I was off fighting against the French for the last two years. I didn’t have the time or inclination to offend anyone.”

“It couldn’t be a woman scorned, could it?” Sebastian asked casually. “I’ve had a few run-ins with the odd vicious ex-lover. You haven’t broken anyone’s heart of late?”

Shame rather than alcohol burned at the back of Christian’s throat. How could he admit that the only women he slept with now were those he paid for?

“No. On the Continent, during the war, I had no relationships where the woman would have been expecting more. Before Waterloo, I’d just set Eloisa up in London. She kept me pretty busy—too busy to dally with any other lady. The
ton
knew marriage was the furthest thing from my mind.” Eloisa Foley was London’s most sought-after courtesan, and Christian had taken immense pride in the fact that she’d agreed to become his mistress—his exclusively. But after Waterloo, she couldn’t leave his protection quickly enough.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sorry, I don’t have any more to tell you. You’ll have to wait until you speak with Grayson upon your return. Hopefully by then he’ll have better news.”

Christian slammed his tumbler on the table. “I had been hoping you’d tell me Grayson had already sorted out the situation and I could sail home and reside quietly in Dorset, at Henslowe Court. Now I’m going to have to go to London and ascertain the truth. Why would Harriet lie? There is more to this than meets the eye.”

“At least you can fix your situation. I fear I’ll be paying for mine all my life.” The guilt in Sebastian’s voice slammed itself forcefully into him from across the table.

Christian could read it in his friend’s eyes: Sebastian was in deep trouble. “What has happened?”

“I too left England in rather a hurry.”

“Why?”

Sebastian looked at him, his face a mask of sorrow. Christian knew that whatever was
coming wasn’t good.

Sebastian slugged back more alcohol as if it would wash his past actions clean. “A duel … a duel that went horribly wrong,” Sebastian said, each word biting and clipped, as though forced between clenched teeth.

Christian looked at his friend. Just about every Libertine Scholar had been involved in a duel at one time or another, usually over women. But among most gentlemen duels were fought to draw first blood only, and were fought not to kill the opponent but to gain satisfaction.

“I don’t understand. You would never shoot to kill.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I didn’t.” He ran a hand over his eyes. “It all happened so fast. It was Baron Larkwell. I thought I’d aimed over his right shoulder, but he went down like a shot stag. The doctor informed me he was dead, and Hadley, as my second, told me to run. So I slipped out of England quietly, and I’m waiting on Hadley’s note to let me know when it may be safe, if ever, to return.”

“Christ.” Christian was left speechless. He signaled to the barmaid they both needed another drink. Finally he uttered, “I don’t believe this. What a pair we make.”

Sebastian thumped his refilled tumbler on the table. “I did not mean to kill Doogie Hennessy. You know me; I’m the best shot in England. How could I have
not
missed?” Sebastian’s voice, low and strained, spoke of his inner pain at such an act, for it was illegal to duel to the death in England, and certainly frowned upon within society. Christian knew exactly what a man’s death did to your soul, especially over something as foolish as a woman whom Sebastian would have already forgotten by now.

“This may be paradise, with the glorious weather and abundant willing females, but I can’t end my days in Jamaica. I’ve responsibilities in England. Responsibilities that include my estate and the Coldhurst riches, both of which my odious cousin is itching to get his hands on.” He gave a wan smile. “Hadley’s trying to get Prinny to issue a pardon. He’s positioning that I would never have shot to kill, and that perhaps Doogie may have deliberately stepped into the line of fire. But in my absence, I’m worried about my sisters. They are now defenseless. I can’t stay away too much longer.”