A Wedding Wager (18 page)

“Believe me, that’s not going to happen.” He shook his head vigorously. “Utter nonsense, Serena.”

“Only listen, Sebastian.” She reached forward, putting her hand on his thigh. “All I’m asking is that you just show a little interest in her, just enough to give them cause to hold the general at arm’s length. I’m convinced that the parents are entertaining the possibility of my stepfather’s suit simply because he’s the best offer at the moment. If there’s a rival and a much more suitable suitor on the horizon, they’ll drop the general like a hot brick.”

“And where will that leave me?” He took her hand and put it firmly back in her lap. “You’ll not get around me that way, Serena. I ask again, where will that leave me?”

“Well, there, I admit, is the one small flaw in my otherwise flawless plan.” She frowned into her glass, wondering how best to approach the ticklish issue.

“Go on,” Sebastian prompted in a rather direful tone.

“Well, obviously, you cannot offer for Abigail, you can only lead her on, and—”

“What?” Sebastian exploded. “What kind of coxcomb will that make me? Serena, I give you fair warning, you say another word in this vein at your peril.”

She shook her head, half laughing. “No … no, Sebastian, only hear me out. Of course, I wouldn’t want you to behave badly. But if you could just allow Mrs. Sutton at least to have hopes that you might come up to the mark, then she won’t be in a hurry to encourage my stepfather’s suit. Abigail is a simple soul. She’ll enjoy a harmless flirtation, and in the meantime, we’ll hope she falls desperately in love with someone utterly suitable and everyone will live happily ever after.” She regarded him with a cajoling smile.

It was a wasted smile. Sebastian looked both horrified and wrathful. “No.”

She wrinkled her nose, an unconscious gesture that Sebastian had seen in his dreams every night of the last three years. “I will undertake to find her a suitable match if you’ll just buy me some time,” she pleaded. “And just think … it is the perfect scheme. Her parents think of me as a kind of respectable elder sister for Abigail, and they’ll be delighted to have me act as her chaperone if you take her driving, or riding, or walking. Think how much time that would give us together.”

Sebastian stared at her in wonderment for a long moment, then he threw back his head and laughed, great gusts of pure enjoyment. “Oh, Serena … Serena …”
he managed to gasp at last. “I had completely forgotten your predilection for concocting the most harebrained schemes. But I have to tell you, my sweet, this one takes the cocked hat.”

“Well, I’m glad you approve.” Serena was not in the least discomposed by his laughter. “And we should begin first thing tomorrow. You will pay a call in Bruton Street, ostensibly to inquire after the health of Miss Sutton after her ordeal, and I shall just happen to bump into you on the doorstep. We will go in together, and I’ll protect you from any predation from Mama Sutton, I promise.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I will go along with this crackpot scheme just until I decide it’s getting out of hand. And you may be sure, sweetheart, that I will decide that long before Miss Abigail feels the slightest serious
tendre
for me.”

That was probably as good as she was going to get, Serena reflected. The long case clock in the hall struck six, and she sighed. “I must go. I need to make sure the rooms are ready for tonight and there are no kitchen dramas to sort out.”

“Do you ever take a night off from the tables?” Sebastian asked as he rose with her.

“Sometimes … if the general thinks that accepting another invitation will improve business in the long run, he’ll open only the small private salon. He can manage that alone, while I go and play my part at some dinner
table … ballroom … rout party.” She shrugged. “I play many roles, Sebastian.”

He said nothing. He could feel the anger curling tight in his belly. It wasn’t fair to direct it at Serena, and yet her acceptance of the situation, so easy and unquestioning, it seemed to him, made him want to shake her. He felt as if she were moving through the travesty of her life as if through a dream, as if it didn’t,
couldn’t,
touch her. As if she could preserve a purity of spirit, of intention, even as she obeyed the dictates of a dissolute. But she couldn’t. If she continued like this, she would end up as devoid of a moral compass as her damnable stepfather.

“Why don’t you just leave him?” he demanded, his voice harsh. “For God’s sake, Serena, walk away. You’re not a minor child; he has no legal authority over you. Any other life has to be better than the one you live now.”

She looked at him with a flash of scorn in her violet eyes. “Are you really such a child, Sebastian? A naïve, dreaming child who truly believes the world is a decent place?” She moved past him to the door. “When you’ve seen as much of it as I have, you’ll understand why what for you is a simple solution for me is an impossible one at the moment.” She reached for her cloak in the hall.

Sebastian came up behind her, snatching it off the hook. Resentment mingled with his anger now, resentment that she should dismiss him so lightly, in such patronizing terms. “Maybe you’re right about one thing,”
he said, his mouth taut. “Maybe I don’t understand what you understand, but it’s not because I have not seen what you have seen. It’s because I don’t understand your passive acceptance of an intolerable situation. But I won’t presume to argue the toss with you.” He draped the cloak around her shoulders before calling for Bart.

“Fetch a hackney,” he instructed the boy curtly as he handed Serena her hat and gloves.

Her expression was closed as she asked without expression, “So, will I see you tomorrow?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted to say,
I don’t want to see you again until you understand my point of view.
But he knew absolutely that if he said that, she would go, and he would never see her again. And he couldn’t face that, not after finding her again.

“Very well,” he said coldly. “I will pay a call in Bruton Street tomorrow. What time will suit you, ma’am?”

“Eleven o’clock.” She drew on her gloves, awash with unhappy frustration. She didn’t want to part like this, this angry chasm between them, but she didn’t know how to bridge it. Not now, at least. She felt too raw. She looked at him, hesitating, trying to find words.

Sebastian suddenly took her hands, enclosed them tightly in his own. “Come now, Serena, we can do better than this. We
must
do better than this.”

Her attempt at a smile was tentative, but she leaned into him, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I am so sorry, Sebastian. I feel so … so jangly, as if no part
of me is in harmony with another, when we have these conversations.”

“I would hardly dignify them as such,” he said with a dry smile. “But I would not have you
jangly
for all the world.” He drew her against him, pushing up her chin with his palm. “Would it restore a degree of harmony if I kissed you?”

She smiled, and this time, there was nothing tentative about it. “Yes, please.”

He kissed her for a long time, ignoring Bart, who stood in the open doorway, his eyes wide as saucers, the words stopped on his lips. When Sebastian raised his head and brushed a kiss on Serena’s brow, Bart blurted, “If you please, sir, the carriage is outside. As you ordered, sir.”

Sebastian exchanged a startled glance with Serena. They had both forgotten the lad. Then he said hastily, “Thank you, Bart. Ma’am, may I escort you to your carriage?” He offered his arm.

Serena was suddenly taken by an irresistible fit of the giggles. Struggling with her laughter, she tucked her hand in the crook of Sebastian’s elbow with a mock-dignified “Thank you, sir,” and allowed him to usher her to the street and into the dark confines of the coach.

“Oh, the poor child,” she said with a smothered chuckle. “Perhaps you should sit him down and tell him the facts of life.”

“What a revolting idea,” Sebastian declared. “I daresay
he could teach me one or two. I’ll see you in Bruton Street at eleven tomorrow.” He closed the carriage door firmly and stood back as the vehicle creaked off down the street.

A cold wind gusted sharply from around the corner, and he returned to the house, heading for the drawing-room fire and the claret bottle. He heard the front door open and Peregrine’s cheery “Halloo, anyone at home?”

“In here,” Sebastian called back.

Perry came in, glancing quickly around, taking in the two glasses, the plates, and the remnants of the feast. “Visitors?” he inquired.

“Of a kind,” his twin said.

Peregrine looked at him closely. “Now, that sounds intriguing.” He picked up the half-empty wine bottle and whistled softly. “A visitor worthy of the Nuit St. Georges, no less. Who could that be, I wonder?”

Sebastian chose for the moment to ignore both the question and his twin’s significant glance. He gestured with his glass to the bottle in Perry’s hands. “It’s a fine Bordeaux. I’m wondering how it got into our cellar. I certainly don’t remember acquiring it.”

Peregrine set the bottle down. “Jasper sent us a case from the Blackwater cellars, don’t you remember? He said it was time it was drunk, and he wasn’t going to leave it at the manor for our greedy uncles to gorge upon.”

“Oh, yes, I remember now.” Sebastian nodded. “So, what have you been up to?”

“Why do I get the impression you’re trying to distract me from your activities this afternoon?” Peregrine mused. He picked up Serena’s empty glass, holding it to the light. “At least, assure me that whoever was drinking from this glass was in the peak of health. I’ve a mind to borrow it.”

“You’ll be quite safe,” Sebastian said with a careless wave of his hand.

“Well, I, for one, had a very pleasant afternoon.” Peregrine filled Serena’s empty glass and sat down at his ease in front of the fire. “I take it you did, too.” He sipped wine, eyebrows raised in question.

Sebastian gave in. “As it happens, Serena was here.”

“Oh? Really?” Peregrine’s amused expression died. “By invitation, Seb?”

“How else?” Sebastian leaned forward to refill his glass. “I needed to clarify matters. There’s too much water under the bridge, Perry, to be ignored.”

Peregrine nodded slowly. He was uneasy and couldn’t quite explain why. Every rational part of his brain screamed that for Sebastian to entangle himself anew with Lady Serena Carmichael was a very bad idea, but he didn’t know how to say that without offense. “And did you manage to drain the water under the bridge?”

“In a manner of speaking,” his brother said, his eyes on the fire. “She gave me an explanation of sorts. I’m just unconvinced that it was the whole truth and nothing but.”

“Is it wise to rekindle things, Seb?” Perry decided not
to beat about the bush. “She hurt you so badly before. How can you be certain it won’t happen again?”

“I can’t,” his twin said baldly. “But ’tis the damnedest thing … I don’t think I ever fell out of love with her, Perry.”

“And Lady Serena? Did she fall out of love with you?”

Sebastian shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“But you’re not certain?”

“No, damn it, I’m not. Why d’you have to probe so deep, Perry?”

Peregrine’s shrug was self-deprecating. “I don’t mean to pry, Seb. But it matters to me … how you feel … what’s going on with you.”

Sebastian had no response. He knew how Perry felt because that was exactly the way he felt about his twin. They had always shared each other’s innermost thoughts, felt each other’s sorrows, reveled in each other’s joys. Of course, Perry needed to know.

After a moment, he said, “I need some time, Perry. And so does Serena. We have to see where this is leading. Her life is complicated … to say the least,” he added with a grim smile. “Mine is complicated by the need to fulfill the terms of Uncle Bradley’s will.” He picked up his wine glass. “Let’s agree to let the subject rest for the moment. I can’t see my way clearly, so until I can, it seems there’s little to discuss.”

“Agreed.” His brother raised his own glass in salute, and they both drank. “So, on the subject of Uncle Bradley, perhaps we should pay court a little more assiduously.
’Tis good manners, not to mention good business, to visit the ailing relative whose heir you happen to be.”

“Practical as ever, Perry. We’ll visit as soon as may be.”

Peregrine accepted the original subject as closed. He set down his glass and got to his feet. “Are you dining in?”

“I’ve invited Sefton, Carlton, and Ripley to dinner and cards. You’re welcome to join us.”

Perry shook his head, heading for the door. “Thank you, but no. I have another engagement.”

“Anyone interesting?”

Perry laughed. “Probably no one you would find so, Seb.” His laughter hung in the air as he went upstairs to change for the evening.

Sebastian followed him after a minute. Perry was hiding something, or at least not being totally forth-coming. Peregrine could claim the right to know what was going on in Sebastian’s life, and by the same token, Sebastian could certainly sense when Perry had things he was keeping to himself. He wondered if it had anything to do with the quest for an inheritance-worthy bride. Perry would tell him when he was ready, of course, but his twin claimed the right to probe deeply in his turn if he felt it necessary. At the moment, he was too wrapped up in his own concerns to feel sufficient curiosity about Perry’s to go on the attack, but his brother couldn’t count on being left to his own devices for too long. The reflection brought a reluctant smile to his lips.

He was halfway up the stairs when the front door knocker sounded from the hall below. He frowned. It was too early for his guests, too late for visitors, and tradesmen would have gone to the kitchen door. He paused on the stairs as Bart hastened from the kitchen, racing to the door to pull back the locks. He hauled it open.

Sebastian listened from the stairs, waiting to see if it was something that would concern him. The disembodied voice outside declared, “Message for the Honorable Sebastian Sullivan.”

Bart’s muttered reply was inaudible, but the door closed as the lad backed into the hall again. He set the message on the console table beside the door and scampered back to his supper going cold on the kitchen table.