Johanna Lindsey (27 page)

“Yes, but it’s nice to have it confirmed. Not that I care anymore what her bloody motive was. I just want to get this wrapped up and be gone.”

“You don’t think her remarks implicate your brother?”

“Yes, they appear to, but I’m going with my gut instinct on this one, and that’s that Denton isn’t involved. I do think he’s guilty about something, and I wouldn’t mind finding out what, but not if it means staying here any longer.”

“Then I should begin packing?”

Sebastian paused only a moment. “Yes.”

S
EBASTIAN WASN’T EXPECTING MUCH COOPERATION on this second meeting with his father. He’d had the upper hand on the first go-round, the element of surprise, since Douglas hadn’t known he’d returned to England. His father’s condition, being barely recovered, had also made it easier to avoid any discussion of the past. Neither element was going to be present today.

He knocked. The maid didn’t let him in, Douglas’s call did. A quick glance about the room showed that his father was alone. And no longer in bed.

“Where’s the maid?” Sebastian asked.

“Don’t need a watchdog any longer. I can reach the bellpull m’self if necessary.”

“And your valet?”

Douglas was standing in front of the mirror, tying his own cravat. Even Sebastian didn’t attempt those fancy knots on his own, though it was rare that he dressed that formally anymore to need John’s expertise in the matter.

“Dismissed him years ago and never bothered to hire another. Found I prefer to dress m’self,” Douglas said before he turned away from the mirror to give Sebastian his attention. “Beating about the bush, are you?”

Was it that obvious? The question didn’t embarrass him, but he didn’t like that his father could still read him so well. “No, just judging for myself how well you are.”

“Before you attempt to walk all over me again?” Douglas said pointedly.

Now that embarrassed him. It also warned Sebastian that his father had recovered more of his strength than the family realized. So much for having another advantage. In fact, if he didn’t quickly introduce the topic he’d come there to raise, he had a feeling they’d be discussing the door and how he should make use of it.

“I wasn’t expecting you to ignore your doctor’s advice,” Sebastian said.

“Nor have I—for the most part. But aside from the occasional headache, I’m feeling up to scratch. That infernal weakness is gone, so there’s no reason for me to warm the bed any longer.” Sebastian guessed that his father had been getting dressed actually to leave his room. Bloody hell.

Margaret was right, someone was going to mention her marriage to him in passing, with the assumption that he already knew about it. While she would be able to carry through on the farce as she’d intended, he hadn’t expected old feelings to arise that would prevent him from doing the same.

Seeing his father like this, without the animosity that had come between them, reminded him too much of the closeness they’d shared before he’d left England.

He’d never lied to his father, never had a reason to. He would have found the very idea ludicrous.

Sebastian wasn’t that man anymore, but then—he was. It was a bloody strange feeling that didn’t sit well with him a’tall.

“But you didn’t come to inquire after my health, did you?” Douglas continued.

“No, and I’ll be frank. I want to be on a ship sailing to France before the end of the day. You can assure that by simply—”

He couldn’t finish, had to turn around. The disappointment he’d just seen in his father’s expression

—it was wishful thinking on his part. He knew damn well it was. Hope could delude a man. But a tightness still welled up in his chest and stopped the words from coming out.

“I’m not going to discuss my run of bad luck again, Sebastian. You can take my word on it that no outside influence of any sort has been involved. To look for a culprit here is ludicrous.” Too much defensiveness in Douglas’s tone, or Sebastian might have let it go at that. “Let’s discuss your bad leg, then.”

He turned back around in time to see the vivid flush climbing his father’s cheeks. It had been a guess, but damned if it didn’t hit the exact mark.

“How in the bloody hell did you find out?” Douglas demanded stiffly.

Sebastian shrugged. “You just told me.”

“Like hell I did!”

“Suffice it to say, I’m good at adding things up. Too many mentions of a limp. Your reaction merely confirmed that you have some sort of medical problem you don’t care to share with anyone. So what’s wrong with your leg?”

Douglas clamped his mouth shut. The color was still high in his cheeks. He walked over to the reading chair by his window and sat down. No limp whatsoever on the way there, Sebastian observed with a frown. Had he guessed accurately or not?

“Damned if I know what the problem is,” Douglas began, his tone still defensive. “It started quite a few years ago.”

“What did?”

“I’m getting to that!” Douglas almost snarled, making Sebastian realize that embarrassment was causing his father’s high color. “I was on my way to the stable for my morning ride, realized I’d forgotten my riding crop and turned about abruptly to fetch it. I heard the pop quite clearly, it was so bloody loud.

Thought I’d snapped the bone in my knee. And it swelled up immediately, nearly twice its size. But oddly, it didn’t feel like a broken bone. It was painful, but nothing I couldn’t tolerate.”

“What did Culden have to say about it?”

Brighter color infused his cheeks as his father admitted, “I never sent for him.”

“Why not?”

“I was going to, but the groom who helped me back to my room that day mentioned that Culden was in the next county visiting his sister and wouldn’t be back before evening. He offered to ride over, but with the pain lessened as soon as I elevated my leg, I figured it wasn’t an emergency and could wait.

And by that evening the swelling was already starting to recede.”

“So you didn’t actually break any bones?”

“No indeed, and it seemed to be getting better by the hour, so the good doctor wasn’t needed. A couple days later the swelling was completely gone and I was even able to walk on the leg again. By the end of the week, there was no discomfort left a’tall. I figured I merely tore some muscle and it mended itself. I gave it no further thought.”

“But that wasn’t the end of it?”

Douglas sighed. “No. Once or twice a year my knee simply gives out on me. Usually I can catch myself before I fall, but sometimes it just happens so abruptly that I go down hard. And it goes through the same bloody routine each time, the swelling, which only lasts a few days, some pain, enough to keep me from putting my full weight on it, then right as rain again, as if nothing happened.”

“Your accident on the cliff?”

Douglas made a look of disgust. “My own fault, that one. I felt my saddle loosen up and realized the new groom hadn’t known any better than to saddle a horse when it’s bellowed. I should have noticed it m’self before I left the stable, but I didn’t. I was in the process of dismounting to tighten the straps when my knee gave out.”

“So every accident you’ve had has been the result of your knee buckling?”

“Most of them, yes.”

“And this last accident?”

Douglas snorted. “No, that was my stallion acting like a silly mare when a field mouse shot across the road under his feet. Damned animal reared up then bolted off the road. The lower branch there caught me by surprise, or I would have been able to duck under it.” Sebastian shook his head. “Care to mention why you’ve kept all this to yourself?” Douglas scowled. “I despise this weakness, but I’ll live through it. I’ve learned to take precautions. And it’s nobody else’s business, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention it to anyone, including Maggie.”

Sebastian finally understood. His father viewed his infirmity as a personal weakness, so he was actually ashamed of it. Pride. It could manifest itself in the oddest ways.

“As you wish. I believe I can convince her to take my word on it, that her concerns were groundless. And since that concludes my business here…”

He turned to leave. He did pause briefly at the door, but his father said nothing to stop him. He had to force himself to remain silent, or he would have snarled out his own bitterness. He wasn’t welcome here. He’d merely been tolerated.

M
ARGARET WAS EATING a late breakfast when Sebastian entered the dining room. He didn’t sit down to join her, just stood there at the entrance looking—not ominous, but certainly not friendly.

“I’m leaving,” Sebastian said.

Margaret went very still. Something similar to panic seemed to be rising in her.

“Without finishing the job?”

“It’s finished. The culprit has been found, it’s just not what you were expecting.”

“Explain.”

His lips turned an ironic slant. “I spoke with my father again. He took me into his confidence merely to put the matter to rest. I had to assure him what we spoke of would go no farther. So you’re simply going to have to trust me on this, Maggie. No one is trying to kill him.” She was relieved, and yet annoyed that he wasn’t going to tell her why, which prompted the remark, “That’s asking a bit much, don’t you think?”

He raised both brows, actually seemed surprised. “You don’t trust me?” She did, of course, but she reminded him, “You say one thing and then do another. That isn’t a strong basis for trust.”

“What are you talking about?”

The blush was immediate. She was not going to mention that conversation where he’d agreed not to touch her again—then later that night barged into the bathroom and joined her in the tub.

But he guessed, and snorted. “There are times in a man’s life when he throws all caution to the wind. When he’s in the grip of lust is one of those times.” How crude. Lust, not love. She was such a fool to keep trying to switch the two around.

She put down the muffin she’d been eating and said coldly, “A gentleman would have phrased that much more delicately.”

He gave a short bark of laughter. “A gentleman wouldn’t have mentioned it a’tall. Give it a rest, Maggie. You know I don’t fall into that category anymore.”

She sighed and followed his advice to drop the subject. “If Douglas was willing to take you into his confidence, does that mean you’ve patched things up with him?”

“No.”

He said that too abruptly, and his expression turned inscrutable again. She had a feeling that no amount of prying would get him to reveal his thoughts on the matter.

She asked him pointedly, “What about Juliette?”

“What about her?”

“Did you find out why she set the duel in motion?”

“No,” he replied. “And frankly, I’ve concluded that her motive is never going to come to light, so there is no point in pursuing a dead end.”

“You must be joking!”

“Maggie, the longer I stay here, the more certain I am I’ll end up killing someone, and for no purpose. It won’t bring Giles back. It won’t erase the last eleven years.”

“So Denton doesn’t know either?” she pressed. “You asked him?”

“Yes, I asked, and no, he doesn’t know why, or he simply won’t speak of it. It’s hard to tell which it is with him, since he is hiding something that causes him a great deal of guilt. By the by, do you know where he is?”

“London,” she said tonelessly.

Margaret’s sense of panic was growing stronger. She was running out of reasons for Sebastian to stay, had only one last wild card that she could play, but she doubted it would work.

He appeared frustrated by her answer, had probably wanted to say good-bye to his brother.

Would that be enough to keep him here a little longer?

“When did he leave?” he asked.

“This morning. Juliette left for London at dawn. Denton followed an hour or so later, whether to bring her back or finish the fight that sent her off, no one knows.”

“Does she usually hie herself off to London when they fight? Or is she just making sure she doesn’t run into me again before I leave?”

“She has been known to spend a week or two in London after they have a really loud fight, but since no one mentioned anything more than raised voices, you might have the right of it.”

“Someone should let her know then that I’m gone.”

So much for that delay. “I take that to mean you plan to leave immediately?”

“Indeed.”

She chewed on her lip. For a wild card, it was rather pathetic, but that sense of panic prompted her to play it anyway. “I need to ask you…a favor.”

“Maggie—”

“Hear me out,” she cut in. “I know you probably feel you’ve done me enough favors, but I really wasn’t expecting you to leave this soon, and it’s going to put me in quite a pickle if you do.” He was already frowning. “Why?”

“The dowager duchess’s party. If we don’t both show up for it, she’ll never forgive me.”

“So?”

“So the quickest way to court social ruin is to get in her bad graces. Getting a divorce won’t be nearly as ostracizing as earning Alberta’s disfavor.”

His scowl darkened. “Why do I have the feeling you aren’t joking about this?” She tsked. “Because I’m not. And it’s just one more night in England, Sebastian. You can leave the morning after the party.”

He made her wait for a few moments before he said, “Very well, but only if we both return to White Oaks immediately. You can send someone back to tell your maid to pack your bags.”

“That’s rather extreme, isn’t it? It would take me only a few minutes to find Edna to tell her.”

“Now, or we don’t have a deal.”

“What about your grandmother?” Margaret asked. “Aren’t you going to say good-bye to her?” A pained expression flitted across his face. “Where is she now, the conservatory?” Margaret nodded.

“What is your rush?” she asked in exasperation as she stood up to leave the table.