The Duke's Night of Sin (19 page)

Sebastian raised his hand and tried to call out, but instead a hail of coughs exploded from his
lungs. He crumpled forward, fighting to catch his breath.

“Are you injured?” the farmer called out to him.

“I am fair enough, but Miss Bonnet—I fear she’s out there.” He feebly pointed to the ridge beyond. “Tracks.”

“She was, indeed. Made it as far as the Smith-sons’ last eve.” The farmer reined the horses in and stopped the dray just a stride away from Sebastian.

“And is she well?” Sebastian tried to step out of the hole he’d made when he fell forward, but he did not have the strength. “I need you to take me to her. I must see her.”

“Well, I have no notion how she is today. Heard she was near frozen through by time she reached the barn. That’s where they found her. Sleeping. She’d strapped herself around the horse.”

“She will be all right, will she not?” Sebastian searched the farmer’s eyes for any hint.

“Honestly, Your Grace, I don’t really know.” The farmer hitched his team to the carriage wheel, rushed to Sebastian, and pulled him from the snowdrift. “We’ve got to get you warm. I’ve got blankets on the dray. It’s about the only way to get around with all of this snow. Too deep for a cart or even a sleigh.”

“I need to see h-her.” Sebastian reached out for the older man’s sleeve.

“I am afraid I cannot oblige, Your Grace. The surgeon, Ferguson, is waiting for you at the Crux Inn. I’ve got my orders to deliver you directly to him.”

Though he wanted to argue, say anything to convince the farmer to take him to Siusan first, the moment Sebastian was settled onto the dray, his world fell into darkness.

L
et me go to her,” Sebastian demanded. “You did not see her the night she ventured into the snow. She was cold, delirious, I could hardly understand her when she spoke.”

The surgeon shook his head and leaned his chair back against the wall so that it balanced on its two hind legs. “I am being paid a goodly sum to see you well again. You were asleep for nearly two days. I’ll not risk the coin nor your health by letting you leave just yet.” He leaned
forward and allowed the chair to return to the floor. “And in case you’ve got some idea about leaving anyway, I should inform you that I’ve got a man outside the door … for your protection, Your Grace.”

Sebastian clenched his fists beneath his blankets. He was still very weak, but the lump on his head was no more than a large blue-and-yellow contusion. The surgeon had told him he was no longer in any danger of dying.

He
was
leaving. That very moment.

Sebastian sat up straight and threw his legs over the edge of the mattress. “Tell me where she is. No one can stop me. I am going to her.” A wave of dizziness washed over him, preventing him from standing. But he was fine. He was sure of it. Rose too quickly, that was all.

Just then, the door to the bedchamber opened and Sebastian’s grandmother charged inside and set her hand on his shoulder. She pressed him back to his pillow. “What is this, Sebastian? You need your rest.”

“I have to go to her.” He’d wait a minute more, then try to stand again. “I have to let her know I am well—and I have to see for myself that she is too.”

“Dear boy, I visited her last night. She is very weak, as you are, but I assure you that her mind
and body are sound.” She nodded at Ferguson, who lifted Sebastian’s legs and guided them back under the blankets.

“Miss Bonnet knows you are well, dear, and she is very relieved. She wept when I informed her of this.” His grandmother’s eyes too seemed to well as she recounted the story.

Sebastian slid his legs under the covers and laid his head back against the feather pillow. “Thank God.”

“You may, but if you do not mind, I have already thanked Miss Bonnet.” His grandmother took her hand in his. “What she did was foolish and dangerous, but had she not possessed the courage to venture out into the night in search of the horse, the two of you would have surely been dead by nightfall.”

“I should have been the one.” Sebastian lowered his head. Why did he not wake when she left? He should have heard her. Should have stopped her. If he actually believed the horse was near,
he
would have gone.

“No, you were injured, far worse than you knew.” A funny little smile lifted her lips then. “She is bold and courageous, and yes, unyielding in her beliefs, but kind and generous with her students, according to Gemma. Your niece
adores Miss Bonnet. And, though I have only met her once, I believe I would be very pleased if you were to marry a woman as honest, intelligent, capable, and respectable as Miss Bonnet.”

Sebastian returned her smile. All day, he’d been thinking the very same thing. Siusan was everything his grandmother would expect in the bride of the Duke of Exeter. But she was also extraordinarily passionate, desirable … and Christ, the way she made him feel when she touched him. Well, she was everything the duke would want in a wife as well.

“Now, I’ve sent for my carriage. I would prefer that you convalesce at Clover Hall, rather than this straw-bedded, crowded … what is it called, the Crux Inn?”

“I must see Miss Bonnet first.” Sebastian started from the bed again.

His grandmother chuckled. She sat down in the chair beside the bed. “I thought as much, which is why I have also sent a hackney to collect Miss Bonnet from the farmhouse where she is staying. The hackney will bring her within an hour or two; then we will all travel to Clover Hall together, so you both may recover in warmth and comfort. I owe the dear lady my grandson’s life, after all. Sleep well, dear boy. We’ll leave just after noon.”

A relieved smile eased across Sebastian’s mouth as his grandmother rose, and she and the surgeon quit the room, leaving him alone. Sebastian collapsed against the mattress and closed his eyes to sleep for a spell, knowing that, when he awoke, he would be with Siusan again.

Siusan had had to forfeit half the coins in her reticule to convince the hackney driver to convey her from the Smithsons’ farmhouse to Bath, rather than a few miles down the road to the Crux Inn. The snow on the road had melted to a drivable level, and the driver was eager, after losing several days of pay, to such accept a generous fare.

To ease Sebastian’s mind, she left a letter with Mrs. Smithson for him, thanking both him and his grandmother for the kind invitation to Clover Hall, but that overnight she had regained her strength and since the school holiday was at an end, she felt it her duty to return to her teaching responsibilities at Mrs. Huddleston’s School of Virtues.

Nay, her reasons for leaving were not those, but her need to put as many miles between herself
and the Duke of Exeter demanded that she take advantage of this chance to escape.

Because the snow made travel difficult in Somerset’s outlying areas, most of the students still had not returned to school after the Michaelmas break, including Miss Gentree. Classes were officially canceled, and what few girls had managed the trek through the snow to Mrs. Huddleston’s School of Virtues were content to simply spend their days reading and chatting with each other.

To Siusan’s great surprise, instead of printing her lesson on arranging greenery for the holiday table, the
Bath Times
had instead included a story about the near-fatal carriage accident involving Miss Bonnet and Lord Wentworth. This prompted a number of readers to pen letters to Miss Bonnet, in care of the school, wishing her a rapid recovery and a continuation of her lessons in the newspaper.

Mrs. Huddleston had shoved a massive basketful of these letters into Siusan’s hand as she entered the school and advised her that if she desired, she would be permitted to craft her lessons from her bedchamber for the next week.

There was no further word about her threat to expose Siusan’s true identity to the
on-dit
columnist.
In fact, except for meeting her at the school’s front door, Siusan had not seen Mrs. Huddleston. This worried Siusan considerably, for the old woman could not be trusted and was likely out and about investigating the most secret connection between Siusan and the Duke of Exeter. After all, the more interesting her story, the more the
on-dit
columnist might be willing to pay.

Nay, Siusan knew she had much to do and a limited amount of time to do it.

Her first task was to write a letter to Priscilla, telling her all that had occurred between her and the Marquess of Wentworth. Since he was in truth the Duke of Exeter, she had no choice but secretly to leave Bath for London on the Thursday mail coach.

Now that she knew that the Duke of Exeter was recovering at Clover Hall, it would only be a matter of time before he was well enough to escort Miss Gentree to Bath and call upon her at the school.

It was time she knew she did not possess, for Mrs. Huddleston and her columnist were sure to accost her soon enough and reveal to everyone that Miss Bonnet was in truth Lady Siusan Sinclair. Why they had not yet approached her was likely only a matter of the great outpouring
of public concern over Bath’s etiquette-teaching heroine’s near-fatal accident. They were simply biding their time.

Suddenly, her bedchamber door pushed open, and the Misses Grassley and Hopkins rushed inside.

“We heard you were arrived.” Miss Hopkins’s eyes studied the whole of her critically. “The newspaper said you had nearly died but that you had miraculously recovered after taking Mrs. Smithson’s chicken-and-leek soup.”

Siusan almost laughed, but guessed that having something inside her stomach had helped her regain her strength, and it was the first bit of sustenance she had been able to keep down. “Aye, it is a recipe every lady should have in her kitchen in the event of illness. I should write to her and request the ingredients.”

The two younger women nodded enthusiastically. But there was something more going on. She could see it in their faces. They were bursting with some sort of news.

“All right, what is it? What has happened?” Siusan raised her eyebrows and waited.

Miss Grassley exploded with joyful laughter. “I am getting married!” She squealed like she was one of the students rather than an instructor.

“Married?” Siusan stared at her in disbelief. “But you never leave the school? How?”

Miss Hopkins giggled into her hand, then nudged Miss Grassley. “Tell her. Tell Miss Bonnet that your engagement is all thanks to her.”

Oh dear.
“Thanks to me?” Siusan gripped Miss Grassley’s upper arms. “Do tell.”

“While it is true, Mrs. Huddleston does not permit us to leave the school, she has allowed us to chaperone lecture tours with you on several occasions.”

Siusan nodded. She could see where this path was taking them, and Mrs. Huddleston would not be pleased when she heard of losing another teacher to marriage.

“Mr. Bolten is a waiter at the tea garden. I met him first when your class took tea there. We started exchanging letters the very next day. We began making arrangements for him to be outside the draper’s, or along Trim Street when the class was shopping. Everywhere. And … and, well, we fell in love!” She squealed again.

“So q-quickly?” Siusan opened her mouth to expound about the improbability of falling in love in such a short period, but then realized how ridiculous her argument was—because, in truth, she had no argument. Though she hadn’t known
it at the time, she had fallen in love with Sebastian the very moment they encountered each other.

“And then,” Miss Grassley added, “over Michaelmas, he offered for me, and my father accepted!”

Miss Hopkins giggled with excitement. Siusan cupped a hand over her mouth.

“Congratulations, Miss Grassley! I am so happy for you both.” She pressed a quick hug to the young teacher, then straightened her arms. “Does Mrs. Huddleston know of this yet?” Siusan stared into Miss Grassley’s eyes with all seriousness.

“Not yet, but I will have to inform her. We are to be married at Christmas.”

“Whatever you do, please do not inform her just yet.” Siusan couldn’t tell her that the reason was that
she
was leaving in two days, and Mrs. Huddleston might very well lock the doors from the outside if she knew even one teacher was contemplating leaving. “If you need your position here until the wedding, I would not mention it. The moment she knows you are leaving, she will look to engage another teacher, and if she finds one quickly, you will be dismissed.”

Miss Grassley’s face went pale. “I had not considered that eventuality.”

“Of course you hadn’t, dear. You are in love and
bursting with joy.” Siusan flattened her smile. “But a lady must use her mind and act logically. Keep your secret for now. Even from the students, if you would like to keep your position—and continue chaperoning my lecture tours.”

“You are right.” Miss Grassley placed her index finger over her sealed lips, then looked at Miss Hopkins and Siusan to do the same.

“Siusan …” A sheepish expression fell across Miss Grassley’s features.

“Aye?”

“I have learned so very much from your lessons—la, even how to draw desired attention, a lesson that very likely allowed me to meet Mr. Bolten.” She approached Siusan and took her hand. “I wondered if you would tutor me in wedding etiquette, dressing, planning … everything.”

Siusan smiled at Miss Grassley. She would like nothing more than to assist her friend, but she would be leaving very soon and would not have enough time to plan Miss Grassley’s day.

“My mother passed away a few years ago, and I know she would have helped me—”

Siusan lowered her head. Miss Grassley had said exactly the words to prompt her acceptance—her mother had passed away. The poor lass didn’t know what to do and had no one to teach her.

She knew how helpless Miss Grassley felt, because she had felt the same way when Simon offered for her, and she had no idea what to do next. “Of course I will, Miss Grassley. In fact, I shall write a lesson on weddings and dedicate it to you!”