What You Desire (Anything for Love, Book 1) (22 page)

“Unlike me,” he snorted.

“Well, …” she shrugged.

“My father had been dead a mere five days when I discovered there were sizable debts written against the estate. The creditors were quick to bang on the door to demand their money. My father’s man of business, a Mr. William Farrow, had kept them at bay by promising a rather inflated rate of interest, which, unfortunately was well documented.” He sighed. “Unlike the small amounts Mr. Farrow had embezzled.” He shook his head as he remembered the crippling feeling of disbelief, of desperation. “I have spent the last six years paying for it.”

Sophie looked aghast. “I do not know what to say. What had your father done with all the money?” she asked before taking another small bite of bread.

Sebastian shrugged. “He spent it on everything and anything. He had a weakness for horse racing, for diamond-encrusted pocket watches, for widows with expensive tastes, on anything to dull the pain, anything to fill the hole left by my mother.”

Sebastian could not be angry with his father. Angry at himself, yes, for not noticing the torment his father was going through. If only he had known, then they could have consoled each other. Perhaps things would have been different.

But then he would not be sitting in his private chamber with Sophie.

“I see,” she said, her eyes awash with sympathy. “And so you were not on the Continent living in lavish surroundings while your tenants struggled to survive.” There was a hint of shame in her tone.

“No, I was working with Dudley. After selling off all that was not nailed down, there was still a deficit. I dismissed Mr. Farrow and employed Dudley Spencer. Which turned into more of a partnership and then a friendship, but that is an extremely long story which I will save for another time.”

“But why did you not say something?” she said with a sigh of exasperation. “You let all but a handful of servants go and so everyone thought you had no interest in Westlands, when really you were trying desperately to save it.”

He looked down into his lap. “I could not bear for others to think badly of my father,” he began, his voice reflecting his anguish. “He was weak. It was not his fault.”

Sophie leaned forward and placed her hand on his. It was smaller and softer, yet it gave him strength. “But you let others think the worst of you,” she said. There was a moment of silence and then she chuckled. “I cannot imagine you working as a man of business. How on earth did you keep it a secret?”

He shook his head. “You misunderstand. The work with Dudley… well, it was of a sensitive nature.”

She absorbed his words and then with wide eyes asked, “You are not working for the government, are you?”

“No, I am not working for the government. But with our connections in Society—” He stopped abruptly and then added, “You know Dudley is the illegitimate son of the Duke of Morton.”

“Is he really? Then why is he working as a man of business?”

“There was some disagreement over whom he should wed. Dudley would prefer to make his own living than to bow down to the demands of a father who has little regard for his personal welfare. Besides, we have done extremely well helping those members of the
ton
who found themselves in a pickle. Dudley still takes on the odd job here and there. But nothing that would take him away from home.”

She appeared highly amused. “And what possible pickles do the elite of Society find themselves in?”

He shifted further onto the bed, making himself more comfortable. “We were hired by Lord … well, by a certain person who shall remain nameless, to track down his runaway daughter. We found her on the way to Gretna and she was brought back here until we could sneak her home without anyone noticing.” He gave her a smug grin. “Which happened to be in the middle of the night,” he added. “The gentleman put it about that his daughter had been ill with a fever and the rogue in question did not dare to contradict for fear of being shipped off to Calcutta in a crate.”

“How fascinating,” she said, her eyes wide with delight. “Oh, do tell me more, I …” She stopped abruptly. “Do you mean the ladies you escorted home in the middle of the night were clients?”

He turned his hand over so he could hold hers. “Sophie, the only women who have been in this house are the ones associated with our business. I am not saying I have always been a saint in such matters. But the stories you have heard from the gossips in Marchampton or from Amy or from Mrs. Cox, well, they are simply not true.”

“You mean you’re not a reckless rogue?”

“Only where you’re concerned.”

She looked down into her lap. “You must think me naïve and rather foolish.”

“Not at all. I find your jealousy rather endearing,” he replied attempting to lighten the mood.

“Jealousy!” she exclaimed lifting her head to meet his gaze, but then seeing his teasing expression she grinned. “If you believe I’m jealous, then conceit must surely be your middle name.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “While we are in the mood for disclosing secrets, isn’t there something you need to tell me?”

“I am not sure what you mean,” she answered looking a little wary.

Intrigued by such a guarded response, Sebastian wondered if there were other secrets he was not aware of.

“Do not look so frightened,” he said. “I am talking about the reason Madame Labelle insisted on meeting with you. I was convinced Dampierre would make some move to kidnap you and ransom you for the necklace.”

“Would you have paid?” she replied coyly with an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes.

Sebastian shrugged. “That all depends on how grateful you would have been.” His hungry gaze roamed over her bare shoulders. “Are you going to tell me what was so important that Madame Labelle insisted on meeting with you in public? Did she remember something about James?”

“Well, not exactly.” She paused and breathed deeply. “You were right. The Comte de Dampierre owns Labelles, amongst other things. Dampierre insists I attend Lord Delmont’s masquerade. I’m to wear the necklace and he has even provided me with a costume. Madame Labelle has left it in your carriage. That reminds me, I must check to see if Amy has hung it up to air.”

Sebastian stared at her, his expression hard and unforgiving. “You’re not going,” he said sharply. It was not a question, it was an order he was determined she would follow.

“I told Madame Labelle that is exactly what you would say,” she replied with a weak smile. “Particularly, once you had learned that Dampierre will also be in attendance and he expects me to hand over the necklace.”

“You’re not going,” he repeated, stressing the words with patriarchal authority, as she appeared completely unconcerned about the danger she would be placing herself in. Thank God she didn’t know where he’d put the necklace. It would not surprise him to wake and find them both missing.

“Dampierre has agreed you may accompany me,” she added pressing her case.

He stood abruptly and walked over to the window, just to place some distance between them, for he had been an arms-reach away from shaking her to her senses.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he interjected. “Do you know what a crush it will be? I would struggle to find you even if your face wasn’t covered. At a blasted masquerade, it will be nigh on impossible.” He pushed his hands through his hair in frustration. “Why on earth have you waited until now to tell me?”

Sophie blushed. “I … I was thinking of something else at the time, if you remember. I did not wish to spoil the moment.” She shook her head. “And because I knew you would act like this.” She gestured to his pacing with an element of censure. “Can you not see there is some logic in accepting the offer?”

He sighed. “Not when I find it difficult to believe he only wants the necklace. What if he is simply looking for a replacement for Annabel?” The thought of losing her, of her ending up in such a situation, well, he could not bear to contemplate it. “What do you expect me to say when you seem content with serving yourself up as the prized pig?”

“I beg your pardon.”

He stopped pacing. “It is just a turn of phrase. You know what I meant by it.” He dropped into the chair and took a deep breath. “Did Madame Labelle mention Dampierre’s interest in Annabel?”

Sophie swallowed. “Not at all. Madame Labelle simply assured me that Victor … that Dampierre wants some form of recompense and is, therefore, willing to accept the necklace.” She looked him keenly in the eye and said with earnest. “What choice do we have? I cannot return to Marchampton until the matter is closed. Dampierre could call on me at any time. You cannot camp on the doorstep. You cannot always be there to offer your protection.”

I can
and I will, once you
accept a proposal of marriage.

He stood and walked over to her, took her hand in his. “There is something I have been meaning to ask you,” he began but was interrupted by a discreet tap on the door. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on asking the question that plagued him, but Sophie kept glancing towards the door and the person knocking was persistent.

“Are you going to answer it?” she asked with a nervous edge to her voice.

Reluctantly, Sebastian dropped her hand, walked over to the door and opened it just wide enough to peer out, using his body to prevent the caller from looking in. “What is it?” he asked with some impatience.

Haines was standing at the door, looking like a little boy who had just put a hole in his best breeches. “Forgive me, my lord, I did not mean to disturb you. But there is someone waiting to see you downstairs.”

“Who is it?” There were only a few people who knew he owned the house, let alone he was in residence.

Haines did not reply, but raised his brows and jerked his head in the direction of the stairs.

“Very well,” Sebastian grumbled. “I shall be right down.”

Haines perused Sebastian’s crumpled attire. “I think you’ll need to smarten yourself up a bit for this one.”

Chapter 21

After donning a clean shirt and cravat, Sebastian shrugged into his waistcoat and hastily fastened the buttons. If the caller expected to be received formally, then he was gravely mistaken. He would rather be damned than wear a coat, in his own house and at such an ungodly hour. Besides, until he knew the identity of his late night visitor, there was always a chance he would have to get his hands dirty. Should the need arise he would prefer not to be encumbered by excessive clothing.

With some reluctance, he advised Sophie to return to her room, the distraction downstairs offering the perfect opportunity to do so, unnoticed. Finally, after a minor disagreement where he had reinforced the need for sleep and she had managed to bribe him into agreeing to discuss the masquerade, he made his way downstairs.

Haines, who was waiting for him in the hall with one hand resting on the newel post, looked up. “I’ve put them in the drawing room, my lord,” he said, straightening. “Mrs. Cox is making tea, but maybe you’ll want something stronger.”

Sebastian gave him a quizzical look. “Them?” he asked a little surprised. He glanced down towards Haines’ empty hands. “Is there no card?”

Haines shook his head. “No, my lord. But I believe the gentleman knows you, or else I’d not have let them in.”

“I confess it has been a long time since you’ve behaved so mysteriously,” Sebastian continued, thoroughly intrigued. “I hope I’m not going to be disappointed.”

Indeed, he had been dragged from the comfort of his bedchamber, from soft lips and a warm embrace. It had better be for something bloody important.

The first thing he noticed as he strode into the room was that the only source of light came from a pair of silver-gilt candelabras, each standing on the side tables flanking the marble fireplace. The soft glow cast a modicum of illumination over one of his guests.

The lady sat bolt upright in the chair, although there was nothing stately about her posture. On the contrary, she gripped the arms as though she was ready to flee at a moment’s notice. He had seen her pert nose and rosy pink lips before. But now, in place of the broad-rimmed riding hat, were honey-gold tresses swept back in a simple style one would consider both practical and easy to manage. Gone were the breeches and coat, replaced by a dull, mauve dress with not one adornment: no little pearl buttons, no lace edging on the sleeves or collar. She reminded Sebastian of a governess, albeit an extremely pretty one. The type employed by the more unscrupulous of gentlemen for their own particular needs rather than that of their children.

Appearing somewhat uneasy by his assessing gaze, she turned her head towards the window, to the tall figure lurking in the shadows.

“I hope we have not disturbed you, Dane,” the faceless man drawled, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm. “Please tell me you have managed to get some sleep since we last met.”

James Beaufort stepped into the light. His coat was creased and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry about me. You look as though you haven’t slept for days.”

Beaufort gave a weak smile. “More like a week.”

“I can tell just by looking at your clothes,” Sebastian said gesturing to Beaufort’s crumpled attire. Thankfully, the gentleman carried it off with graceful poise and an air of self-assurance that made one overlook such imperfections.