Page 28 of What's a Duke Got to Do With It
“I say, Ramsleigh, that was a sight to behold. And a damn good idea—oh, pardon me, Miss Denby—for these country bumpkins cannot fail to silence their gossiping if you and I take Miss Denby to the floor. A blasted duke, and an heir to an extremely powerful baron? They shall be no match for our combined support. But are you well?” he asked, looking on Miss Denby with concern. “Do you need air?”
“N-no. I’m well, thank you,” she managed. Her cheeks, which until then had been unnaturally pale, burst forth in a riot of color.
Bridling smiled wide. “Then will you honor me with a dance?” he asked, holding out his hand.
She nodded tightly, placing her trembling fingers in his. “If you wish it, sir.”
Sebastian watched them take their places before, frowning, he strode to the side of the room. But he did not stop there. No, he kept going, to the side door, flinging it open and stepping out into the cool night air. The long colonnade was empty, the only souls about being the quietly talking coachmen and sleepy horses that lined the street, waiting for their passengers. And Sebastian was fervently grateful for the respite from humanity.
Miss Denby was a danger to all his carefully laid plans. Not that she had done anything to deserve such condemnation, of course. She was only ever her sweet, unassuming, kind self. But he had always been deeply affected by her, whether he wished it or not. And now, seeing her in such dire straits, knowing she felt compelled to marry whatever man might come along and give her respectability, no matter how miserable she might be, he felt a helplessness and anger coursing through him that he could not seem to contain.
He clenched his teeth tight, looking out over the dark landscape, breathing in deep of the briny ocean air. But contain it he must. Not only was it no business of his, but his own future security, and those who relied on him, depended on him distancing himself from Miss Denby’s troubles and letting her do what she must.
If only I could marry her myself.
The thought, a mere whisper of an idea through the halls of his mind, nevertheless shook him down to the foundation of his soul. He quickly shut it up, turning the lock on it for good measure. No, he would not even contemplate thatwhat if. Whatever chance they’d had for a future was well and truly gone. He had his life to live and she had hers—including doing what she felt she had to regarding finding a husband.
His lips twisted as he looked over his shoulder toward the sound of music and laughter coming from the Assembly Rooms. He just prayed that whoever else she had singled out as a future life partner, they were a sight better than tonight’s dubious choice.
Chapter 10
Your Grace.”
Sebastian, in the process of passing the drawing room as he headed out for a brisk ride the following morning—preferably one that would not take him anywhere near where Miss Denby might be—stopped and peered inside. “Lady Tesh,” he said, striding within the room and bowing. “I did not expect to see you up so early. I hope you slept well after the revelries of last night?”
“Oh, I never have trouble sleeping, I assure you,” she replied. Then, waving a gnarled hand toward the high-backed chair to her right, she said, “I would be most appreciative if you would join me. I believe you and I are due for another talk.”
Unease latched on to the base of his skull. Just like the last time she had cornered him to talk privately on the night of his arrival at Seacliff, there was something premeditated in this whole thing. Though this time there was something more in her gaze, a craftiness and suspicion. But how could he refuse? And so, bowing once more, he sank into the chair she indicated.
For a moment she watched him closely, her sharp brown eyes, without a hint of milkiness as so many of her age had, seeming to take in everything. Freya, seated in the woman’s lap, gazed at him with equal narrow-eyed interest. Sebastian, feeling as if he were being called to the carpet for some ungodly reason, could only sit and wait while the woman gathered her thoughts. Was she going to comment on his behavior the night before in causing further talk about her companion? God knew he had been kicking himself in the arse about it ever since; he could not blame the elderly woman a bit should she wish to rake him over the coals.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she spoke. But it was not about Katrina at all.
“How do you think Mr. Bridling has responded to our schedule thus far?”
His relief was so acute, he nearly sagged in his seat. Blasted idiot, he berated himself, to suspect that she had wanted to ambush him in regard to Miss Denby. How the devil had he forgotten about his understanding with the dowager viscountess to distract Bridling from thoughts of his paramour?
“Ah, Bridling.” He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. “I do believe he has thoroughly enjoyed the events you have planned.”
She cocked one sharp eyebrow high on her forehead, the lines about her mouth deepening as she pursed her lips, a decidedly arch look. “However,” she prompted.
She was too quick, this woman. “However,” he continued obediently, almost sheepishly, “Bridling is used to a fast set in London. And while dinner parties and balls are wonderful diversions, I do believe the boy needs something a bit… more. If that is not too presumptuous of me, of course,” he hurried to say, for Lady Tesh had gone uncommonly still and narrowed her eyes in such a way that he was certain she was preparing to give him a sharp tongue-lashing for daring to insult her schedule.
Much to his surprise, however, the dowager did not do anything of the sort.
“Of course,” she said, dipping her head in acknowledgment. “That was quite a misstep on my part, wasn’t it? But you will forgive me. I am an old woman, and my mind is not what it used to be.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to denounce such a statement—Lady Tesh was sharper of mind than most of his contemporaries—but she waved a hand in the air and continued blithely on.
“Let us say that the past two days were a dress rehearsal, and we may now move on to the performance at hand. It is time to dazzle the boy. Which means, of course, that we cannot rely on Synne’s typical population. No, we must surround him with all manner of pretty women and lively young men.”
He looked at her with a new appreciation. “I assume you have a group of young people in mind?”
Her smile was pure cat-that-licked-the-cream. “I certainly do. Though,” she continued, her mood turning in an instant, a frown pulling down on her face, “it may not be as easy as it should be, not with the vicar spreading his tales of Miss Denby and her unfortunate history. After the events of the last two nights, I fear it shall only grow worse before it gets better.”
Sebastian, who had begun to relax some, tensed at that. The anger that had been simmering in him over the past two evenings boiled up. Would that he could denounce those who would malign her—especially the vicar, from whom most of the vitriol seemed to originate.
Lady Tesh, blessedly, was not as blinded as he by anger—a good thing, for if he continued to insert himself into situations as clumsily as he had last night, there was no telling what more damage he might do to Miss Denby’s reputation. The dowager straightened, looking as certain and capable as anyone he had ever known. “But that only means I shall have to be more creative in my invitations. The three grown children of the Marquess of Ilford are all godchildren of mine and not a half day’s journey from Synne. And my landscape designer, Mr. Mishra, is just outside Whitby with his own children. I shall write to them all immediately. Do let Jasper know that I require a quantity of paper and ink.”
