Page 7 of Scandalous Desires on a Summer Morning
“No,” he said lazily, “you merely dramatized the situation to the point I feared you’d taken to the fainting couch. How could I then not come, especially when I am so fond of you?”
A small smile touched his mother’s mouth and some of the tension eased from her shoulders.Good. Sebastian sauntered to the armchair by the window and sank into it, stretching his long legs before him. He took a sip, letting the burn anchor him, andthen flicked his gaze toward his father. “Go on then, what’s this grave crisis?”
His father turned toward him. “Sir Percival Winton is dead. From my understanding, it has been a year.”
The name tugged at vague memories. His father had once spoken of the baronet with admiration. “My condolences.”
“Sir Percival named me the guardian of his children. Three daughters.”
Sebastian nodded. “I see.”
“They arrived today.”
Sebastian flicked a quick glance at his mother. “What is so dire about that?”
His father took another drink, then continued, “They possess neither fortune nor family willing to assume their care. Their cousin inherited the estate and wasted no time evicting them.”
Sebastian arched a brow. “Very cold of him. What would you have me do, Father?”
Before the earl could reply, his wife gave a sharp scoff.
“There were three girls mentioned in Lord Winton’s papers, Sebastian. Yet four have arrived. We are not a charitable institution. I will not have an obvious illegitimate child under my roof.”
“Is that what has you so alarmed?” he asked, tone dry, edged with amusement rather than true reproach.
His mother dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Miss Elizabeth is seventeen. Miss Vivian, sixteen. Both are beautiful and appear adequately mannered. Their father spoke well of them—skilled on the pianoforte, fluent in French and Italian, raised with the graces expected of a gentleman’s daughters. I have decided to bring them to Town next season. With proper attire and polish, Elizabeth may secure a respectable match, which would, in turn, raise Vivian’s prospects when her time comes.”
Sebastian took a thoughtful sip of his brandy. “And the eldest?”
His mother’s mouth tightened. “She is three-and-twenty and wholly unsuited for a debut. A companion’s post might suit her, or a position as governess—though I suspect even that may be difficult.”
“Surely she could be presented still and find a decent husband,” he said. “Three and twenty is not decrepit.”
His mother’s lips flattened. “She is not particularly accomplished, and her appearance is… plain. What would induce a man to make her an offer?”
Sebastian said nothing at first. He thought of Miss Winton’s impossibly blue eyes and the quiet, resolute dignity with which she held herself. He recalled the elegant line of her neck, the gentle swell of her figure, the soft, lush curves she carried with unselfconscious grace. She was striking in a way that lingered.
How had his mother not seen this?
“I saw Miss Winton in the hallway. She did not strike me as plain,” he murmured.
His mother bristled. “Naturally, she wouldn’t appear so to you. You are drawn to insolence and everything that defies propriety. You will be the death of me one day!”
He chuckled, unapologetic. “I am drawn to anything interesting. There is a difference, Mother.”
His father, ever the peacemaker between them, finally spoke again. “Miss Winton has nowhere else to go, and we must find a solution.”
“At her age, she is not our responsibility,” the countess snapped. “We cannot be expected to house her and that child.”
“Would you cast her into the street, Mother?” he asked mildly, lifting a brow. “That hardly seems in keeping with the dignity of Hardwick.”
“I will find her a position,” she said with an air of finality. “Somewhere appropriate. But she cannot linger here. Any whisper of scandal could ruin her sisters’ prospects.”
“What scandal?” he asked, though he already suspected her answer.
His mother gave a delicate sniff, as if the very telling offended her sensibilities. “The young child is about four years of age. Do I need to be more explicit?”
Sebastian studied the swirling ice in his glass before setting it aside. “Yes, Mother, I do not want to have to speculate about what vexes you.”
