Page 9 of A Duke's Lustful Portrait
Sinclair laughed. “I can see he didn’t. I thought perhaps that was what had brought you here, but perhaps not. He left us after a year or two, unhappy with how the society was going. We heard very little of him after that. Tell me, Ravenswood, does that bother you?”
“Good Lord, no,” Sebastian said. “Whyever should it?”
Sinclair shrugged. “He was your father. A young man often follows in his father’s footsteps.”
Sebastian looked away, his mind racing for answers. Edward Sinclair was clearly a shrewd, astute man, and Sebastian would have to be very careful about where he trod.
“My father and I … it was a difficult relationship. Indeed, I barely saw him growing up. The late duke had a life of his own, which didn’t include looking after a small boy or later guiding a young man.”
“He always was a secretive man, wasn’t he?” Sinclair continued. He had returned his attention to the brandy, swirling it around and around as if to release its flavour. “I hadn’t heard he was dead. Such a tragedy.”
Sebastion shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “Yes, well, secretive is right. His death came as a shock to us all, but it was quick, and, as was typical of my father’s style, no fuss was made.”
“And you decided not to announce it?” Sinclair looked at him directly now, his eyes searching for some answer. Sebastian pursed his lips.
“I should have thought my arrival in London was announcement enough. He was a private man, Your Grace, and he would have been mortified to have had his death splashed all over the papers. If you ever knew him as you say you did, you would know that.” He added the deferential formality in the hope that Sinclair would let it go and see him as a good, honourable man.
“I can understand that.” Sinclair nodded, looking for answers in the bottom of his glass once more. “What surprises me even more, though, is that he managed to keep a son and heir secret! I know the old man was married, but I always thought his wife was barren.”
Sebastian cleared his throat again. He didn’t like this line of questioning and certainly didn’t enjoy feeling as though he was being interrogated. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Wasn’t Sebastian supposed to be the one asking questions? Digging and delving? Discovering the truth? Whatever happened, he had to keep his true intentions secret, just as the late duke would have.
“I can’t speak to her fertility,” he said, showing his discomfort, “but I believe that my presence here can attest to the fact that she wasn’t entirely barren, Your Grace. I attended school on the continent, as both my parents believed in a well-rounded and well-travelled education.
After the age of six, I was barely ever in England—at least until my father’s death called me back. Now, I have decided the time has come to take my rightful place here in London. I may not have been here long, but I have as much right to be here as anyone else.”
“Of course you do,” Sinclair said. His voice had brightened suddenly, and he leapt from the chair, fetching the decanter. He refilled Sebastian’s glass before refilling his own. Sebastian watched curiously. Had he given sufficient answers and laid Sinclair’s concerns to rest? “And I, for one, am glad you are here. I suppose you guessed I am the one who sent you the invitation?”
Sebastian lowered his head by way of agreeing. “I had suspected after seeing you at the ball last week.”
Sinclair rolled his eyes. “Such boring events, but I must take Arabella along occasionally, or she and her grandmother get restless.”
Arabella.Hearing her name again sent a shiver down Sebastian’s spine. She was the daughter of the man who had murdered his mother, and yet, he found he desperately wanted to see her again. Her father spoke of her with evident disdain, which riled Sebastian even more.
What has got into you?he reprimanded himself harshly.She is not why you are here!
“As such, assuming you are accepted and you accept us,” Sinclair continued, “you will come undermywing, a protégé of sorts if you will.”
Sebastian nodded. That was excellent news. It meant he would be working closely with Sinclair and would be able to discover the best way to punish him, to hurt him.
And get another chance to see Lady Arabella.
“I can only hope I live up to everyone’s expectations then,” he said. He sipped his brandy, enjoying the heat in his throat.
“Between you and I,” Sinclair said, a glint in his eye, “your membership will be made official this evening. You’ve already been accepted.”
Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief. Sinclair’s line of questioning had him worried, and even now, he wondered what Sinclair knew about him already—if anything. He would guard the secrets of his past as close to his chest as he could. He couldn’t risk anyone finding out the truth until he was ready to exact his revenge.
“I’m very honoured to be here,” Sebastian said with a nod, knowing that was what Sinclair wanted to hear. “And thank you for my invitation.”
“You’re more than welcome, and I hope this is the beginning of a bright and long-lasting friendship.” He raised his glass in the air. “To the Lord’s Society.”
“To the Lord’s Society,” Sebastian parroted, raising his own glass in a toast.
Sinclair rose from his seat and strode to the door. Without saying a word, the footman opened it from the other side. Sebastian watched in amazement, wondering how the servants had become so well trained as to know the duke’s intentions without any indication. He was just about to walk over the threshold when he turned back.
“Your father would be proud of you, Ravenswood,” Sinclair said, eyeing him carefully. “Whereverhe may be.”
Sebastian held his breath as he watched Sinclair breeze from the room, a grin on his face. He cut an intimidating figure.
