Page 2 of A Marriage of Convenience with a Rake
“Oh...” Sebastian shut his eyes. The man could be dead. The balcony was on the first floor, but it was not impossible, if he fell truly badly, for the man to have broken his neck. The ground was stone hard. Sebastian waved his hands, trying to get the crowd around the earl to clear.
“Clear a path! Clear a path!” he yelled firmly.
Slowly, the people dispersed. He reached the body and bent down. He held his breath, heart thudding. The man was lying on his side, his face white, his body not moving. Sebastian put hishand at the man’s neck, taking his pulse. He slumped in relief.
“He has a heartbeat.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. The man seemed alive, if unconscious. He breathed in, smelling the strong smell of liquor. The earl was breathing, but slow, shallow breaths and Sebastian wanted to cry in relief. He wasn’t dead—he had most likely just passed out.
“Help me move him,” he called out to the group of people who lingered nearby. Two men stepped forward, one of them the tall, slim man who had explained earlier. They dragged the body over to the shelter of a nearby tree. As Sebastian stood up, he tensed. He could hear someone shouting.
“What in the world?” The sound echoed over the terrace. It was his father. Sebastian felt sick. His stomach twisted as his father’s voice continued in a roar. “What is wrong with Lord Emerton, there?”
Sebastian stiffened. “He’s fine,” he told his father, who stalked across the lawn, his tall form bent over. “He’s just...well...he fell. Not too far,” he admitted. He looked into his father’s eyes. Dark, like his own, they were slit with rage.
“You let the Regent’s cousin fall? What did he fall off? Does he still breathe?” Papa demanded. Sebastian drew a breath. His father had always been indulgent, but his rage was a terrible thing. He felt his cheeks redden with shame.
“He is still living,” he managed to say. “I will summon a physician to assess him. I believe...I believe he is just unconscious.” He looked away, not wanting to see the rage in his father’s eyes.
“This has gone too far.”
“I know,” Sebastian murmured. He looked around. Even in his own mind, he had started to realize that. The parties, with their loud laughter and outrageous guests, had not appealed to him for the last two days. He had gone too far, and he knew it.He looked around. “Wait a moment, Papa,” he murmured.
“I’m not moving,” his father answered.
Sebastian breathed in a sigh. He might be one-and-thirty, but Papa was still in charge of the estate, his own title of Earl of Glenfield and all the estates and privileges were just a courtesy granted him as the Marquess of Ramsgate’s eldest child. He waved his hands, trying to get the people to listen.
“Everyone! We need to return home. The Earl of Emerton lives, but the physician needs to be summoned to tend him. I would appreciate it if you could all retire to your homes.”
He repeated the message several times, until even the most inebriated guest was helped from the lodge by his friends. Then he turned to his father.
“It’s time you settled down, son,” his father murmured wearily.
“Papa...” Sebastian felt his hands tense at his sides. This was an argument he and his father had had several times in the last year. He didn’t want to hear it at this moment, with the shock of the earl’s accident still running like fire in his blood.
“No, son. I mean it. It’s not just...not just because of incidents like today. It’s for you. For me. I’m old. I’m not well.” His face—so like Sebastian’s own—was gray with weariness this close up, and haggard with lack of sleep. Gout plagued the older man, and he was often short of breath. Sebastian felt his heart twist with pain.
“Please, Papa. Don’t talk about...about...” he didn’t want to say it. Papa had been his only parent—his only companion in the world, besides Matthew. His mother died a few days after his birth, and he and Papa had become exceptionally close. Papa was his only family. He could not lose his father.
“Son, I know. But it’s a fact. I’m old and I’m not well. I don’t want to die before I see my grandchild. Please, son. I want you to do this for me. In fact, I’m telling you to do this for me. I wantyou to find a wife. I’m giving you a year. By this time, next year, you will be wed. Or else.”
“Or else?” Sebastian swallowed hard.
The old Marquess smiled; his dark eyes lined in wrinkles. In so many ways, they were exactly like Sebastian’s own. “Or else I’ll find you one, son. Think on it.”
Sebastian let out a breath. “Yes, Papa,” he murmured. He looked around. Servants had already begun to tidy up, moving tables and chairs back into the house, tidying up the terrace. The earl had been moved inside, and the physician’s cart was halted on the front lawn. He let out a long breath. It could have been worse. He was lucky—and he was lucky his father was not furious.
His father smiled again and sighed, turning towards him. “Good, son. I know you can do it.”
Sebastian felt his heart twist. “I’ll do my best, Papa,” he promised. He felt sick.
He heard his father limp indoors, and he stayed where he was. The lawns were dark under the night sky, which was midnight blue over black shadows of the trees. The air still smelled like dew and somewhere nearby the stream was audible again, babbling in the still night. He took a deep breath.
Life at the hunting estate might have become tiresome, but how much more tiresome would it be, shackled to a dull, uninteresting woman? Papa certainly wanted him to marry someone respectable—and respectable meant dull and ordinary. It would be horrid, being tied down into a respectable, boring, ordinary life.
Anyone Papa found would be tiresome and proper. And he just didn’t think he could share his life with such a person. No, someone in his world had to be lively and bold. And whoever Papa found was certainly not going to be like that. He was almost certain of it.
Chapter 1
