A Little Bit Sinful (21 page)

Eleanor slowly lowered her spoon. She was not
doing
anything. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I know.” He shifted in his chair, wincing slightly. “That makes it even more maddening.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to change the subject?”

“My dearest Eleanor, I am attempting to save my dignity. This has nothing to do with your insane request regarding a husband for your sister.”

Still not convinced, she leaned forward in her chair. Tilting her head, Eleanor glanced nonchalantly down at his lap. The bulge there was impressive and unmistakable, tenting the front of his breeches. He was unquestionably aroused.
At the sight of me eating an ice?

“Oh my,” she whispered.

“Oh my, indeed.” He cleared his throat loudly and shifted once again. “Though I maintain your request for my assistance is illogical and bizarre, discussing matrimony will no doubt help to … uhm … deflate my current predicament.”

She grinned shyly. It was foolish to feel flattered, yet Eleanor did. But she was also aware that she had waded into a situation quite out of her depth. Uncertain how to react in public to Sebastian’s lingering looks, she picked up the thread of conversation.

“Lord Waverly has shown considerable interest in Bianca, but I was told he did the same last Season with another debutante, yet did not offer for the girl.”

“I can’t recall, but that’s hardly surprising. Matrimonial gossip has never been a keen interest of mine.” A ghost of a smile touched Sebastian’s lips. “Waverly’s a decent sort. Good family, though his older sister is a high-strung female with a grating voice. Can’t count that against him, poor fellow. He holds his liquor, doesn’t gamble too deep in the pockets, pays his debts on time. I suppose he’d make an adequate husband.”

“Adequate?” Eleanor frowned. “I want to find someone for Bianca who is kind and of good character. Someone who will appreciate her not only for her physical beauty but for her tender heart. Someone who will protect and cherish her. A strong man who is not a bully, but who has the fortitude and courage to stand up to the earl.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t know Waverly all that well. He could be a good choice.”

“He could,” Eleanor agreed. “If Bianca decides
she truly wants him. But it must be her choice. She’s had so little exposure to gentlemen, I worry it won’t be easy for her to make a decision.” Eleanor frowned, remembering how enamored Bianca had been with the pompous Mr. Smyth back home.

“Bianca is a lovely girl,” Sebastian said. “I’m sure there are scores of eligible bachelors beating a path to your doorstep.”

“Thankfully, the numbers are growing. I believe your initial interest in her kept them pitifully small when we first arrived in Town.”

Tiny frown lines appeared in Sebastian’s brow. “Are you saying I scared them all away?”

“Stop looking so smug. I’m certain it was an unintentional result.”

Sebastian’s chest visibly inflated. Eleanor hid her smile. A man’s pride was a powerful thing. “So, will you help me?” she asked. He fixed her with a look of speculative appraisal. “Honestly, it makes me shudder to even contemplate trapping some poor, unsuspecting gentleman in a parson’s mousetrap. Most unsporting.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, we are not trapping anyone,” Eleanor protested, her cheeks turning pink. “Besides, I thought you were a secret romantic.”

“Romantic perhaps, but I am not witless.” Sebastian’s teeth flashed a wicked grin. “What is my reward if I decide to offer you assistance?”

“The satisfaction of knowing you have done a good turn for someone,” Eleanor answered promptly. He sent her a narrow-eyed glare. “Try again.” “My sincerest gratitude?” she ventured. He drummed his fingers rapidly on the table. “How sincere?”

Her eyes softened. “Let’s just say you won’t be disappointed.”

“Promise?”

“My word of honor.”

He thrust his hand out. “Agreed.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes. He laughed and wiggled the fingers on his extended hand at her. Realizing he wasn’t going to stop until she took it, she placed her right hand in his and shook, believing she had made a good bargain.

Eleanor was in desperate need of some insight to these men and she firmly believed Sebastian was the one to provide it. Strange how she had come to trust him in so short a time. Well, on certain matters.

“What do you know about Sir Reginald Black?” Eleanor asked, pulling her hand back.

Sebastian sobered. “Bit of a hellraiser. Very fond of cards, dice, and any other games of chance. He once placed a wager in the betting book at White’s as to how many ladies would be wearing gowns of periwinkle blue at his sister’s coming-out ball.”

Eleanor’s nostrils flared. “That
is
rather extreme.”

Sebastian nodded. “Funny thing is, he won the bet. Took in over a hundred guineas from several grumbling gentlemen. Does that make it any better?”

“That he won? Goodness, no. He’s off the list. The last thing Bianca needs to cope with is another gamester.”

“Another?” Sebastian raised his brow.

Eleanor waved her hand dismissively, evading the question. She did not want to discuss her father.
“What about Sir Mark Frost? He’s very handsome and seems to be a congenial type.”

Sebastian groaned. “His conversation is hardly stimulating. All the man ever talks about is his horses and the crops he is growing on his estate. He has a peculiar obsession with yields, rotations, and the best soil for various plants. Rather frightening, really.”

Eleanor sighed. “I hadn’t realized. I thought my living in the country spurred that particular topic of conversation when we met last week. Pity, he’s the right age for Bianca. And very good-looking.”

Sebastian suddenly grew still. “You think he’s handsome?”

“Devilishly so.” Eleanor grinned saucily, liking the sound of jealousy in the viscount’s tone. “Though he has more of an angelic look with all that curly blond hair.”

“He’s a bit soft for a man who spends so much of his time outdoors,” Sebastian added, but Eleanor had already eliminated Sir Mark from the list.

“Who is that young man standing near the doorway?” she asked.

Sebastian obligingly turned toward the door. “That’s Robert Bywater. He’ll inherit a fortune one day, but I’m afraid that’s really all there is to recommend him.”

“Oh?” Eleanor’s interest was certainly piqued upon hearing of his wealth. “He looks like a perfectly fine young gentleman.”

Sebastian smiled. “He’s a nice enough fellow, I suppose, but rather dim. No, exceedingly dim. If he married Bianca they would have beautiful children
that alas would lack the wits to keep themselves out of their own way.”

“You exaggerate.”

“Most certainly not. Look for yourself; he’s standing at the wrong end of the line.”

She leaned to her left to see around the viscount and discovered Mr. Bywater was indeed in the incorrect position to place an order. Eleanor sighed. “Heavens, that won’t do, now will it?”

“Face it, ma’am, you have landed the prime matrimonial catch of the season.” Sebastian folded his arms across his chest and gave her a self-satisfied grin. “Me.”

Eleanor swallowed hard. She was never exactly certain what to make of him when he uttered those kinds of comments. His sexual aggression toward her was obvious, yet he most certainly was not conducting a traditional courtship.

Though her heart quickened when she recalled the package delivered the morning after their sensual night in the Tauntons’ library. A rare antique, leather-bound edition of
Le Morte d’Arthur
along with a single, perfect white rose. There was no note accompanying these romantic gifts, yet none was needed.

Sebastian flirted with her, cast her sensual stares, teased her, and did everything possible to make her laugh. He kissed her senseless at every opportunity but always stopped before their encounters went too far. He took pains to imply his interest in her was honorable, but he was equally honest about the truth of his roguish reputation.

He never spoke specifically of marriage, never stated firmly his intentions to make her his wife.
Eleanor truly had no notion of what he was thinking and she was practical enough to realize Sebastian might not have marriage on his mind.

He very well might have decided he wanted her for his mistress.

The very idea should have shocked her, insulted her. She was a virtuous woman, the daughter of an earl, a woman worthy of every regard and consideration. Dictates of society insisted that marriage was the only honorable course open to her if she wanted a physical relationship with a man.

Yet privately, she was not as inclined to follow society’s rules as she once had been. Eleanor briefly closed her eyes and felt her world spin around her. Had she just talked herself into becoming Sebastian’s mistress? When he hadn’t even asked?

“Eleanor, where have you gone?” he whispered.

Her eyes flew open. Embarrassed, she glanced around, but no one seemed to have taken any notice. “Forgive me. My thoughts overtook my manners.”

“Judging by your blush, they must have been very naughty. Were you thinking of me?” he asked, a hopeful look crossing his face.

She laughed nervously. “I was thinking of Bianca’s future husband and imagining a happily ever after for her.”

“What about your dreams? Your happiness?”

Eleanor hesitated. “I am far too practical to be waiting for my prince to come along.”

Sebastian barked with laughter. “I should hope not. The Regent is possibly the most decadent man in all of Britain. He would never do as a husband for you.”

Who would? You?
Eleanor wished she had the nerve, and the confidence, to ask him. “We are not speaking of me. We are talking about my sister. I fear if I don’t find her someone to marry, our father will.”

His eyes searched hers. She tried to remain serene, not wanting to give too much away. The earl was her private demon.

“Don’t you have confidence in your father’s wisdom?”

“No.” The word slipped out before she could silence herself. Irritated, Eleanor ate the last spoonful of her ice. “All finished,” she announced, forcing a bright smile. She stood. Sebastian also rose.

“Would you care for another ice?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I would, however, like to stroll down by the Serpentine in the park. We can admire the swans and dissect the characters of the single gentlemen.”

She sensed he wanted to protest, to probe deeper into her comment about the earl. Thankfully, her pleading expression persuaded him to drop the matter, for he grinned suddenly, offered her his arm, and said, “Whatever my lady desires.”

Later that evening Sebastian entered his club. He was looking forward to reading the newspaper and eating a quiet supper before venturing out on his own for the night. Before leaving Eleanor this afternoon he discovered she would be attending the Wardsworths’ dinner party, an invitation he had already declined.

After a moment’s consideration, Sebastian determined
it would be better if he didn’t see her again tonight. He was walking a fine line but overall felt things were progressing nicely. Eleanor was becoming more and more infatuated with him, more relaxed, more eager for his company. He knew it was crucial that he not be too obvious in his pursuit, yet he needed to remain vigilant for any opportunities to advance his position.

Her comment about the earl intrigued him, but her tight-lipped expression told him in no uncertain terms it was a subject that was not to be broached. Pity, since that might have gained him insight to his enemy.

Sebastian had just placed his drink and supper order when he spied the Duke of Hansborough ensconced in a leather wingback chair near the fireplace, a newspaper opened in his lap. Striding over, he took the empty seat next to the older man, cleared his throat loudly, and waited to be acknowledged.

“Benton.”

“Your Grace.” Sebastian inclined his head. “I have not had the opportunity to thank you for your assistance at the ball the other night. I am grateful for your intervention.”

The duke snorted and rustled his newspaper.

Sebastian cleared his throat again and continued. “The situation got quite out of control when—”

The duke held up his hand. “Please, spare me what I have no doubt is a fascinating, fictional tale. You asked for my help and I gave it, but I didn’t do it entirely for your sake, Benton. I did it for the lady as well.”

“Thank you nonetheless.”

“She deserves better,” the duke grumbled.

Sebastian grinned mockingly. “On that point we are in complete agreement.”

The duke slowly lowered his paper, then fixed Sebastian with a steady look. “Lady Eleanor’s falling in love with you and she’s not the only one. Open your eyes and button your breeches. This sort of behavior might have been tolerable when you were a green lad, but you’re a man now. ‘Tis not only bad form, but cruel to leave a string of broken hearts in your wake.”

Sebastian suddenly felt cold.
A string of broken hearts?
“I don’t know what you are trying to say.”

The duke tilted his head and met Sebastian’s eyes squarely. “Think about it. You’re not an imbecile, though you certainly play the part well at times.”

Sebastian frowned, wanting to ask more, yet almost afraid of what he would hear. But apparently the duke had finished lecturing him. He picked up the newspaper and snapped it crisply in front of him, effectively dismissing Sebastian. Further words were an impossibility.

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

Sebastian made his bow and left. Yet the duke’s words haunted him as he ate his supper and Sebastian feared the grains of truth buried in the statement.

Late the following morning, Eleanor accompanied Bianca to the fan maker and after that, the dressmaker. Eleanor was hardly in the best of moods. Sebastian had not appeared at the dinner party last night and she missed him more than she could say. Without him, there had been no one of interest to converse with, no one to tease, flirt with,
and laugh with her. It had been an exceedingly dull evening.

There were only two other customers when Eleanor and Bianca entered the dress shop. The proprietress, Madame Claudette, excused herself the moment they entered the establishment and hurried over, a welcoming smile upon her face.