A Little Bit Sinful (29 page)

“Revenge.” Sebastian spat the word out with all the fiery loathing he felt deep down inside.

“For what? I don’t know you,” the earl protested.

“You knew my mother,” Sebastian said harshly. “Or have you forgotten?”

A short silence fell. The earl’s face twisted and a haunted look flashed through his eyes. “I remember the countess. You probably won’t believe it, but I always regretted that things between us ended badly.”

“Badly? Your heartless neglect brought about her unnecessary death. And for that you will at long last be held accountable.”

The earl’s mood abruptly shifted and he made a sound of confusion. “If you meant to challenge me to a duel, you would have done so years ago.”

“Circumstances prevented it. Besides, I would never sully my mother’s honorable reputation by revealing how you took advantage of her vulnerability.”

The earl’s eyes lit with dawning understanding. “Ah, so instead you have ruined my daughter’s reputation, in order to force the issue. Clever.”

Sebastian commanded himself not to react, not to betray his true emotions. Hearing it said so succinctly made him feel like an utter cad.
Christ, I am no better than Hetfield, toying with an innocent woman’s feelings.
He risked another glance at Eleanor. The
shock on her face, the anguish in her eyes cut him to the quick, but he ignored her and pressed on, the need for revenge supplanting all other emotions.

“Lady Eleanor’s reputation is not yet sacrificed, since no one else is aware of this incident. Choose your weapons and name your seconds, Hetfield,” Sebastian said, fixing the older man with a hard stare. “If we meet on Hampstead Heath tomorrow at dawn, I swear to never reveal what has happened. Your family’s honor will be saved, no matter what the outcome of our duel.”

Abruptly, the earl’s casual air fell away. “You cannot be serious.”

Sebastian cast him a look of disgust. “If not tomorrow, then the following day. That is the most time I will allow.”

“And if I refuse to participate in this little melodrama you’ve so carefully concocted?”

A vein throbbed in Sebastian’s forehead. “You already know what will happen.”

“Oh, yes, you will tell everyone of your scandalous affair with my unmarried daughter.” The earl tugged on the cuff of his jacket, then brushed a small piece of lint from the sleeve. “Go right ahead and make your announcement. Take an ad out in the
Times
if you’d like.”

Sebastian’s jaw dropped.

“I’m calling your bluff, Benton.”

Sebastian’s gut tightened with a hard twist. “I’m not bluffing.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” The earl shrugged, his disinterest clear. “Either way, it matters very little to me. If you ruin Eleanor, I shall disown her, banishing
her from my home and family. The scandal will barely graze me. If Waverly becomes squeamish about it and forsakes Bianca, she will marry Farley and I will receive a sizable settlement from him.

“If you say nothing, well, I have yet to decide on a suitable punishment for the witless Eleanor. Either way, I refuse to issue a challenge, refuse to engage in a duel with you for any reason, under any circumstance.”

For an instant Eleanor’s surroundings faded to nothing. Surely she had misheard. Of course she had. Sebastian would never have planned and plotted all of this in order to exact some sort of revenge against the earl. No, that couldn’t possibly be correct.

Sebastian liked her. Her clever wit, her intelligent conversation, her staunch opinions. He cared for her. Considered her feelings, her wishes, her desires. He wanted to be with her. To cherish her, protect her, keep her safe. They were going to be married, by special license, here in his boyhood home, by the family vicar.

He had made love to her last night. Several times. And in the early morning too. Tenderly, reverently, with passion and love. It had been glorious, wonderful, more than she could ever have imagined, ever hoped.

It was all a lie. A cruel, vengeful lie.

Eleanor struggled to concentrate, to hear what else was being said, but a ringing began in her ears. Her knees felt weak and she realized if she continued to stand she was going to collapse. Hand over
hand she clutched the end of the sideboard and slowly made her way to the brocade settee. Sinking down into its softness, she focused on remaining upright, trying to shake the numbness from her body.

The tension in the room was oppressive. Eleanor folded her arms tightly and ran her hands vigorously over her upper arms. She felt cold down to the marrow of her bones, ill with shock. Her body ached, but it was her heart, her bruised and broken heart, that pained her most.

Lies, it was all lies.

The man who had made love to her repeatedly last night, who had held her close, worshipped her body with his own, brought her such tremendous joy, had betrayed her. It had all been a deliberate manipulation, a deceit that would enable him to settle a score with her father.

Leave! Rise to your feet, turn toward the door, and walk away.

The command screamed silently in her head, yet she was paralyzed, rooted to the spot. Forced to endure the embarrassment and humiliation that was clawing at the final vestiges of her shattered pride.

What was the earl saying? Her dazed mind struggled to separate the words from the emotions, to listen and comprehend.

They were arguing. Over her. No, over their duel. A duel her father refused to accept. After all, her honor was worth nothing to him. She was worth nothing to him.

Eleanor pressed a fist to her mouth to keep from making any sound. The agony inside her was threatening to slice her in half. Battling back her tears,
she clutched at her chest, pressing hard against the aching pain.

With Herculean effort she managed to stand. Harshly commanding herself to move, she managed to put one foot in front of the other and finally made her escape.

Neither Sebastian nor the earl attempted to stop her. Honestly, she doubted either of them even noticed she was gone.

Seething with anger and frustration, Sebastian watched Hetfield pull on his leather gloves with slow deliberation. The revenge he had so carefully planned, had so meticulously calculated, was crumbling to dust and there was nothing he could do to salvage it.

The anger inside him was quickly turning to helplessness. The earl was leaving. What now?

“Hetfield!”

The earl turned, his expression bored. The anger simmering inside Sebastian rekindled. White-hot anger. For the way the earl had so callously treated his mother, for the disregard he had showed Eleanor, for the injustice that would forever go unpunished.

“It’s over, Benton. Take my advice. Be a gentleman and forget it.”

The words, spoken in such a smug, cavalier tone broke Sebastian’s temper. Rushing forward, he planted his fist in Hetfield’s stomach. The earl let out a muffled sound, then doubled over as the air was knocked out of him. Waiting only until Hetfield
had straightened, Sebastian jabbed with his right hand and smashed his fist into the earl’s jaw.

The earl staggered backward and fell to the floor. The drawing room door burst open at the commotion. Two bewildered footmen entered, each staring in astonishment at the older man prone on the carpet, then at Sebastian.

“Lord Hetfield is leaving,” Sebastian announced, flexing his fist. The knuckles were red and bruised. “Please escort him to his carriage.”

The footmen ran to help the earl to his feet. Once standing, he shrugged the servants away, then reached up to wipe away a trickle of blood from his cheekbone. “Though I admit no wrongdoing of any kind, I shall allow that to pass.”

“Pity. I was hoping you’d take a swing at me so I could lay you flat on your back again,” Sebastian replied in an icy tone.

A muscle jumped in the earl’s jaw, but he said nothing. Turning with a huff, he strode out of the drawing room, flanked on each side by a footman.

The moment he was alone, Sebastian sagged against a chair. Punching Hetfield had felt good, a momentary release of frustration and anger and pain, but it had faded quickly, leaving him with a hollow feeling of regret and a nagging sense of failure.

The earl was a malicious bastard, lacking both honor and conscience. His treatment of Sebastian’s mother had been unforgivable, yet his treatment of his daughter was not much better. Learning how little regard her father had for her must have been devastating to hear, a pain she certainly did not deserve.

Oh, Eleanor! Mired in guilt, Sebastian turned to face her, then realized she was gone.

The clock ticked loudly, each second feeling like an hour. Eleanor sat quietly in the wingback chair of her bedchamber, her packed portmanteau resting at her feet. The sound of footsteps in the outside corridor momentarily roused her from her stupor and her heart skipped as the door opened.

Summoning her courage from the depths of her pain, Eleanor lifted her head, steeling herself. Sebastian stood in front of her, staring at her with deep emotion stark in his eyes, a combination of detachment and desolation.

Furiously, Eleanor blinked back her tears. There was no time to indulge them. She had to be on her guard for what was to come.

“I wasn’t sure where you were,” he said quietly.

She linked her hands together to stop them from trembling. “Is the earl gone?”

“Yes.”

“Will there be a duel?”

“No. He refused.”

Sebastian looked so defeated she might have felt an ounce of sympathy for him if her heart was not frozen with the pain of betrayal.

“I too will soon be gone, but I couldn’t leave without asking you. Why?”

Thankfully he did not pretend to misunderstand. “The earl had an affair with my mother, I believe shortly after he became a widower. She found herself with child and he refused her any aid. In
desperation she hung herself. I was the one who discovered her lifeless body.”

Eleanor shuddered. It was even more heinous than she had suspected. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“Too young to exact your revenge. Yet why have you waited so long?”

“I promised my grandmother I would not confront the earl. When she died a few months ago I was at last free to pursue justice.”

“Were you going to kill him?”

Sebastian shrugged. “The potential to inflict a fatal wound always exists with swords or pistols. I confess I would not have felt any remorse if I landed a mortal blow.”

A part of her understood his bloodthirsty need, given what her father had done, but she could never condone his methods. “Unfortunately, the earl thwarted your clever plan rather neatly, did he not? I realize now Bianca was your original target. That was what you intended, wasn’t it, to ruin my younger sister?”

Sebastian gave a curt nod and she continued.

“You know, it might have ended differently if you had used Bianca. I believe my father has a very marginal regard for her, but more important, she is of greater value to him. He brought her here to make a profitable marriage, and embroiling her in such a sordid scandal would have made that difficult.

“Then again, he might have thrown her to the wolves as he has done with me. If not Viscount Farley, he would have found someone willing to pay for the privilege of marrying an earl’s daughter. You see, he is not bound by any rules except his own.
Nor does he possess a gentleman’s code of honor. A trait you share with him.”

She knew it would gall Sebastian to be compared to his enemy, but she could not resist saying it.

He glanced away. “I know my actions cannot be excused by explaining the past, but I am truly sorry for what I have done. I never meant to hurt you. I promise that I shall do everything in my power to protect and guard your reputation.”

She let out a hollow laugh, clenching her fingers together so tightly it hurt. “‘Tis a bit too late for that, my lord.”

His mouth thinned. “Maybe not. Only you and I and the earl know that you stayed here last night.”

Reputation be damned! It was her heart that was in ruins. Could he not see it?

“I don’t care a fig about society’s opinion of me,” she stated emphatically, “except that my stupidity might harm Bianca. I would never forgive myself if she suffered because I’m such a gullible simpleton, easily duped by a bit of male attention and flattery. It must have been so amusing for you to watch the dull, plain spinster make a fool of herself, though Lord knows how you found the stomach to kiss me.”

He winced. “On the contrary. Kissing you has always been the greatest of pleasures.” He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “I knew it was wrong, but I swear, Eleanor, you must believe me when I tell you that though I tried, I was unable to resist you.”

A twinge of guilt cramped her stomach. She could not lay the blame entirely at his feet for their physical relationship. He had left her alone in her
bedchamber last night—she was the one who had pressed the issue, had essentially seduced him.

“Yes, I made it impossible for you to turn me away,” she admitted dully, the sorrow slicing through her like a cold, damp wind. “Coming to your chamber last night, behaving like a whore.”

He visibly flinched. “My God, it wasn’t like that, Eleanor.”

Her heart stirred at the pain in his voice and she cursed herself for being twice a fool. “Wasn’t it?”

“No, never. Making love to you was beautiful, perfect. A memory I shall long treasure, though I realize I haven’t the right.”

He sent her a look of such regret and tenderness she nearly lost the thin thread of her composure. Her bruised heart curled in wariness and she knew she couldn’t let herself think or feel or else all would be lost.

Abruptly she stood. “I’m leaving.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not certain,” she whispered, fear shimmering through her. She could not return to London. The country was a possible destination, but would she be able to live at the family manor with such uncertainty, knowing at any moment the earl might appear and toss her out?

At length, she drew a deep breath, then straightened her shoulders. “All I do know is that I refuse to wallow in self-pity and remorse for the rest of my days. You aren’t worth it.”