After the Abduction (32 page)

He swallowed down the sudden bile rising in his throat as several little niggling details loomed in his mind. Rosalind and Templemore returning from a cozy ride in a sleigh. Them whispering together one day in a corner when they’d thought he wasn’t looking.

Templemore’s father had been known for preying on married women, after all.

He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t even think it. Rosalind would never be unfaithful to him. She wouldn’t.

But that didn’t mean she mightn’t be a bit enamored of the fellow. After all, Templemore possessed that courtly manner toward women that Griff had never managed to acquire. He lacked Griff’s explosive temper. And he always paid attention to what Rosalind said, unlike most men of their acquaintance.

Griff winced. He hadn’t paid enough attention to her of late, too wrapped up in his business affairs. Besides, it had been hard to be around her, knowing that he couldn’t give her the child she desperately wanted. So he’d buried himself in his work. He’d told himself he’d do better once he settled this matter of finding Juliet’s abductor.

How could he have been so blind? Rosalind wasn’t the sort of woman one neglected with impunity. Could she have found in Templemore a companion who’d pay her heed when her husband was not around? And how long would it be before friendship turned to something else? Especially if they were meeting in secret at some cottage…

No, he couldn’t bear to think of that.

“Rosalind,” he whispered, slipping his arm about her waist, needing to touch her. “Are you happy?”

She gazed at him with a bemused smile. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem…very distracted lately.”

Twisting around to face him, she looped her arms about his neck. “That’s because you’re always distracting me.”

Her teasing smile and sensual glances were the same as ever. And when she pressed her ample breasts up against him, the band constricting his heart eased a little. Perhaps he was imagining all this secrecy. Nothing was wrong. He was being absurd.

All the same, he wouldn’t feel safe until he had her far away from Templemore.

Chapter 19

Any man can make mistakes,
but only an idiot persists in his error.

Cicero’s
Philipics,
worked on a hanging by Juliet after her disastrous elopement

M
idmorning on the second day after Juliet’s departure, Sebastian stood on the west lawn with a pistol in hand. Could it really have been only two days? It seemed like more. Especially when he spent them wearing himself out beating brass into casings and silver into facings. And spent the nights sleeping at the cottage to avoid his bleak, cold bed at Charnwood.

Not that the cottage was much better, with her lilac scent still fragrant on the pillows. Last night he’d found a long golden hair tangled in the sheets, and only a stern self-lecture had prevented his tucking it away somewhere for a deuced keepsake. What insanity. His craving for her should have lessened once she was gone. But if anything, it had increased.

And now this.

He was so busy loading that he didn’t hear footsteps approach. Only the scent of Russian Oil alerted him to his uncle’s arrival.

“You sent for me?” Uncle Lew asked.

“Yes.” Sebastian sighted down the pistol and fired. This one wouldn’t do—it pulled a little to the right. He’d forgotten about that. He set it with the other two unacceptable pistols. “I’m leaving for London as soon as the trunks are loaded in the carriage and I’ve finished choosing a dueling pistol.”

“A dueling pistol! Whyever would you need that?”

“It’s just a precaution. I don’t know what I’ll have to deal with in town.”

“Surely you are not expecting to face Knighton on the dueling field!”

“No.” He took up the next pistol. “But I don’t know who else I’ll have to face.”

“What in God’s name do you mean?”

Reaching inside his coat pocket, Sebastian withdrew a torn out piece of newspaper and handed it to his uncle. “Read the column headed ‘Secret Elopement.’ It was in this morning’s paper.”

It took his uncle mere seconds to scan it. “Bloody hell,” he said softly.

“Yes.” His voice was laced with self-loathing. “I didn’t believe Juliet when she said the gossip might spread. I thought it was just a little misinformation circulating among servants, that it would go away. After all, if someone had known the truth from the beginning, what reason could they have for coming out with it now? And if they hadn’t known it—well, I didn’t see how they could suddenly stumble upon it after two years.” He checked the pistol’s flint, then added grimly, “But I was wrong.”

His uncle laid a hand on his arm. “It’s not your fault.
Even the Knightons said the rumors were vague rumblings.”

“That article is more than vague rumblings. It states quite clearly that Juliet is believed to have eloped at eighteen and then been abandoned by her ‘suitor.’” He gritted his teeth. “At least they said ‘suitor’ instead of ‘lover.’ Though I’m sure that’s what they’re calling me in society. God only knows what they’re calling
her.
This paper is three days old, so there’s been plenty of time for the nastiness to progress.”

Deuce take it! Lifting the pistol, he fired at the target, but only the click of the empty gun sounded on the lawn.

“I believe you have to reload after each shot, my boy,” Uncle Lew said softly.

Only half aware of his uncle’s remark, he whirled to face him. “By now, they’re tearing her apart for the sheer pleasure of it. She’ll be ostracized by everyone, spoken of with contempt, treated like a whore—”

“Come now, Sebastian, surely it will not be that bad. Knighton will not let it progress that far.”

“How can he stop it?” He rubbed his pounding temple. “And it worries me that the rumor is so close to the truth. What if someone stumbled across the entire story and has set out purposely to ruin her reputation? A spurned suitor perhaps, or some enemy of Knighton’s? What if it’s an act of deliberate malice?”

The possibility had tormented him all morning as he’d prepared to leave. Though the Knightons couldn’t have reached London yet, they soon would. When they did…

His mind conjured up nasty images of Juliet being shunned or forced to defend her actions publicly or groped by men who thought her a loose woman because of the rumors.

“What will you do in London?” his uncle asked.

“I don’t know. First I’ll have to find out who started the gossip and why. Then I’ll deal with it as best I can.”

“And Morgan? What if he shows up here while you are gone?”

“You’ll have to take care of it. He doesn’t need us both looking out for him. Write to me in London if he arrives before I return, and I’ll…” He trailed off. He didn’t know what he’d do. For God’s sake, he didn’t even know what to expect in London. He only knew he had to go. He’d promised her to take care of any gossip, yet he’d let her go off without making any provision for it.

He’d never forgive himself for that.

“Sebastian, I wanted to ask as soon as I heard that the Knightons had gone, but since Boggs said you were too busy to see me, and I did not like to pry—”

Sebastian raised one eyebrow.

His uncle smiled wryly. “All right, so that never stopped me before. But you have never been too busy to see me before. I figured you would tell me on your own eventually. Indeed, that is why I thought you had sent for me this morning, and—”

“What is it you wanted to ask, Uncle?” he said impatiently.

“What happened between you and Lady Juliet that sent them all running?”

Sebastian concentrated on loading the pistol. “I asked her to marry me.”

His uncle sucked in a breath. “Ah. And she did not like the idea?”

“Actually, she accepted my offer. But she had some demands I couldn’t meet.”

“Demands? What—” Comprehension dawned in his face. “Oh, I suppose she wanted you to tell her the truth.”

“No. I’d already done that.”

“You had?” his uncle said disbelievingly.

“The day she left. I told her everything and asked her to marry me. She said she would. But when we began to discuss her family—” He broke off, his gut twisting as he re
membered. “She demanded that I go to Knighton with the truth. I explained that I couldn’t risk Knighton’s interference, that I had to wait until Morgan returned before I could reveal all. Then she told me some nonsense about not wanting to start our marriage with a lie. She said she’d marry me only after I came clean. Then she and the Knightons headed off for London.”

With a sigh, his uncle took a seat at the nearby table. “I suppose it makes sense that she would react that way—given her past and her relationship with her family.”

Sebastian’s gaze shot to Uncle Lew. “What do you mean?”

“Come now, my boy. You have seen how they treat her—like a child who must be protected for fear she will blunder again. The poor girl lived in the shadow of her older sisters all her life, and then she did something that forever cemented their opinion of her. Finally, she has the chance to prove that her behavior wasn’t so awful, was even understandable, and you tell her that she can’t. You offered her marriage, but refused to take her side with her family. How did you expect her to react?”

He hadn’t looked at it like that. “You think I was wrong to refuse her demands.”

“Not at all. You were being cautious. And with matters as they are, caution is warranted. I am merely pointing out how she probably saw it.” His uncle drew out his snuffbox. “How do you know she will not tell her family herself?”

He stared off into the woods, but saw only eyes that glinted amber and green, regarding him with understanding and ready forgiveness. Until he’d gone and spoiled everything. “She promised she wouldn’t, said it was my place to do it. I trust her to keep her word.”

“She must care a great deal for you if she is willing to shield you from them.”

“Yes, a great deal,” he said sarcastically. “That’s why she hied herself off to London instead of marrying me.”

His uncle dipped some snuff. “If you do not mind me asking, what did you tell her when you proposed?”

He shrugged. “That I wanted to marry her, that I was attracted to her. That I thought she’d make me a very good wife.”

“No doubt she positively swooned at that.” Uncle Lew sniffed a pinch of snuff. “Didn’t you tell her you love her?”

Sebastian stiffened. There was that blasted word again. “Love has nothing to do with it. You know what I think about that reckless emotion, and so does she. We talked about it, and she accepted that I…have no interest in love. That is, until I refused to bare my soul for her vengeance-mad family.”

“No woman likes to hear that the man she cares for doesn’t love her.”

“Well, she’ll never hear otherwise.” He tightened his grip on the pistol. “Especially since she’s only using such talk to make me come to heel. I shall
not
run after a dream of love like my mother. And I won’t follow in Father’s footsteps, either.”

“Too late for that.” Uncle Lew eyed Sebastian speculatively. “You’re already more like your father than you realize.”

With a snort, Sebastian sighted down his gun. “That’s absurd. He was a rake who fell in love indiscriminately, and I’m nearly a monk.”

“Ah, my dear boy, what your father felt had nothing to do with love, no matter what he called it. It was infatuation, pure and simple, a childish emotion that disappeared whenever his dalliances became serious. I doubt he was ever in love. He feared it too much to experience it. As do you.”

He lowered the pistol to stare at his uncle. “What the devil are you talking about? I don’t fear a deuced thing.”

“Oh yes, you do. That’s why you avoid it. Your father avoided love by immersing himself in meaningless passionate encounters. You avoid love—or have until now—
by eschewing passionate encounters altogether. But in the end, you both miss experiencing the one emotion that makes life worth living.”

The ring of truth in his uncle’s words made him lash out. “Did having love make
your
life worth living? Even after the one you loved left you behind to mourn her for the rest of your life?”

He regretted the cruel words almost as soon as he said them, especially when pain flashed briefly in his uncle’s eyes. But then it was gone and Uncle Lew smiled. “If I had been given the choice of one day with your aunt or a lifetime without her, I would have gladly chosen the one day with her.”

The radiant adoration in his uncle’s face roused an aching envy in Sebastian’s chest. Envy? That was absurd. Why would he want such an all-encompassing emotion dictating his actions to him? Something he wasn’t even sure he understood? And he certainly didn’t fear it. His uncle was wrong. Completely wrong.

Uncle Lew sighed. “What I am trying to say is do not let your pride—or fear of losing control—stand in the way of love. Both are cold comfort when a man is alone. So think carefully before you refuse love when it is offered. Because no one knows better than I that a true, abiding love does not come along very often in a man’s life.”

The side door to the house suddenly opened, and Simpkins stepped outside. “My lord? The carriage is ready.”

“Thank you, Simpkins. I’ll be there shortly.” Lifting the pistol again, Sebastian fired into the target and hit dead on. This one would do very nicely. He cleaned the gun swiftly, then set it in the dueling case.

“So you’re off to London then,” his uncle said, a tinge of alarm in his voice.

“Yes.”

“Do you intend to meet Lady Juliet’s demand?”

“Of course not. Nothing has changed. I cannot risk having Knighton muck up my negotiations for Morgan.”

Uncle Lew slumped in obvious relief. “Thank God.”

“What? A week ago you were convinced that I should tell Knighton the truth.”

“A week ago you were not testing dueling pistols with the intention of using them.” He gazed earnestly at Sebastian. “I worry about Morgan, of course, but I worry more about you. This gossip will incense Knighton. He will want your blood. So as much as I should like to see you and Lady Juliet marry, I think it best for you to wait to tell her family the truth, at least until you see if you can stem the rumors.”