In Bed with a Rogue (17 page)

“You want others to know you have successfully defended your sister’s reputation, don’t you?”

The earl had a valid point, but Sebastian still wasn’t keen for an audience. He could just imagine what the gossip rags would write about him after this spectacle.

“He came,” Ellis mused, nodding toward Hillary. “With his history of cowardice, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had fled the country again.”

Sebastian grinned, appreciating Ellis’s show of loyalty.

Hillary’s stare was sullen as Sebastian and Ellis crossed the tall grass, their boots glossy from morning dew. Hillary’s brother Jake was holding a wooden box one would use for pistols and exchanged a smirk with Ellis.

Sebastian’s gaze narrowed on his own second. “I should start on you once I’ve finished with Hillary. Fighting like ladies. How am I to show my face at Brooks’s after today?”

The earl laughed. “Come now, ladies don’t fight. Besides, you’ve made a bigger fool of both of us in the past. Don’t you remember the time you bet me that you could knock the apple from my head?”

“That was
your
idea.”

“Well, you got us in trouble for stealing the vicar’s wife’s bonnet and dressing their cow in it.”

“It looked better on the cow.” Sebastian laughed too. “We were lads. You cannot hold the mistakes of my youth against me.”

“And the time you challenged me to a drinking contest? That was only a year ago.”

Sebastian waved his hand. “Oh, do stop prattling on. I have a duel to win.”

The gentlemen who had come to gawk cheered as Sebastian squared off with Hillary. No doubt they had already placed their bets. His actions often inspired others to gamble, even if they sometimes bet against him.

Sebastian’s steely glare bore into the man who had abandoned and humiliated his sister. His lip curled as he swept his gaze from Hillary’s head to his toes. This piece of rubbish made Eve cry, and he was going to pay.

Ellis stood between them, one hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and the other on Hillary’s. “Jake and I negotiated the terms late last night. Each man will exchange blows in turn until one of you surrenders. If Ben yields, Thorne will have successfully defended his sister’s reputation and the matter will be put to rest.”

A muscle in Hillary’s jaw twitched, but he held Sebastian’s gaze.

“It has been decided Thorne, as the challenger, will be allowed the first strike.”

One side of Sebastian’s mouth kicked up. And he would make the first blow count.

“No fists, elbows, head-butting, kicking, or otherwise,” Ellis added. “Leather only.”

Sebastian’s smirk became a scowl.
Blasted
sisters
.

Jake Hillary stepped forward with the wooden box and flicked the lid open. A single pair of black leather gloves lay on the blue silk where dueling pistols should have been.

Sebastian grabbed one of the gloves. With a resigned sigh, Hillary took the other and frowned at his brother. Jake lifted one brow and Hillary sighed again.

Turning his back on his opponent, Sebastian marched to a section of the field where he’d seen pebbles and scooped a handful.

“What are you doing, Thorne?” Ellis asked.

He dropped the pebbles into the glove and smirked. “My sister said no hands.”

Several of the men who had come to watch laughed, and new wagers began to travel around the group.

Hillary joined Sebastian and knelt to snatch some pebbles too. “I won’t be unevenly matched.”

“You already are,” Lord Corby called. “Thorne has outwitted you.”

Hillary glared at Sebastian as he tested the weight of his glove. When they were both satisfied, they squared off. Their seconds moved to a safe distance and declared the match active.

Sebastian jiggled the glove to get a good feel, adjusted his stance to distribute his weight accordingly, then raised his arm above his head and swung down hard and fast. There was a brief swish followed by a thud so loud it disturbed a covey of quail several yards away. They flew into the air amid frantic beating of wings and alarmed calls.

A welt appeared on Hillary’s cheek. He gingerly probed the area and hissed through his teeth. His eyes hardened as he anticipated his turn.

Sebastian braced himself, but nothing prepared him for the surprising bite of the leather. The crowd winced on his behalf. Half his face felt on fire. Even his eye stung and began to water. But the pain only made him more determined to make his next hit more devastating.

This time when the glove whacked Hillary’s cheek in the same spot, his opponent growled. A few gentlemen cheered.

The other half shouted for Hillary as he delivered another blow.

“Stop hitting like a lady,” Ellis goaded Sebastian.

He swung his head toward his second, tempted to tell him he’d seen a lady take down a man not long ago and not to underestimate them. Instead, he told him to bugger off.

After the fifth smack, Hillary looked up with hellfire raging in his eyes. “I hope you enjoyed that, you bloody jackass, because it’s the last hit you’re going to get in.”

His brother cleared his throat and his eyebrows shot to his hairline. Hillary’s lips pressed tightly together, tremors making him shake. His slap nearly left Sebastian cross-eyed. He shook his head to clear the ringing from his ears. There had definitely been a bit of knuckles involved that time.

Sebastian gritted his teeth. His fingers clenched around the glove and he drove it through the air with all he had. The slap echoed and several men issued laughing groans. A trickle of blood slid down Hillary’s cheek from a thin slit.

He swiped at the cut then examined the blood on his fingers. With a guttural growl, he threw the glove to the ground. “First blood. That is what you wanted, wasn’t it? I hope I have satisfied your need for revenge.”

Sebastian tossed his glove to Jake then jabbed a finger in Ben Hillary’s direction. “If you come around my sister again, she won’t be choosing the weapons.”

He turned on his heel and stalked away. Ellis fell into step with him. When they reached the edge of the field, he stopped Sebastian with a hand on his arm. “Would something like this right the wrong I dealt you?”

Sebastian studied him, trying to imagine Ellis with Gabrielle to stir his anger, but he could barely conjure an irritation. Eve was back in Society, which had been his aim all along. With thoughts of Helena filling his mind at all hours, Ellis and Gabrielle’s betrayal had lost its importance. Sebastian desired Helena beyond reason, and if he were being honest, she was the only one he had ever desired. It would be unjust to despise Ellis for loving a woman Sebastian hadn’t.

“Tell me you have brandy in your carriage, and we will be on the right path.”

Ellis pulled a flask from his jacket pocket and handed it to him.

Sebastian took a long swill before passing it back. “Much appreciated. My face is in excruciating pain.”

Ellis smirked. “You’re not the only one pained by that ugly mug.”

“You are just happy I look more like you.”

The earl laughed and took a swig from the flask too. Their bantering continued as they climbed into Ellis’s coach. It felt familiar and good, so Sebastian left his anger for the earl on the field along with his need to defend his sister’s reputation.

***

“Is something troubling you, my dear?” the Dowager Duchess of Foxhaven asked.

Helena jerked out of her reverie and realized her crossed leg was swinging wildly under her skirts. She froze, mortified, and was tempted to hide in the retiring room until the opera started.

Gabrielle, Lady Ellis, turned curious gray eyes on her. Never had Helena felt more unrefined and out of place than sitting in the Duke of Foxhaven’s box with ladies who wore their ranks as comfortably as the King wore his crown. If not for Eve, she probably would have feigned illness to get out of the invitation, but she couldn’t deny her friend this fortuitous opportunity. Even if it meant her own discomfort.

Helena uncrossed her leg and smoothed her skirts. “I expected Lord Thorne and his sister to have arrived by now.”

As the dowager duchess’s guest, Eve would enjoy a coveted position and a powerful statement would be made. There was no bad blood between the families.

Lady Ellis smiled sympathetically at her. “If it is any consolation, Anthony said Lord Thorne was well when he left him this morning.”

“And was his morning successful?”

If Sebastian had lost, Eve’s reputation would remain sullied. Perhaps the damage would be even worse since the scandal had faded from most everyone’s memory, but Sebastian had been unwilling to listen to reason.

“I will not lose,” he’d stated with unwavering strength.

But Helena knew even the strong could fail. Her husband had seemed as solid and lasting as the crags surrounding Aldmist Fell when he left to hunt stag. It wasn’t until Fergus arrived with the cart bearing Wickie’s broken body that she understood her husband had been a man and not a god she must please.

“Everything is well, Lady Prestwick. I am sure Lord Thorne and his sister will be here soon.”

“Thank you, madam. My mind is at ease now.” She hadn’t really been worried for Sebastian’s safety, thanks to Eve’s clever thinking, but Helena desired his success. When he had looked her in the eye and declared his love for his sister days earlier, she’d seen his heart. He cherished his family as much as Helena valued hers. She had to believe he saw her heart, too, and was leaving no rock unturned in his search for her sister.

The duchess frowned at her daughter. “Have I missed an important piece of gossip? Olive will be most unhappy if I do not deliver on my promise to tell her everything that happens this evening.”

Lady Ellis hugged her mother and kissed her cheek. “I promise to tell you everything later, Mama.”

Helena smiled sadly, missing her mother more than usual.

Lord Ellis swept the red curtains aside, holding one side open to allow Eve to enter the box. “I located Lord and Miss Thorne.”

Eve’s brilliant smile lifted Helena’s heart. She stood to greet her friend, taking her hands. “You look lovely, dearest.”

It was an understatement. Eve’s dark curls were artfully arranged to fall softly around her face, and her pale blue gown with its intricate cream inlay displayed her figure to perfection. Madame Girard was more than a seamstress. She was a master artist.

“So do you, Helena.” Eve placed a featherlight kiss on each of Helena’s cheeks before accepting the dowager duchess’s warm greeting and exchanging pleasantries with Lady Ellis.

Helena’s gaze remained fixed on the opening in the curtains, waiting for Sebastian to appear. A soft gasp slipped past her lips when he did. The duchess and Lady Ellis turned to look.

A faint blue bruise marred his cheekbone, but that hadn’t surprised her nearly as much as his dazzling grin. And it was directed at her. Her heart leaped into her throat.

Lady Ellis’s mouth twisted wryly. “Why, Lord Thorne, whatever happened to your cheek?”

“Gabrielle,” her mother scolded softly then waved him into the box. “Pay her no mind, my lord. Growing up with brothers, one would think she would learn not to ask questions that likely cannot be answered in mixed company.”

Sebastian chuckled, then offered in a stage whisper, “I had a run-in with a glove, Lady Ellis, but if you think I look bad, you should see the glove.”

The lady laughed with him, her eyes bright. It was clear she liked Sebastian even if she hadn’t married him in the end. A rushing noise filled Helena’s ears, and her vision narrowed until all she could see was Sebastian touching the countess’s elbow as he helped her to her seat. He moved aside for Lord Ellis to sit beside his wife and turned to Helena. His smile fell. She pushed down her feelings of jealousy and forced herself to smile calmly as she chose a chair.

Dear
God, what is wrong with me?
Increasingly, she slipped into that in-between place where she was neither mad nor fully sane. Nights were the worst, though. While he was frequenting the brothels in search of her sister—her flesh and blood—Helena was pacing her bedchamber, her gut twisted in knots, sick with the knowledge he was lying with another woman.

Their kiss had only made the feeling stronger and she hated it. Hated being at the mercy of her emotions. Sebastian had been correct that day in the Norwicks’ garden. She
was
a liar. A jealous and apparently poor liar at that.

He sat in the chair beside her and glanced her way with his brow wrinkled. She turned her gaze toward the stage and pretended she didn’t notice his confusion. She could hardly admit to what she was thinking.

Eve sat in the front row where everyone could see her and know she was an honored guest. Helena studied the other patrons as they sent pointed looks in their direction. Some smiled kindly while others hid their own jealousy behind haughty lifts of their noses. Lady Lovelace’s soured frown jumped out at Helena, but when the widow noticed Helena watching, her expression transformed with a self-satisfied smile. Without trying to hide her interest, she eyed Sebastian as one would a plum pudding. He glanced up, caught the widow staring, and inclined his head in acknowledgment. When he looked away, Lady Lovelace smirked at Helena and mouthed the word
mine
.

The air whooshed from Helena as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She blinked against the sting of approaching tears. Crying was a ludicrous response. Sebastian was no one to her. She had refused to become his lover, and if he so chose to pursue his entertainment elsewhere—even with that harpy—Helena should be happy he was no longer pursuing her. She wasn’t.

She kept her attention focused on the empty stage and prayed the opera players would begin performing soon, so she wouldn’t be forced into conversation. Her prayers were answered when a short while later Madame Beaudry took the stage in a gown reminiscent of a Roman toga and a crown of gardenias on her loose curls. Helena had never seen anyone appear in public in such disarray, at least not in Polite Society. Madame Beaudry’s imperious voice invaded the theatre, holding everyone spellbound. Everyone except Helena, who couldn’t stop thinking about Sebastian and whose bed he would visit once they parted this evening.