One Tempting Proposal (19 page)

“Are you fond of botany, Archie?”

Archie turned back to glance up at his governess. “Miss Perkins is teaching me about plants and trees and everything that grows. But I prefer animals, I think. Zoology.”

“He's a curious boy, which makes my job more adventure than burden.”

Seb turned back to gaze at Archie's governess. The woman bounced when she walked and took in the Mayfair streets with hungry glances in each direction, as if she didn't want to miss any details. Seb suspected she'd find a means of turning any burden into an adventure.

As they entered the park, they kept to the far side of the path, avoiding those on horseback. Seb directed the boy and his governess toward the waterside where he'd made a fool of himself—­the memory of it and Kat in her elaborate hat made him smile.

A few steps later, he realized he was walking alone and looked back to find Archie and Miss Perkins chatting with a young man on horseback. Or, rather, they fawned over the young man's horse. The muscular bay with a white blaze under its forelock dipped its head so that Archie could scratch its snout. Apparently the boy liked horses. While it didn't preclude the possibility he was Seb's son, it certainly wasn't a trait they shared.

“Come meet Hellion, Your Grace.” The boy stared at him expectantly.

Sounds inviting
. Seb stepped gingerly toward the massive creature and nodded his head in greeting. A verbal introduction seemed a bit much.

“He's magnificent, don't you think?” The enthusiasm in Archie's tone left no doubt that he thought so.

Extraordinarily tall and probably capable of crushing the boy under his hooves.

Archie gazed at the animal like Kat looked at her plants.

“Impressive, indeed.” Seb could allow that, at least.

“Do you remember the Latin name, Archibald?” the boy's governess prompted.

Seb's knowledge of zoological families only extended to
Equus.

“
Equus ferus caballus,
” the boy rattled off as if the name had already been on the tip of his tongue.

“Do you have many horses, Your Grace?”

“A few.” A fine stable full, actually, though they'd all been acquired by his predecessor.

“My father is one of the finest horsemen in England.” The boy puffed out his diminutive chest with the declaration.

His father. Lord Naughton. It seemed the boy's opinion of his father was much higher than Lady Stamford's.

“Do you know my father well, or just my mama?”

“I knew him long ago.” So far in the past that he couldn't recall the color of Naughton's eyes. Archie's pale green eyes didn't match his mother's, nor Seb's, but in all other aspects the boy's rounded childish face mirrored Alecia's—­the high cheekbones, narrow nose, and a thin lower lip crested by a full upper Cupid's bow. Even the way he tilted his head and inclined his mouth into a half grin reminded Seb of Alecia. And nothing about the boy resonated within him. Wouldn't he sense if this was his child? Clever and polite, Archie would make any parent proud, but Seb knew, bone deep, that the boy wasn't his.

No relief came with the certainty. Instead, his heart rattled as if his chest had become a hollow space. Alecia would fight him. Of that he had no doubt. If she'd set her mind on convincing him and his aunt that he'd fathered the child, she would not cede defeat easily. And if she fought hard enough, if she argued Archie's paternity loudly enough, eventually the boy would hear the rumors and be snagged in the middle. He clearly idolized Naughton. Whatever kind of husband the man was to Alecia, he'd clearly made his son proud.

“Sebastian!”

Seb turned at the sound of a child calling his name and saw Violet Adderley bounding toward him. He stepped away from the massive stallion so that she wouldn't frighten the beast. She walked quickly but a bit stiffly, as if the exuberance of being nine challenged all the etiquette lessons she'd been taught. Stopping before him, she reached out a hand, as Pippa always did, offering a gentlemanly handshake. After taking his hand a moment and then nodding politely in greeting, she twisted back to stare at Kat as she approached.

The sight of her hit him like a physical force, pressing in on him, and he drew in a steadying breath. He'd dreaded this morning and the encounter with Alecia and her son, but now, seeing Kat, he could barely repress a grin. Sunlight washed over her, highlighting a few strands of hair that had slipped her coiffure, and painting a glow on the arch of her cheeks.

“Violet, you know better than to amble off like that.” Kat didn't excel at chastisement. Her eyes were too full of tenderness whenever she looked at either of her sisters, but she managed to cool that emotion when she turned to look at him.

“Your Grace, what a delightful surprise.” Her tepid tone belied her words and Seb watched her gaze swing from his to Miss Perkins, down to Archie, and up to the young man who'd begun tightening the reins to lead Hellion away.

“Lady Katherine, may I present Miss Perkins and her charge, Master Archie Naughton.”

“Naughton?” The frown marring Kat's brow disappeared almost as soon as it appeared.

She suspected something was amiss. He saw wariness in her eyes, in the quick intake of breath and the tightening of her mouth. It must look odd to find him wandering Hyde Park with the child of a woman that she already suspected of being his former lover.

Eyes pinched, she shot him an inquiring gaze. He'd never truly appreciated the way she usually looked at him, with respect and admiration. But he recognized it now as he saw it fading, overshadowed by distrust and uncertainty.

A cramping pain shot down his back and shoulders, and he stiffened as if his entire body had just been wrenched up and hung on tenterhooks. He should have explained the situation with Alecia to Kat when he'd had the chance.

“Do you know my mother as well? Or my father?”

Bending at the waist so that she could look at the boy eye to eye, Kat lifted her hand to him.

“I am acquainted with your parents, but it is a great pleasure to meet you, Master Archie.” The boy looked momentarily abashed, tongue-­tied, before gathering his wits again.

“And you, my lady.” After sketching an elaborate bow, Archie tipped his head back toward his governess for approval.

Miss Perkins beamed with pride.

“The Duke of Wrexford knows my mother very well, and as Mama and I are visiting his aunt, he wished to make my acquaintance,” he helpfully explained.

Seb couldn't stop looking at her face, hoping for the sharp line of her jaw to soften, but she only offered him her profile. He couldn't even read the emotion in her eyes.

“And do you find the duke to be a pleasant walking companion?”

The boy didn't answer immediately, but he raked Seb with an assessing stare, every inch the aristocratic young man his father would expect him to be.

“He seems to know his way around Hyde Park, although I don't think he much likes horses.”

It seemed a sin among nobles not to revere horseflesh.

“Archibald!” Miss Perkins flexed the full prowess of her stern governess scowl, and the child ducked his head and bit his bottom lip, instantly contrite.

“It's quite all right, Miss Perkins.” The last thing Seb wanted was to earn the boy a scolding.

“You'll find, Miss Perkins, that the Duke of Wrexford is very fond of plain speaking and honesty,” Kat lilted.

He hated the disappointment in her gaze—­not anger or even confusion—­just a long piercing glare, as if she was looking at him again for the first time and found him far less impressive this go around.

“Come, Violet, we must get back in time for luncheon.”

“Kat. Lady Katherine, may I call on you later?”

“No.” The finality in her tone pricked like a thorn under his skin.

“Your sister and I are going shopping. Have you forgotten?”

He had forgotten. This business with Alecia, with her son, had consumed him. The worry of what he'd do, how he could make amends for missing out on years of the boy's life had gnawed at him from the moment he'd opened his eyes. And he still felt no certainty the boy was even his son.

“Then I shall see you when the two of you return with feathered hats?”

Not even his reference to their previous adventure in the park inspired a bit of levity in Kat.

“Perhaps, Your Grace. Good day, Master Archie, and to you, Miss Perkins.”

He watched her walk away, and his body tensed, ratcheting tighter with every step. He held his breath, willing her to look back at him, to give him some sliver of hope. She never turned. He gulped in a breath of air, reminding himself he'd see her in a few hours, when she returned from shopping with Pippa.

But what would happen when their feigned engagement ended? He'd asked her father for her hand in marriage, but if Archie was truly his son, he couldn't offer for Kat.

He'd have to tell her the truth of it, and she'd walk away from him as she did now, without a second glance.

 

Chapter Nineteen

“T
HIS ONE'S MY
favorite. What do you think, Kitty?” Philippa Fennick held up a smart little hat, carnation pink with delphinium blue accents, and nearly dropped it when the Wrexford brougham hit a rough spot on the cobblestones and she lurched forward.

Rather than become irritated as Cynthia Osgood or some of Kitty's other friends might, Sebastian's sister simply chuckled and righted herself. The young woman had an unassailable cheerfulness about her, and guilt for how she'd treated Pippa during their first encounter niggled at the back of Kitty's mind.

“That one is lovely, but I like them all. You have excellent taste.”

Pippa cast her a dubious glance. “I'm not sure that's true. I wouldn't have had any idea what to choose if you hadn't been with me. To be honest, I've never bothered much with fashion.”

Kitty couldn't detect any embarrassment or regret in the statement. Much like her brother, Pippa simply stated the truth artlessly. Or at least it seemed Sebastian spoke the truth. She'd been fool enough to believe it also meant he revealed all of himself. But he'd never promised her that. In fact, he'd insisted in Lady Stamford's garden that they keep their secrets to themselves.

“I don't know a bit about fashion,” Pippa continued. “When I buy a hat, it's to keep the sun off my skin. I never worry what they look like.” Sebastian's sister grinned. “Thank you, Kitty. You've taught me a lesson today. I never imagined buying a pretty hat could be such a satisfying endeavor.”

After gazing out the carriage window a moment, Pippa turned back, expression serious. “I must confess to being uncertain about you. Perhaps I'm too protective of Seb. Maybe I'm too quick to cast judgment.” She grinned again, but it was lopsided and rueful. “It seems I have many lessons to learn.”

For the first time in their half a day together, Kitty sensed insecurity in the young woman's tone.

“Do you think I'll know how to be a duke's sister? My desire to protect him is second only to my wish to never embarrass Sebastian.”

Pippa had no mother, no one to guide or shepherd her through what Kitty knew could be a daunting gamut of social judgments and competitive games. But she still held to her initial impression. With a bit more polish and a bit less naiveté, Sebastian's sister could become one of society's jewels.

“You couldn't. Anyone can see your brother adores you, trusts you, and with good reason.”

That made Pippa smile, her narrow cheeks plumping round. “I think it's clear he adores
you
.”

Kitty instantly noticed the confines of the carriage, the doors trapping them inside, the impossibility of escape without flinging herself into a row of busy afternoon traffic. Had it been so hot in the carriage a moment before? A trickle of perspiration slid down her neck, and she reached to lower the window. The fixture wouldn't budge.

She wanted Pippa's words to be true. The sentiment was precisely what she most yearned to hear, and yet her immediate thought was to refute the notion. To escape the very contemplation that Sebastian felt about her as she did for him, as if some part of her nature repulsed any possibility of grasping her own happiness.

“We are very fond of each other.” She tried not to squeak but all the air had drained out of the enclosed space.

“Fond of each other? Surely it's more than that. I see the way he looks at you and you at him.”

Was there a special way he looked at her? As if he was here with them in the carriage, Kitty saw his gray blue gaze searching her own. She swallowed and her throat felt raw.

What nonsense. Men's gazes had been following her for years. Men and women looked at each other. She'd even caught Pippa exchanging glances with Hattie's Oliver now and then.

“I honestly never thought Seb would consider giving his heart again,” Pippa said quietly as she ran her fingers around the edges of one of the velvet flowers on her new hat. Then, pushing the hat aside, she shifted in her seat and folded her arms, pressing her lips together, as if determined not to let another word escape.

“Was Sebastian . . . married before?” The notion of Sebastian's wariness to risk his heart piqued Kitty's curiosity.

“No! Absolutely not.” Pippa lifted a hand to bite her fingernail before seeming to realize the error of etiquette, and pressed her palm against her thigh. “But he was engaged once. It ended badly. I mean to say, they called it off.”

Kat knew instantly who Seb had once intended to marry.

“Lady Naughton.”

Pippa's eyes went round. “You already knew?”

“I suspected.” Deep under her skin, in her heart, wherever intuition resided, she'd known. “When were they engaged?”

“Many, many years ago, when I was still a child. It must be ten years ago now, at least.”

How had it been? Who'd broken whose heart? Why did they end the engagement? At Lady Stamford's ball, she'd assumed Sebastian had rejected Lady Naughton. She'd never forget the displeasure on the woman's face when she caught them together in the garden.

Had he loved her? He'd certainly been unwilling to discuss any romance with Lady Naughton. His secret, Kitty had called her, and Sebastian never denied it.

Why couldn't he speak as honestly of his connection with the woman as he did everything else? And why had he been walking in Hyde Park with the lady's son?

The boy looked younger than ten years old. Kitty guessed him a few years younger than Violet. Could Archie be Sebastian's son?

Kitty needed to move and stretch, to be free of her carriage-­shaped cage. She slid her foot forward and encountered a hatbox, and then another. In her excitement, Pippa had taken out more of her purchases to study their details and try them on again.

“Perhaps we should put all of these away, Pippa. We're almost there.”

“I wonder what Sebastian will say about my sudden taste for fashionable hats.”

“Would you mind if I spoke to him alone for a bit when we arrive?” However much she dreaded the answers, Kitty had to know the details of his relationship with Lady Naughton and her son.

“Actually, my aunt invited me to join her at the opera this evening. I hoped I might convince you and Seb to join us.” Pippa busied herself with resealing her hats in their boxes as she spoke, and then stilled. “Unless . . . please tell me what I've said hasn't made you doubt Sebastian. I couldn't bear to see him endure what he did before.”

“Our situation doesn't compare, Pippa.” Kitty's throat closed around the admission, and the pressure reached down to grip her heart. “Our engagement has less to do with romance than practicality.”

Pippa ducked her head and pinched the edge of her skirt between her fingers. After taking a deep breath, she leaned forward to catch Kitty's gaze.

“It may have started as a ploy, but hasn't it grown into more? Do you truly intend to end the engagement?”

“I have no intention of ending our engagement.”
At least for now.

Plans had been made for Hattie's wedding. A joint wedding gown final fitting was scheduled for tomorrow. Whatever her feelings for Sebastian, she couldn't let their plan fall apart yet.

When the carriage stopped in front of Wrexford House, Kitty almost balked. After stepping onto the pavement and out into the cool evening air, the desire to turn and start the relatively short walk back home made her legs vibrate. Why question him about the matter of Lady Naughton at all? They weren't truly engaged. His past was his own. He'd keep his secrets, and she'd keep hers. They'd agreed on that from the start.

And yet . . . if the boy was Sebastian's son, and Lady Naughton was prepared to risk her own ruin by exposing the fact, that scandal would ripple out to affect everyone associated with him. His sisters would suffer snubs from polite society. Oliver's career might even suffer the connection, and that would touch Hattie. Scandal had a way of seeping out and staining everyone nearby, even those innocent of any wrongdoing.

Father wouldn't allow any connection with Wrexford or his family if the child's paternity became public. Sebastian wouldn't be the first aristocrat to father a child out of wedlock, but he hadn't even been a nobleman for a year. Hypocrisy required much less effort than humility. Kitty feared the condemnation would be greater for Sebastian because he had just assumed the title, only to tarnish it in the eyes of those who claimed to hold themselves to a higher standard.

“Are you coming in, Kitty?”

Pippa stood on the threshold, urging her into the town house's brightly lit entryway. The space was illuminated so well, she could see Sebastian lurking at the end of the hall, gazing at her as anxiously as his sister. But whereas Pippa wore her usual open expression with a grin curving her mouth, Sebastian appeared as grim as when she'd left him standing in Hyde Park.

Alone but for one governess and a clever child who might be his illegitimate son.

Kitty willed her body forward and was shocked when her legs obeyed. With a promise of a future outing, she thanked Pippa for joining her hat shopping jaunt. Regardless of the fact she hadn't selected a single new hat for herself, she'd enjoyed their time together.

“I take it you two won't be joining Aunt Augusta and me at the theater.” Pippa glanced between them before gathering a ­couple of her hatboxes and heading upstairs.

Despite how his solemn expression increased her desire to turn and avoid a confrontation altogether, Kitty approached Sebastian.

“May I join you in your study?”

He frowned, as if he'd expected her to say something else entirely. Without answering, he turned and began trudging back toward the room where he'd last kissed her.

Afternoon light transformed the room, brightening the wallpaper, lifting the ceiling and extending the walls. The space loomed larger and much less intimate, especially when Sebastian positioned himself in the corner, the farthest point in the room from where she stood.

Her breath caught as she watched him. She'd never seen his broad shoulders sag so decidedly, nor found his mouth so firmly set. Divots of displeasure drew down each corner. He'd crossed his legs at the ankles and clasped his arms across his chest as he leaned against the wall. It felt as if a door had been shut to her. She realized in that moment how open he'd been before, how much he'd let her in.

Her pulse picked up, fluttering at her throat and thrashing in her ears when she tipped her gaze up to meet his.

“Have you come to end it?” He stared down at his feet.

Her breath whooshed out and drawing in the next brought pain, a little stab of despair deep in the center of her chest. She pressed a palm to the spot.

Then it was true. No denial, no explanation. Simply the assumption she would turn her back on him.

Hurt and anger welled up, twisting the pain into a sour knot in the pit of her stomach. He assumed the worst of her, that she was judgmental and hypocritical like all the rest. That she would dismiss him as swiftly as her father.

He seemed uninterested in putting up a fight or defending himself.

“Is ending it what you're hoping I'll do?”

“Do my hopes matter to you now?”

Even as he waited for her answer, he refused to look at her. Turning his body toward the window, he gazed at the curtains as if he could see the same patch of London sky where they'd sought far-­off constellations together. Where he'd stood behind her and touched her as if he could do nothing else, as if he found her irresistible. And then kissed as no man ever had.

After so many suitors, assumptions had been made. Most men believed she would allow a stolen kiss, but she hadn't. She guarded her kisses as fiercely as she guarded her choice of a husband. She never intended to give herself away easily. Before Sebastian, she doubted the possibility of giving herself to any man at all.

So, yes, what he wanted mattered. She was just beginning to reach out and grasp what
she
wanted, but she had to know Sebastian's wishes were the same.

“What you want matters most of all. I need to know.”

He glanced back at her. “Ask me whatever you wish to know. I'll answer any question you put to me.”

So he always had. Every question except the one about his past relationship with Lady Naughton. She wanted to know about the boy, but she also feared his answers. Not the facts, but the feelings. Did he still love Alecia Naughton?

“My first question, the most important one to me, is to know what you want, Sebastian.”

She meant who he wanted, of course, but couldn't bring herself to speak so baldly. As she stood waiting, heat rushing up her neck and onto her cheeks, she prayed he'd sense her meaning.

If he loved her, all the rest could come after. She would face the rest with him. Scandal, rumor, condemnation. Come what may, she could face it if she could have him for her own and give herself to him.

Emerging from the dimly lit corner, Sebastian stalked toward her, a zinnia gold glow from the window burnishing the right half of his body and face.

He was only a footstep away, but Kat willed herself to wait, not to reach for him as everything in her wished to do. But her body betrayed her and she swayed forward, only her corset holding her upright.

Uncrossing his arms, Sebastian reached for her, offering her his hand and seeking hers.

She took his hand immediately, forming her fingers around his firm reassuring grasp.

“I want this,” he whispered. “To touch you.” He stepped forward and slid his free hand down, curving around her waist. “To hold you.”

The pulse fluttering at her neck began to travel, into her throat, down into her chest, and then lower.

“And I want this.” He bent his head but didn't take her lips. Just skimming his mouth across her cheek, he sought her ear, nuzzling her there before dipping lower to place a kiss on the sensitive flesh of her neck. Then he tasted her, flicking his tongue against her skin.