The Actor and the Earl (27 page)

Authors: Rebecca Cohen

BOOK: The Actor and the Earl

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S
EBASTIAN
had suggested that the best way to celebrate being married for a year would be to do so as a couple, and without half of England’s nobles invading Crofton Hall. But Anthony had dismissed that idea outright, which was why Sebastian was now making small talk with Sir Nicholas Tallaway, arguably one of the most boring men in the country.

“The problem with eels,” said Sir Nicholas, his chest puffed out as if he was about to impart a great knowledge, “is that they have a lot of bones. And who wants to spend their time at the supper table digging eel bones out of their palate?”

“Yes, I can see the concern,” said Sebastian politely, wondering if he could escape by having Bronwyn succumb to another fainting spell.

“I hate to tear you away from your conversation, my darling,” said Anthony, sweeping in like a knight in shining armor, “but there is something urgent I need to discuss with you.”

“Oh, of course. I apologize, Sir Nicholas, but it appears my husband cannot cope without my counsel.”

Sebastian linked arms with Anthony, and they walked to a secluded spot, out of earshot of the guests strolling around the gardens, enjoying a surprisingly warm day for early spring. “My hero,” said Sebastian, “I thought he would bore me to death.”

“We can’t have that, for then I would have to go to the trouble of finding a new willing body on which to slake my considerable lust.”

“And where would you find one of those? Everybody at court should know by now that you are besotted with that strange wife of yours, and if you lost her, you’d be consumed with madness so great none should come near you.”

Anthony chuckled. “All the more reason to keep you alive, then.”

They continued walking, Sebastian glad for a moment’s peace away from the guests and their congratulations. “I think a good proportion of the people here are secretly surprised at the change in your behavior.”

“Some not so secretly,” said Anthony. “Lord Cooper asked me directly if your skills in the marital bed were so great that I had turned my eye away from other, prettier women.”

Sebastian supposed he should be scandalized, but he found it rather refreshing that someone should voice what most of the court were actually thinking. “And your reply?”

“That I would not speak about a lady in such a fashion.”

“Now, that I don’t believe!”

Anthony laughed. “I extolled your virtues, of course, and implied heavily that I have never been so sated.”

“If you are not careful, it will be I who gets offers at court, and then what shall you do?”

“I would simply have to lock you away in my bedchamber. Which I think would be a good idea even if you are not propositioned.”

“At least it would mean that for our next wedding anniversary I would not have to endure these crowds.”

Anthony stopped walking and fell quiet. He looked thoughtful, and Sebastian wondered if he had said something wrong. “Anthony?”

“We agreed on a year or two,” said Anthony after what seemed an age.

“I don’t understand.”

“When you agreed to play Bronwyn, we said a year or two.”

The heavy weight of insecurity that Sebastian had been free of for months settled back onto his shoulders. He turned to look at the hall, at the people milling happily in the gardens of a place that he had come to think of as home. He blinked back tears that he refused to shed, and despite the thickness of his tongue, asked, “Do you wish me to leave?”

“No!” Anthony grabbed him, spinning Sebastian around to face him. “How could you even ask such a thing?”

“You’re the one that mentioned our agreement.”

“I was merely musing on how we came to be where we are.” Anthony’s hand rested on Sebastian’s cheek. “To have you talk fondly about the future—it was so far from where we started.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. There has never been anyone like you, Sebastian. No one who has captured my heart so completely. The court is full of pretty faces, but they are nothing to me. I would rather die than have you leave me, and I will spend my remaining days making sure you have no reason to go.” He kissed Sebastian’s forehead. “But while I cannot ask you to play Bronwyn for the rest of your life, I will fight tooth and nail to keep you at Crofton Hall.”

“It would be safer if Bronwyn were to fall victim to an illness. There are days when I wonder when our luck will desert us, and I will be dragged to the block to have my head removed.”

“Bronwyn’s death could be arranged. I have enough friends who could be trusted if needs be,” said Anthony, and Sebastian thought he heard a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Is that what you want?”

“What I want is you. I do not care if you are laced into a corset or breeches. I want to make sure you are happy, and I have no desire whatsoever for you to leave. The final decision should be with you. What would please you most, my love?”

“I would rather continue to play Bronwyn than have the court think you are once more available,” admitted Sebastian. “It is bad enough that some still think they can tempt you.”

Anthony snorted in amusement. “And do you think I don’t have the same jealousy when women look at Sebastian with an eye to marriage, or men leer at you as a young man who should be easy to bed? I have to grit my teeth and stamp down my impulse to rip out their hearts for daring to covet what is mine.”

“Then it is settled.”

“It is?”

Sebastian kissed Anthony chastely. “When we decide, together, that it is time for Bronwyn to depart, then Sebastian Hewel will keep his brother-in-law company. But until then, Lady Bronwyn will remain the very devoted wife of Earl Anthony Crofton.”

“And let no men or women try to part them.” Anthony grinned and kissed Sebastian deeply.

“We should get back to our guests,” said Sebastian, as a cry of triumph came from the direction of the bowls match.

“Agreed. I think if we play together we can wipe that smug grin off Matthew’s face, and give your cousin Claire something else to tease him about.”

Arm in arm, they strolled back to the lawn, and Sebastian smiled happily to himself. They would still need to be careful, and he knew that he would have to keep his jealousy in check, but he was more than willing to continue to play what had been the best role of his life.

Dedication

R
EBECCA
C
OHEN
is a Brit abroad. Having swapped the Thames for the Rhine, she has left London behind and now lives with her husband in Basel, Switzerland. She can often be found with a pen in one hand and a cocktail in the other.

Visit Rebecca’s blog at http://rebecca-cohen.livejournal.com.

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EBECCA
C
OHEN