The Bed and the Bachelor (16 page)

He raised her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss onto the warm, fragrant silk of her palm. “And you’ll have me to show you the Town as you’ve only dreamed of seeing it. I’ll take you everywhere, balls and parties and on holiday to a host of magnificent climes. I promise you nothing but pleasure, both in bed and out.”

Sebastianne swayed, heart pounding in her chest, as a sharp longing pierced her like an arrow. He spun tales of a fantastical idyll, promising a life of luxury and excitement. She could almost imagine how it would be, spending her days as a pampered lady and her nights taking wanton pleasure in his arms. In such a fantasy world, she would be free to give her love, and if she were very lucky, find it returned as well.

How wonderful it would be.

“Say yes, Anne,” he whispered. “Tell me you’ll be mine.”

The sound of her false name on his lips shattered her reverie, returning her to reality with the same abrupt shock she would have felt if he’d tossed her into a wintry lake. Her heartbeat slowed to a dull rhythm, the weight of her duty and allegiances rushing back.

She pulled her hand away for a second time. “I may have shared your bed last night, Lord Drake, but that doesn’t mean I wish to become your whore. Besides, I believe you already have a mistress here in Town to see to your needs. I would prefer to keep house for you as your housekeeper, not as your light o’love.”

He said nothing, a new frown creating lines across his handsome forehead. She almost reached out to smooth them away but curled her hand against her skirt instead.

Suddenly, a fresh thought occurred. “Unless you want me to give notice?” she said, a frown gathering on her own brow. “Are you dismissing me?”

What if he demanded that she did leave? Without the cipher, she couldn’t afford to lose her position in his household now. What if sleeping with him had not only cost her her heart but her chance to finish the job that had brought her so far from home as well?

“Of course you are not dismissed,” he said gruffly. “Do you think I would turn you out simply because you refused my carte blanche? What kind of blackguard do you take me for?”

“Drake, I never meant—” she whispered.

“Your employment with me is secure so long as you wish it. And should you harbor any fears concerning a repetition of my advances, you may rest easy. You have made your sentiments plain, in spite of sharing my bed last night. I do not importune women who don’t reciprocate my interest. Now, I believe I will take my breakfast.”

She hesitated, wanting to explain her refusal but knowing she could not. How could she when doing so might expose the real reason for being in his bedchamber last night? She was fortunate he truly had been asleep when she’d copied the key and that he’d accepted her explanation at face value rather than questioning her further.

If he only knew he would be furious.

If he only realized, he would have no qualms about giving her the sack.

Instead, he would likely see her clapped in irons and led off to Newgate. No, it was better she had wounded his pride by her rejection. Better he would stay away.

So why did a wistful part of her wish it were otherwise?

Turning, she crossed to the breakfast tray, preparing to carry the plates to him. Before she could so much as remove the covers, he forestalled her with a wave of one hand.

“Do not trouble yourself over serving me, Mrs. Greenway. I shall see to matters on my own.”

She hesitated again, then linked her hands against her skirts. “As you wish, my lord.”

He didn’t acknowledge her further, her dismissal clear.

Chest aching again, she walked to the door.

Chapter 15

“D
id your dog die or something?” Cade asked Drake three evenings later as he and his brother stood together on the balcony at the Pettigrews’ annual ball, each of them puffing idly on cheroots. “You’re as morose as an undertaker.”

Drake tapped a bit of greyish ash, watching the flakes scatter over the hydrangea bushes underneath. “My humor is fine. And as you’re well aware, I do not have a dog.”

“An omission Esme would be only too happy to correct. She believes everyone needs canine and feline companionship,” Cade observed, referring to their little sister, who was a great animal lover and kept a menagerie of beloved creatures at Braebourne. “Yet somehow I don’t think it’s a lack of furry friends that’s troubling you. A female have you in knots?” he added with uncanny perception.

Drake took a long pull on his cigar, the end flaring brilliantly red. “No,” he lied. “Just don’t know why Mama insisted on my attendance tonight when it’s clear I have no interest in any of the eligible misses. I’d much rather be working than dancing a cotillion.”

“At least you
can
dance,” Cade stated. “Every time I watch Meg stand up with some fellow, I wish she were dancing with me.”

Drake waved off the remark. “She loves you just as you are and doesn’t care a whit that your bad leg keeps you from standing up with her at balls. The men who partner her on the dance floor mean nothing, you know that.”

Cade’s eyes flashed. “I do know. If I thought otherwise, I’d forbid her from leaving the house and run all those would-be cicisbei through with my sword.”

“I’d love to see you forbid Meg from doing anything,” Drake said with a low chuckle. “She has the countenance of an angel and the heart of a Titan.”

“She is magnificent,” Cade said with obvious love and pride. “But we’re not talking about my wife, we’re talking about you.”

“Are we? I thought we were talking about dogs—Meg’s admirers included.”

Cade gave a snort, then took a puff on his cigar. With elaborate style, he blew a curling stream of smoke high into the night air. “Enough with the diversions. Tell me why you’re so blue deviled.”

Drake scowled.

Although he knew he could tell his brother anything—for Cade was a supremely trustworthy confidant—Drake wasn’t in the mood to share. Over the past three days, he’d done his best to forget his midnight tryst with his housekeeper and her rejection of him the next morning.
What’s done is done,
he told himself, and he was determined to put her aside once and for all.

Unfortunately, her presence in his house made the effort all but impossible. Every time he thought he’d mastered his emotions, the lilting strains of her voice would carry along the hallway. Or else he would catch the faintest hint of her scent, magnified by his senses, as if violets were bursting to life through the floors.

He tried his best of avoid her, and when he couldn’t avoid her, to ignore her instead. But it was as though his brain was connected directly to his bollocks these days, leaving him with a persistent arousal that turned him irascible as a baited bear.

He ought to pay a call on Vanessa, he supposed, and slake his pent-up lust on her. She was his mistress, after all. By damn, though, he didn’t want Vanessa. And the thought of visiting one of the myriad bawdy houses that populated London’s less seemly addresses held even less appeal. Which left him in his present state—blue deviled and in a near agony of lust as well.

Because no matter his resolve to forget what had happened between him and Anne, he wanted her still. Knew he would take her to his bed again with the slightest show of interest on her part. But she’d denied him, and so he would abide by her wishes, even if it ended up turning him into a sexual cripple from lack of carnal satisfaction.

Torture, that’s what it was. Pure and simple torture. Lord above, save him. But in this regard, he didn’t think the Lord had anything to share.

“As I said before, it’s obviously a woman,” Cade declared, intruding into Drake’s thoughts. “Has it anything to do with Miss Manning?”

“Who?” Drake mumbled, his mind still full of lustrous autumn-hued hair and satiny white female flesh.

Cade shot him a quizzical glance. “Apparently not. Miss Manning will be vastly disappointed to know your visits were of no moment.”

“Well, yes, I was only being polite.”

“Is it Vanessa then? Has your affair come to an end?”

Drake’s brows drew even tighter. Vanessa, he realized, provided him with the perfect excuse. And Cade was right about one thing, Drake realized, his affair with her was over—at least for him. He would have to find a considerate way to break it off with her.

“Yes,” he stated. “Vanessa and I are through.”

Cade studied him again as if he weren’t quite satisfied by the answer. “In that case, then, it sounds as if you’re in need of a gentleman’s night out with your brothers and a few male friends. Drinking, gaming and wenching.”

“None of which your wife or the other wives will allow although I’m sure Leo and Lawrence know the best spots for such activities.”

“From the reports I’ve heard, they know
all
the spots, the best and worst alike.” Cade paused, tapping the ash off his now-cold cheroot. “How about an evening in then? A nice dinner, a few rounds of billiards and good conversation. None of the ladies can complain about that. Of course, my town house won’t do,” he mused aloud, “nor will Clybourne House. And I’m sure none of us wants to risk squeezing into the twin’s new digs . . .” He trailed off, leaving a significant silence.

Drake raised a brow and ruefully shook his head. “I suppose I’m to volunteer my own town house then?”

Cade smiled as if Drake had just had the most brilliant idea in the world, clapping him on the back. “Excellent notion. I’ll contact the guests, you arrange the supper.”

Restraining a sigh, Drake agreed.

T
he key will be ready in two days more,
Sebastianne thought the following morning as she stood in the upstairs hallway, counting the linens and inspecting them for stains and worn spots. Finding one with a small tear along one corner, she pulled it free and set it into a large wicker basket she’d carried upstairs for just such a purpose.

With her schedule, though, she knew there would be no opportunity to collect the key until Friday next, when she had her regular full day off. She’d taken a big enough risk concocting an excuse that had allowed her to visit the key maker across Town. Coming up with another “urgently” required item for the stillroom might raise curiosity, or worse, suspicion. So she would have to bide her time, waiting for her day off and the freedom it gave her to travel through the city unaccompanied and unnoticed.

The month Vacheau had allotted her was slipping rapidly past, but she still had nearly two weeks remaining, enough time for her to secure the duplicate key and copy the cipher.

If only I had both of them now and could leave, everything would be so much easier,
she reasoned, ignoring the painful lurch her heart gave at the idea of her inevitable departure from the house and, most especially, its master. But the break would have to be made whether she liked it or not, just as she’d done what was necessary when she’d refused Drake’s offer to become his mistress. Not that she would ever truly have entertained the idea of being any man’s mistress. Yet, in Drake’s case, she had been tempted.

Lord Drake,
she scolded herself.
He’s not Drake to you. He’s your employer, not your lover, even if you did spend one astonishingly beautiful night together.

As for Drake . . .
Lord Drake
. . . he certainly seemed to have recovered after being summarily turned down. Whenever she saw him—which wasn’t all that often—he was pleasant and polite if a bit reserved. But that was only to be expected, she supposed, given the situation and the fact that she was just a servant.

His servant. To command in any manner he chose.

But true to his word, he’d made no further overtures of an amorous nature toward her; it was almost as if the night hadn’t happened. In fact, if she hadn’t had the wax case in her possession and wasn’t having a key cast from it, she might have thought their passionate interlude nothing but a dream.

Suddenly glancing down, she found her knuckles squeezed white, her fingers clutched around one of the sheets. Instantly releasing it, she took a moment to collect her emotions, then went back to her inspection.

She was nearly finished when she heard footsteps coming toward her in the hall. Half-hoping it was Drake, she turned toward the sound.

“Mr. Stowe,” she greeted, lowering her lashes in case disappointment showed in her gaze. “What brings you this way?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Greenway,” the butler replied. “I have news that I thought required your immediate attention and decided not to wait until you returned belowstairs.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

The older man gave her a faint, almost apologetic smile. “His lordship has decided to host a dinner this evening. Twelve guests, all male, in need of supper and refreshments. I shall leave the menu planning to you and Mrs. Tremble. And, of course, I shall see to the table service myself with Jasper and Lyles assistance.”

A dinner! Tonight!

Mince alors,
what did she know about arranging a dinner for a bunch of aristocratic gentlemen? The biggest table she’d ever set had been at home for Christmas with her father, brothers and a few neighbors, all come to share the holiday together. When her mother had been alive, they’d had an English plum pudding as well, full of fruit and nuts and whiskey. In Drake’s case, however, she didn’t think
pot au feu
and a king cake would be in keeping with either the summer season or the company.

At least, there wouldn’t be any ladies in attendance or the need to provide an array of after-dinner delicacies and tea in the drawing room while the gentlemen relaxed separately over their brandy. Nevertheless, what was Drake thinking to give her and the rest of the staff so little time to prepare?

Obviously, he believed that, as a lord, his servants ought to be more than capable of readying the house for guests and know how to lay a satisfying meal before them. Even more to the point, he clearly assumed that his housekeeper was up to the task of overseeing every detail of the preparations.

Which,
she thought with a fluttery jiggle in her stomach,
remains to be seen.

Allowing none of her inner turmoil to show, she gave Mr. Stowe a look of easy confidence. “Thank you for bringing the matter to my early attention. I shall finish here with my linen inspection, then be along to consult with maids and kitchen staff.”

The butler nodded with obvious satisfaction. “Excellent. Mrs. Tremble already has a list of their lordships’ preferred dishes and His Grace’s as well.”

“His Grace?”

“Lord Drake’s brother, the Duke of Clybourne. He will likely be in attendance tonight.”

Mon Dieu,
she thought, forcing her eyes not to widen.
That’s right, one of Drake’s older brothers is a duke.
She hoped he hadn’t invited the Prince Regent along as well. She didn’t think her nerves would be able to take such a revelation. But Stowe made no further alarming remarks about the guest list, giving her another brief smile before turning away.

She waited until she heard his footsteps recede in the distance; only then did she let her shoulders sag.

Today is going to be a very long day.