The Bed and the Bachelor (35 page)

Everyone stared the moment they saw Sebastianne.

“I’m fine,” she said, holding up a hand to forestall their exclamations of alarm at her battered appearance. “Just a little mishap.” Glancing across the room, she nodded at the twins. “Bonjour, my lords. How good to see you again.”

The twins stood up from their chairs, mouths hanging open. “Mrs. Greenway, what are
you
doing here?” Leo said first.

“It’s Dumont, actually,” she told him in a tired voice, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over her. “If you’ll forgive me, I need to lie down. Your older brother can explain everything. He’s a marvel, you know, and not just at math,” she said, letting all the love she felt shine in her eyes.

Epilogue

London, England

August 1813

“D
o I look all right?” Sebastianne asked as she ran a hand over her carefully coiffured hair, then down the skirt of the elegant new afternoon dress of sky blue sarcenet that Drake had insisted on buying her.

“You look exquisite,” Drake said soothingly. Taking up her hand, he pressed a kiss against her trembling palm. “You know, for a woman who successfully infiltrated my household, stole a secret code, and outwitted a dangerous spy, you’re remarkably nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous,” she hissed, trying her best not to be further intimidated by the elegant surroundings of the Clybourne House drawing room, with its golden silk-lined walls, delicate Chippendale furnishing, or hand-painted ceiling that that looked as if it had been rendered by one of the old masters. “I’m meeting your mother today, aren’t I? Why wouldn’t I be nervous?”

“But you needn’t be. She’ll love you.”

“And what if she doesn’t? What if she abhors me and refuses to let us wed? I was your housekeeper, after all. She can’t be terribly overjoyed at the thought of her aristocratic son marrying a servant.”

“Which you never really were. Besides, you come from a fine lineage, even if your father has been dispossessed of his lands and title. And your maternal grandfather was an English squire, a very respectable heritage.”

“For ordinary people, perhaps, not for a duchess.” She smoothed her gown again, then clasped her hands together in a death grip. “I may not be completely ignorant of proper manners, but I wasn’t raised to be the wife of a lord. I just don’t want to be a disappointment, most especially to you.”

Drake took her in his arms, ignoring her hushed concern about wrinkling her finery. “You could never disappoint me,” he said with complete sincerity. “I love you exactly as you are, and by some miracle, you love me too. You know all my foibles and idiosyncrasies, yet somehow you want me regardless.“

She met his clear green gaze. “Of course I want you. How could I not?”

“There are a great many other women who wouldn’t, particularly when I bury myself in my work and drift off into my own thoughts at odd moments of the day and night.” Pulling her closer, he kissed her. “What other woman would willingly volunteer for a lifetime of that?”

“I can think of several, but I suppose I am well versed in the habits of mathematicians.”

“Yourself included. I look forward to formulating some very interesting theorems with you.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, so is that what we shall be doing together once we are wed—formulating theorems?”

“Among other things,” he said in a husky voice as he stroked a hand across her hip.

“None of that, my lord,” she murmured. “Only think if your mother should walk in and catch us.”

“I suspect she would take it in stride. After all, she is a mother of eight, so I think she knows a bit about what goes on between a man and a woman.”

“Drake!” she scolded, trying to be outraged and failing.

He chuckled. “My mother may be a dowager duchess, but you’ll find that she’s very liberal in her views and not at all puffed-up like some of the nobility. My sister-in-law Grace’s father, for example, is a complete commoner, without so much as a drop of blue blood in the whole family. Mama welcomed Grace with open arms. Frankly, I think she was simply relieved to see Jack married at all. So don’t fret, my love. You’re going to dazzle her.”

Dazzle her, hah!
Sebastianne thought.

“Mrs. Tremble wasn’t dazzled,” she said sourly, remembering the cook’s reaction to her return.

Drake’s staff wasn’t privy to all the details of Sebastianne’s life or her real reason for having worked as Drake’s housekeeper, so they were shocked when she arrived back in Audley Street with an elderly father and two young brothers in tow—all of whom spoke rapid French and were clearly not of English origin.

Nor had the servants forgotten or forgiven Sebastianne for her unexpected disappearance from the house—a slight they took personally since they had been frantic with worry at the time. To make matters worse, Sebastianne had had no choice but to reveal that she was not “Mrs. Greenway” after all, and that she hadn’t been strictly truthful with them about certain other details.

“Just how old are you then?” Mrs. Tremble had demanded on the day Sebastianne and Drake assembled the servants in the drawing room to explain as much of the truth to them as seemed prudent.

“I am two-and-twenty years of age, soon to be three-and-twenty,” Sebastianne said honestly.

“Hah! Well, if I didn’t have the right of it all along,” the older woman said, slapping a hand against her thigh.

Drake had stared at Sebastianne in astonishment, clearly as unaware of that particular revelation as all the others. Recovering quickly, and giving her a look that said they’d discuss it in more depth later, he’d continued smoothing over Sebastianne’s return by announcing that they were engaged to be married.

The servants exclaimed with surprise, then delight, their affront rapidly dissipating. Even Mrs. Tremble was on the verge of forgiving her—or at least she had been until she found out that Sebastianne would be living in Drake’s town house until the wedding.

“It ain’t proper,” the cook protested. “Ye’re marrying Quality now, and ye ought to behave as such. And I don’t care if yer brothers and father are staying here too. We’ve all met the lot of them. They’re hardly fit chaperones, even if they’re sweet as a picnic hamper full of jam tarts.”

“She’ll come around,” Drake told Sebastianne, as her attention returned to the present. “Mrs. Tremble is just set in her ways, but she’ll adjust. You won her over once; you’ll do it again.”

“I hope so. Surely she must see that Papa and the boys and I cannot remove to a hotel.” And the notion of living at Clybourne House, or worse Braebourne, was out of the question, she added silently. She was nervous enough meeting his mother, but living alone with his family . . . no, she would just have to bear a bit of disapproval. Besides, her reputation was ruined already, she rationalized, so what did it matter where she resided for the next month?

He turned her slightly in his arms. “Speaking of accommodations, it has come to my attention that the town house is rather cramped now that we are a family of five. I was looking at some land west of the city. I wondered what you might think of building a house there?”

“A house? For us all?” she said, faintly amazed. “But I just assumed you would want Papa and the boys to take up residence elsewhere, you know, after we are married.”

“No, love. You would be lost without them, and curious as it is to say, I’m coming to enjoy my daily discussions with your father. He’s fascinating. As for Julien and Luc—”

“Yes?”

“They’re wonderful young men, and they’ll be excellent uncles when the time arrives for us to start our family.”

Something inside her melted, her love growing deeper if that was possible. Leaning forward, she crushed her mouth to his for a thorough and highly satisfying kiss.

“A house in the west sounds grand,” she murmured. “We’ll make it big, so there is plenty of room.”

He nodded, brushing his lips across hers again. “Yes, very big. After all, I am excellent at addition.”

She was leaning forward for another kiss when the sound of whispering skirts broke the quiet.

“
Ahem,
” a gentle feminine voice said. “Forgive the intrusion. I can always come back.”

Sebastianne tried to whirl away from Drake, but he caught her hand and drew her arm through his. “Not at all,” he said, “I was just discussing residences with Sebastianne while we waited.”

The dowager smiled. “So I see.”

“Mama, allow me to present my future bride, Madame Sebastianne Dumont.”

Ava Byron gazed at her out of soft green eyes—eyes that looked amazingly like Drake’s. “How do you do, my dear?”

Sebastianne made a short curtsey. “A pleasure, Your Grace. Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

The dowager glanced at Drake. “I can see why you chose her. She’s lovely.”

Stepping closer to Sebastianne, the dowager duchess stretched out a delicate hand. “You are obviously a very special woman to have captured my son’s regard. I was afraid for a time that he was going to make good on his pledge to remain a bachelor. His head is so often in the clouds, you know.”

“Yes, but he is so brilliant and interesting and so very kind that a little distraction now and then makes no matter,” Sebastianne said. “At least not to me.”

Warmth blossomed in the dowager’s gaze, along with love. “Nor to me.” Leaning near, she kissed Sebastianne’s cheek and squeezed her hand. “Welcome to the family, my dear. You shall make a fine addition to this irrepressible brood of mine.”

Drake sent Sebastianne a quick glance that said
I told you so.

She began to relax.

“And now for
my
news,” the dowager said, suddenly beaming like a giddy schoolgirl. “What would you two think of having a double wedding?”

“
Double
wedding?” Drake said, looking nonplussed. “Who else is getting married?”

“Me! Lord Saxon has asked me to be his wife, and I have said yes.”

“Saxon!” Drake goggled. “Viscount Saxon, you mean?”

“The very one. Just because you didn’t get on with his daughter doesn’t mean I have to pass up the father.”

Drake made a choking sound.

“Come,” she told them, dragging Sebastianne toward one of the damask-covered sofas. “I shall tell you all about it over tea. Croft should be in any moment with the tray. Now, my dear”—she settled Sebastianne at her side—“you’re a widow too, even if you’re still quite young. How do you feel about white wedding gowns?”

Glancing across at Drake’s shocked, pale face, Sebastianne began to laugh. Suddenly, she knew she was going to love being a Byron.

Acknowledgments

My sincere gratitude to—

My editor, Lucia Macro,

and my agent, Helen Breitwieser.

Emmanuelle Jappont for her invaluable assistance

with French expressions and translations.

Merci beaucoup, Manue!

My kitty cats—

Christofur, Violetta and Georgianna—

who always keep me company while I write.

And last, but never least,

to Leslie.

I couldn’t do it without you, sis.