The Wedding Season (7 page)

He hoped Rebecca would believe that excuse more than he had.

“Then why did you not accompany your brother when he collected the sketch of Hermione?” Her direct gaze demanded the truth.

“Because…I wasn’t certain I could face you, knowing what you think of me.” Sebastian could scarcely believe he had made such a frank admission of weakness.

Rebecca seemed taken aback as well. “I thought you did not give a fig for anyone’s opinion of you. You seemed to take pride in being considered stubborn, arrogant and ruthless.”

“In a good cause,” he reminded her.

“Ah.” She began walking toward the easel. “And you realize that trying to break your brother’s engagement is not such a good cause after all?”

“No.” The denial rose to his lips instinctively, before he had an opportunity to give it much thought. “But I am certain meddling in his marriage would be. It grieves me that you believe I would do such a thing.”

“I do not wish to grieve you. Quite the contrary, in fact.” Rebecca caught her full lower lip between her teeth, as if to prevent herself from saying any more on the topic. After a long pause, she turned to a safer subject. “Since you are here and my sketch of you is finished, you might as well take it, if it meets with your approval.”

Sebastian moved toward the easel, as much because he welcomed any excuse to draw nearer to Rebecca as because of any eagerness to see his portrait. Indeed, now that the moment was at hand, he found himself a trifle nervous to see how she had depicted him.

Steeling himself, he glanced at the paper. A breath of relief gusted out of him.

“Do you like it?” The anxious tone of Rebecca’s question made it clear that, in this instance, she cared as much about his opinion as he did about hers.

He gave a slow nod. “It is very well done.”

The likeness was a flattering one, without softening his bold features too much. There was also a sense of vitality about it that he appreciated. One part of the sketch unsettled him, however—a glimpse of unexpected vulnerability in the
eyes. It was obvious that Rebecca saw him far more clearly than most people. Perhaps too clearly for his comfort. Was it possible that after such a brief acquaintance she already knew him better than he knew himself? Considering the actions of which she believed him capable, Sebastian hoped not.

He nodded toward the sketch. “Perhaps we should have settled on your fee at the outset, but I believe this is worth whatever price you might ask.”

“Nonsense.” Rebecca rushed past him and removed his portrait from the easel. “I am not a professional artist and I would never think of charging you a fee. I agreed to sketch your portrait as a favor for a friend. Your appreciation is the only fee I require.”

“I do not mean to offend you.” Sebastian wished she would look at him, but she kept her attention fixed on the task of rolling and tying the paper. “I merely wish to demonstrate the value I place upon the time and skill you have put into this sketch.”

“Do you only value what you pay for?” Rebecca slapped the rolled-up paper into his hand. “In that case you may burn it or throw it away or whatever you wish because I will not accept a penny for it. It was a labor of…that is, I will not cheapen my efforts by taking your money. Now, if you will excuse me, Lord Benedict, since my employers are not at home, I’m sure you can have no further business with a mere servant.”

“Please, don’t go!” Fumbling the sketch, he managed to catch her by the hand before she hurried away. “You must know I do not think of you in that way. If you insist on making me such a generous gift, then I will accept it and offer you only my gratitude in return.”

She did not turn back to face him, but neither did she pull away, as she might if she were determined to flee.

It was possible she might have stayed even if Sebastian released her hand, but he did not want to take any chances. “Please assure me you know I do not think of you as a
mere servant.
”

“What else should I presume to think?” she countered in a wistful murmur shaded with bitterness. “It is clear your chief objection to Hermione is that she lacks the proper rank and fortune to move in your circles. Compared to her, I am not of the slightest consequence to someone like you.”

Rebecca finally made an effort to extract her hand from his grip. Much as Sebastian longed to maintain that contact between them, he would not do it by force. He must find some other way to keep her there to hear him out.

“I do have my reservations about Miss Leonard’s suitability for my brother on account of their difference in rank and fortune.” His words tripped over one another in his haste to get them out. “But not for the reason you suppose.”

In the time it took him to blurt all that out, Rebecca had taken several steps toward the door. Now she stopped and turned back to face him again. Clearly he had succeeded in rousing her curiosity. “What other reason can there be but that you judge the worth of people based on titles and income?”

“I hope nothing in my manner toward you has given you cause to believe that.”

“N-no,” she admitted, much to Sebastian’s relief. “But I have known people of rank and fortune who despise anyone they consider beneath them.”

Which people, he wondered. And what harm had they done to her? But this was an opportunity for him to explain, not ply her with questions. “Well, I have known people,
beautiful women in particular, who use their wiles to prey upon wealthy and titled men in order to advance themselves.”

“How did you know such women?”

He tried to toss off his reply in a tone of indifference, even though it felt as if he had ripped it from the very flesh of his heart. “I had the misfortune of marrying one.”

“Y
ou are married?” A clammy wave of shame broke over Rebecca when she contemplated the tender feelings she’d secretly harbored toward Sebastian.

“
Was
married,” he corrected her. “Some years ago when I was even younger and more foolish than my brother.”

“You divorced your wife?” Though she had no right in the world, Rebecca could not help feeling slighted that he had once given his heart to another woman.

“Divorced?” Sebastian wrinkled his strong, jutting nose as if at some distasteful odor. “I might have had grounds, but I could not have borne the humiliation of having all that dragged out before my colleagues in Parliament.”

After a moment of uneasy silence, he continued, “Lydia died after two years spent making my life miserable.”

Hearing the pain and bitterness in his voice, Rebecca knew at last what was responsible for that shadow in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, knowing she was not offering Sebastian the customary consolation on the loss of his wife. “Why did you not tell me before?”

The question had scarcely left her lips when she realized
how little right she had to ask it. She had concealed far more important information from him. Besides, it was none of her business whether or not he’d ever been married.

To her surprise, Sebastian did not bring up either of those reasons against her. “It is not something I care to talk about. Indeed, I try to think of Lydia as little as possible. Though my brother’s betrothal has stirred up all manner of unpleasant memories.”

“Perhaps it would help to talk about them.” Rebecca was not certain what prompted her to make such a suggestion—especially since she had never shared
her
unpleasant memories with anyone else.

She’d sometimes wondered if it might ease the heartache of those recollections, if she could unburden herself to someone close and caring. If she could persuade Sebastian to confide in her, it might help dispel the weight of his past. Then perhaps he would recognize that Hermione was nothing like the wife who’d deceived him.

Sebastian did not respond to her offer right away. Rebecca sensed a struggle taking place within him over whether to accept or decline.

“What good would it do?” he demanded at last, with almost savage intensity. “The past is done and nothing can change it. All I can do is learn from my mistakes and make certain neither I nor my brother repeat them.”

It grieved her to see him hurt so badly over something that had happened years ago. She knew how it felt to bear the scars of the old wounds.

“It is true we cannot change the past.” Groping for the right words, Rebecca raised a silent prayer for guidance. “But I believe people
can
change if they are open and willing. You changed your opinion of me, not because my character
had altered, but because you came to know and understand me better.”

The grim severity of Sebastian’s expression eased as she spoke. Slowly, he sank onto the settee.

“You reckon I can alter my perception of the past by trying to understand it better?” He sounded doubtful but not altogether resistant to the possibility.

“Surely it is worth a try.” With careful, deliberate movements, Rebecca took a seat on the nearest chair.

It was some distance away from Sebastian and not directly opposite him. Instinct, or perhaps inspiration, warned her that he needed to maintain wider physical boundaries if he was to breach the defenses around his heart.

Expecting to encounter further objections or reluctance, she could barely contain her surprise at his next words. “I met Lydia during my first Season in London, when I came to take up my seat in the House of Lords. I was a callow young fool who’d been buried in the Cotswolds trying to raise my younger brother after our father’s death. I was not prepared for the stimulation of Society, the feminine portion in particular.”

As he spoke, Rebecca fancied his features looking more like his brother’s. She could easily picture the young man he’d been—inexperienced, trusting and hungry for someone to love him.

“It was Lydia’s second Season.” Sebastian stared toward the window. The colors of the flowers outside looked even more vivid in contrast to the overcast sky. “When I was first introduced to her, I had never beheld such a glamorous creature. It was as if she had stepped out of a fine painting or the pages of a novel.”

A stab of self-doubt pierced Rebecca. No wonder Sebastian had been willing to give her a second chance and take
her into his confidence. Her plain looks and lack of style would have raised no unwelcome reminders of his late, unlamented wife. She possessed none of the charms that might have placed his heart in peril.

She could not be sorry for anything that had allowed her to draw close to him. And yet…part of her wished she had the appeal to make Sebastian as attached to her as she was to him.

Stifling that foolish regret, she focused her attention on Sebastian’s next words. “When that fascinating creature encouraged my attentions, I was beside myself with delight. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself betrothed, then married to a woman with whom I was barely acquainted. Only once the knot was securely tied did my lovely bride begin to show her true character. I soon discovered it was a hangman’s knot in the noose around my neck.”

He reached up to loosen his neck linen as if he could still feel the rope tightening around his throat. “I’d known Lydia had no money to speak of, but I was too unworldly and besotted to care about such matters. After we were married she began wanting more and more from me—jewels, accounts at all the best shops, a small fortune in pin money. As if her demands were not enough, her grasping relations came crawling out of the woodwork until I feared they would ruin me. When I protested that I could not support them all, she grew cold toward me and threatened to find a man who could give her and her family everything they wanted.”

As Rebecca listened, a sense of outrage began to simmer within her, quickly intensifying to a full boil. Just as she had defended Sebastian against Hermione’s angry comments, she now wished she could take up arms on his behalf against his manipulative wife and her pack of greedy relatives. But
even if she could go back in time, she would be powerless to stop them. Any help she could give Sebastian must be here and now.

She doubted that offering him a sympathetic ear would be enough. But it was all she had.

“I tried to placate her at first.” Sebastian rested his forehead on the palm of his hand. “Because I thought I loved her and I could not bear to lose her love. In the end I came to realize there was nothing to lose. She did not love me and never had, any more than a greedy sow loves a brimming trough of swill.”

The bitterness of his words was so caustic Rebecca fancied they might blister his mouth. “All that saved me was the discovery that I had never truly loved her either. I had been infatuated with a pretty mask. The person behind it was a stranger to me. Worse than a stranger—a loathsome parasite!”

That could be true, and the belief might have spared Sebastian worse heartbreak. Yet Rebecca sensed his feelings for his late wife had been deeper than he could bring himself to admit. The way Lydia deceived and used him had cut deep. Perhaps he’d succeeded in burying those memories and the feelings they provoked until recently, but they had festered all that time, ready to flare up more venomous than ever.

“I felt trapped in a marriage that was destroying me.”

Sebastian’s voice had gradually grown quieter until Rebecca had to strain to make out what he was saying. “I hated the man I had become. One night she threatened, yet again, to leave me if I did not give in to her insatiable demands. I told her not to raise my hopes with false promises. She flounced off, and I heard nothing more from her until she was found
dead of a fever a few months later. When I received the news, I felt nothing but relief.”

Somehow Rebecca knew that was not the whole truth. Relief might have been his chief reaction, but not the only one. Perhaps he’d been tormented by guilt or grief for the marriage he’d hoped to have when he first fell in love with the beautiful debutante.

“Now you know the whole sordid story.” Sebastian rose from the settee with an air of deep weariness. “I wish I could claim it helped to speak of it, but that would not be true. I only hope it has helped you understand why I am driven to protect my brother from repeating my mistake and why I so deeply mistrust marriages of unequal fortune.”

“I
do
understand.” Rebecca got to her feet. “But that does not mean I agree. I know Hermione Leonard better than almost anyone. I promise you, she is nothing like…that woman.”

His face might have been hewn from granite and his eyes from slate. It was clear he would not, or could not, heed her. “Everything about that girl reminds me of Lydia when I first met her—all the sweetness and smiles, whispery voice and girlish giggles. The way Claude gushes on about her—he spouts all the same drivel as I used to, sometimes word for word.”

“You made a mistake committing your life to a woman without truly knowing her.” Rebecca strove to reach him. “Do not make the mistake of condemning Hermione before you truly know
her.
”

For a moment, she thought she’d succeeded.

Then Sebastian struck back. “Can you honestly assure me Hermione Leonard would have consented to wed my brother if he were poor?”

“I…” Loyalty to Hermione urged her to swear it was true.
If she did, there was a chance Sebastian might believe her. But the truth was more complicated than that. With the painful memories he’d confided fresh in her mind, Rebecca could not truthfully claim that Hermione had given no thought to the advantages of wedding a man with a secure income and bright expectations.

Her hesitation appeared to give Sebastian the answer he’d sought and expected. “I thought not.”

He headed for the door. “In that case, I reckon we should cease our debate. We are each too firmly convinced of our own positions. Nothing would come of continuing now except bad feeling between us. I should regret that.”

“So should I.” Was this the last time she would see him? “Sebastian, wait!”

He turned back toward her with one dark brow raised.

She ached at the prospect of parting from him forever without giving some indication of her feelings for him. But how could she? A woman like her had no business caring for a man so far beyond her reach. Everything he had told her about his marriage made her more deeply attached to him, yet his revelations had also made it impossible to betray a hint of her feelings. If he ever guessed that she cared for him, he would only despise her as another fortune hunter.

Stifling a sob of frustration, she seized upon a convenient excuse for delaying him. “You forgot your sketch.”

Retrieving it from the settee, she brought it to him. Hard as she tried to prevent her hand from touching his, it did. A swift brush of fingertips, searing yet oh so sweet.

Then he was gone.

He must not go back to Avoncross, Sebastian struggled to convince himself.

If there was one harsh lesson his marriage had taught
him, it was to know when to cut his losses. He’d told Rebecca neither of them could hope to sway the other. But that had only been half right. Even after all she’d compelled him to reveal about his past, she remained as stubbornly loyal to Hermione Leonard as ever. Meanwhile, she had come dangerously close to persuading him, with her clear-sighted reason and appealing sincerity, even though he knew he was right.

Reliving the misery of his marriage had made him more committed than ever to protecting his brother. He must abandon his plan to enlist Rebecca’s help and figure out some other way to free Claude from his hasty betrothal…before it was too late.

“Are you coming or not, Sebastian?” Claude glanced toward the mantel clock in the dining room, then back at his brother. “Do make up your mind. The service starts in half an hour and I plan to be there, with or without you.”

Once again, Sebastian warned himself he should stay away from Avoncross. Only…he was not certain he dared let Claude go there by himself.

His brother had returned from London the previous day with the handsomely framed sketch of his fiancée and a ring to seal their betrothal. What if Miss Leonard persuaded the besotted young fool to whisk her off to Scotland for one of those scandalous
anvil marriages?
Sebastian dared not take that chance.

“Of course I’m coming.” He took one last swig of coffee, then rose and followed his brother.

Though Claude drove at his usual headlong pace, they only managed to slip into the sanctuary as the service was about to start. For the next hour, Sebastian followed the liturgy as if his life depended on it. Every time his gaze strayed toward Rebecca Beaton, he forced it back to the pages of his
prayer book. Whenever he found himself listening for her voice during a hymn, he sang louder to drown her out.

Unfortunately the Old Testament lesson was no help at all in keeping his mind off her.
“Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.”

It seemed to Sebastian as if the writer of that ancient proverb was mocking him. He had not been able to find a virtuous woman—quite the contrary. Though he had once given Lydia a present of rubies, his heart had never been able to safely trust in her.

And yet, the Scripture held out the promise of another kind of woman—strong, productive, wise and honorable. An appealing image rose in his mind of Rebecca as a woman of ancient Israel, clad in a flowing robe and veil. He could picture her spinning wool, baking bread, tucking a child in for the night. That vision provided healing balm to his heart, raw from the painful memories he had gouged out of it.

The moment the service concluded, Claude sprang forward to speak to Miss Leonard and her father. Sebastian hung back, not wanting to get caught up in their exchange of meaningless pleasantries. He was not prepared for Rebecca to take up a position at the end of his pew and wait patiently for him to venture out.