Dangerous Deceptions (16 page)

It was not possible that Sebastian should be here. I had not written him. I did not have Matthew near to watch over me. This was not a drawing room or public dining, or any other event into which the second son of a country baron could simply saunter on the strength of his family name. Besides, I already had far too many deeply problematic individuals to pay attention to. I simply didn’t have
time
for Sebastian Sandford.

It was then that I got my second, and worse, shock. Sophy Howe excused herself from her companions and sailed across the room. She timed her steps exactly. The very moment Sebastian finished making his bow to the princess and backed away far enough that he might politely turn around, Sophy stood in his path, poised and smiling. Sebastian repeated his elegant bow, to which Sophy returned her, admittedly pretty, curtsy. Miss Howe waved her fan, indicating the room in general. Sebastian glanced about more casually and said something. Sophy’s reply was clearly an offer to keep him company, because Sebastian held out his arm.

I could not be seeing this. It was not possible that Sebastian had somehow become not just acquainted with the Howe but was on open flirting terms with her.

“Why, Peggy, what is the matter?”

It was Molly Lepell, speaking softly and looking rather paler than she had at the card table with Lady Bristol. I’d entirely lost track of Molly. Indeed, I had all but forgotten the existence of everyone in the room, except Sebastian strolling past the hearth with Sophy Howe holding on to his arm.

Then I did recall one other person. My gaze shot across the room to find Mary Bellenden. She, surely, was the explanation for Sebastian’s presence. Mary had either decided it would be a good joke to invite him here, or in her utterly careless fashion, she had told Sophy about how they’d met in my room.

“Peggy, people are going to stare,” murmured Molly. I realized my hand was hurting. I looked down to see my fingers clenched tight about the staves of my fan. “Who is that young man with Sophy?”

“No one,” I lied through gritted teeth.

“Well, pull yourself together, because No One and the Howe are coming this way.”

I had no opportunity to respond. Sophy and Sebastian had already arrived, and Sophy gestured toward me with a flourish of her gilded fan.

“And here she is, as I promised!” Sophy announced. “Hello, Molly, are you here as well? Molly Lepell, I present Mr. Sebastian Sandford. He knew our Peggy before she came to us! Isn’t that exciting?”

“Miss Lepell.” Sebastian bowed. “And Miss Fitzroy. I must say, when you asked me to come meet you, I didn’t expect it to be in such grand style.” His eyes were on my gown, specifically my bodice.

“Oh, this?” I said loftily as I smoothed down my skirts. “Just my workaday clothes, I do assure you.” My flirtatious response was purely reflexive. What did he mean,
I
had asked him to meet me? I hadn’t even begun my letter to him. “For my part, Mr. Sandford, I had no idea you were friends with our Sophy.”

“Alas!” Sophy sighed, making her own bosom heave enough to divert Sebastian’s fickle attention. “I cannot claim friendship. It was only that I could not bear to see such a gentleman wander without a guide through our little gathering.” She smiled up at him and blinked her great, green eyes. “But now that Mr. Sandford is among friends, I will not intrude further.”

“Oh, but you must stay,” said Sebastian, and I ground my teeth. I could not tell whether he knew he’d just been trapped or not. “Perhaps if we talk a little, we may yet become friends. Not,” he added, with the sheen in his blue eyes that he seemed to be able to summon at will, “that a lady such as you requires the humble friendship of such as I.”

“I think I should be very pleased to count you as one of my dear friends,” murmured Sophy. I’d not seen her powers of flirtation at such close range. It was a subtle and deeply impressive performance. Judging from the way he stared, Sebastian thought so too.

“And since you and Peggy are friends, we must be too. Here’s my hand on it.” Sebastian held his hand out, and Sophy, hesitantly, delicately, gave him her fingertips, while with her other hand, she held her fan in front of her face to hide her blush. Sebastian bowed. Sophy curtsied. Molly breathed out something that sounded like a plea for help.

For my part, I swallowed a growl. But I also saw the next look that passed between Sebastian and Sophy. It was the acknowledgment of one master of the craft to another. These two knew exactly what they were doing. The only question was, why were they doing it at all?

I turned to Molly, letting her see the desperation in my eyes. I hated to involve her, but there was no one else nearby I could petition for help. Certainly not Mary. In fact, it was probably better for Mary Bellenden’s continued good health that she stay on the other side of the room.

Molly might be tired, but she was always quick to take a hint. “Oh, look, Sophy, there’s
le comte
de Troisheur. Her Royal Highness asked us particularly to look after him this evening.” Still talking, Molly scooped up Sophy’s arm and led her firmly toward that foreign gentleman.

I faced Sebastian. “Oh, dear. I do hope that wasn’t too awkward.” Then I quite deliberately snapped open my sandalwood fan.

Sebastian clearly recognized it. He swallowed, as if his Adam’s apple recognized my chosen weapon as well.

“How did you even get here?” I asked. “These evenings are by direct invitation only.”

I spoke
sotto voce.
Fortunately, we had our backs to the wall and a good view of the room, so no one could come up behind us or listen without being observed. We received some curious glances from the ladies of the company, and I noticed not a few of the gentlemen sizing Sebastian up, looking for some indication of his level of wealth and my level of interest.

“But you did invite me.” Sebastian pulled a folded letter from his pocket. “I received it today. I assumed you were ready to talk.”

I took it from him and did not bother to hide the gesture. There would be questions and quips about this later, but I opened it anyway.

The note inside was short and to the point.

Consider this your invitation to the gathering at St. James’s Palace this evening. I am looking forward to seeing you there,

Margaret Fitzroy

It was also in Sophy Howe’s writing. I recognized her hand perfectly. I had seen it before, on another letter also intended to deceive.

Anger robbed me of speech, but I couldn’t tell where to direct my fury first—at Sophy for luring Sebastian here, or at Mary Bellenden for telling Sophy about him. Oh, yes, there was no reason I should tell Mary to beware the Howe, as they were clearly close bedfellows.

“Oh, I must have forgotten,” I said through clenched teeth as I handed the note back to Sebastian.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at me, and I saw there an uncomfortable glimmer of intelligence.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere we can be private?” he inquired.

“Certainly not. It would be remarked on.”

“And bring yet more scandal to your name?” There was a certain malicious satisfaction behind the remark.

“Which might find its way into the papers. Do you see that man?” I flicked my fan toward a rotund individual in short-queue wig and saffron coat. “He regularly feeds information to the various broadsheets. I would have no problem making sure your name was attached as well, which ought to please your father.”

That remark seemed to strike home. “All right, all right. I shall be meek as a lamb. But if it’s not to renew our acquaintance, exactly why am I here?”

“You were the one who said we needed to talk,” I countered.

“I did, didn’t I? It seemed like a good idea at the time.” He paused, considering. “I suppose you realize by now, we’re still . . . as we were?”

I had to give him a point for discretion. The word
betrothed
would be heard by every ear in this place, no matter how softly whispered. “Yes. I suppose you realize I have no intention of
staying
as we are.”

“There are those ready to force the issue.”

“Are you one of them?”

Sebastian did not answer for a very long time. When he did, I barely heard him above the general babble and laughter of the room.

“No.”

This was not a safe conversation. People had begun to notice I was being monopolized. Sophy was not the only one casting ever more frequent glances in our direction.

“Your new friend takes quite an interest,” I said.

“Jealous?”

“Do you intend to attack her as well? How do you fit us all into your busy day?”

Sebastian made a low and thoroughly aggravated noise. “Miss Fitzroy, let us end this. I was wrong. I was more than wrong. I am sorry I did it, and upon my honor, I will not do it again. Are we quits?”

“I wish we could be. Why in Heaven’s name does your father, who is a baron and owner of massive sugar plantations in Barbados, want to marry even his second son to such a penniless, friendless creature?”

“I rather expect it’s because he doesn’t like me.” Sebastian was trying to speak humorously, but there was a genuine bitterness in those words. “That and, well, Miss Fitzroy, it would seem my family is in trouble.”

I frowned. “What sort of trouble?”

For one of the few times since I’d come to know him, Sebastian looked abashed. “Those plantations turn out to have been a bad idea. According to my brother, Julius, we’ve lost them.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “There was a hurricane that took the ships, and there was a plague that killed most of the slaves. The foreman decided that the gold would do more good in his pockets than in my father’s. So the acres were sold, my brother came home, and here we are.”

“When did this all happen?”

“Early last year. I found out about it shortly before I was told about my . . . our . . . situation.”

This news was going to take some time getting used to. Sebastian surveyed the room vaguely. Clearly his attention was still focused on his run of troubles. I noted his coat was not a new one, and the lace was beginning to fray around the edges. At the same time, I thought on the jar of tea in my room. I could not believe Sebastian would spend a small fortune on a bribe for me when his clothing needed mending.

“But wouldn’t that indicate you were destined for a rich bride?” In fact, it would have made more sense to betroth him to Olivia, who actually had a dowry. “If your family needs—”

“Oh, we need,” said Sebastian quickly before I could say the word
money
. “And yes, I would have thought so. Unless you’ve a secret fortune of some sort?”

“Not unless my uncle’s hiding something. Which, I grant, is not out of the question.”

The truth was, I’d never considered this. Then I wondered why I had not. The one thing I knew for certain about my father was that he’d spent some years adventuring for the crown. Such adventuring could be a profitable affair. Was it possible that my father, living or dead, had money and had intended that I should as well? Was it further possible that my uncle and my would-be father-in-law were in collusion to get their hands on it?

But that would mean that Uncle Pierpont had some idea where my father was and whether he still lived. It would also mean my uncle had known about any potential fortune since my mother died. I was only an eight-year-old child at that time. No one would have thought to tell me directly of any inheritance of money or property. They would, however, have told my guardian.

Was it possible? Could I be an
heiress
and not know it?

The possibility rendered me speechless, a fact that Sebastian failed to notice. “And thus, Miss Fitzroy, absent any fortune on your part, I find myself forced to ask for a favor.” Sebastian spoke without looking at me. He was engrossed in watching Sophy Howe, who stood laughing with a Mr. Beresford. To all appearances, she had forgotten poor Sebastian, but then she turned her head, as if suddenly feeling the touch of his gaze.

It was an astounding spectacle, and I was tempted to laugh out loud. Here they were, a pair of fortune hunters sizing up each other, neither knowing the other was penniless. They were lucky I was not the malicious sort; otherwise I might have considered throwing them together, just to watch the show.

“You want to ask
me
a favor?” I said, more loudly than necessary, but it did make Sebastian turn his attention from the fascinating and flirtatious Howe.

“Yes.” Somewhere between gazing at Sophy and gazing at me, Sebastian’s suavity had dimmed perceptibly. In fact, he now appeared positively sulky. “I’ll make a bargain with you. I’ll do everything in my power to get my brother to break off things—”

I blinked at him. “Your brother? You mean your father, surely.”

“Of course, of course, I meant Father.” Sebastian waved his hand impatiently. “You, in return, will get me a post at court.”

Sebastian’s brother was becoming quite the figure in this conversation. It occurred to me I’d never met the baron’s heir apparent. Which set me wondering about another member of Sebastian’s family.

“What does your mother have to say to all this?” I asked.

“My mother’s opinion is neither here nor there,” answered Sebastian sharply. “What do you say to the post? It has to be a good one, no assistant clerk to an assistant clerk. It must be something worthy of a baron’s son, with a salary.”

“Those don’t grow on trees.”

“That’s my price.”

“Why? You don’t want this either.”

Sebastian smiled as if he’d just scored a palpable hit. “But you want it a great deal less.” His eyes roved the room, and he nodded coolly, even in friendly fashion to the assorted gentlemen watching us together. “For myself, I don’t particularly care. I’m to be married off someday, and you’ll do as well as any other.”

If my palm pressed flat over my little pin-knife just then, it was purely coincidence.

“Why do I suspect that your father and your brother know nothing about this conversation?”

Sebastian shrugged. “First I was packed off to Barbados and then I was packed off to Cambridge. Now they can’t meet the price of keeping me out of the way and so are determined to make use of me. Well, I won’t have it.”