The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex)

The Duke in Denial

Alexandra Ainsworth

Sanguinity Press

Copyright © 2014 by Alexandra Ainsworth
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Edited by Jennifer Quinlan
Cover Art by Angela Waters

Published by Sanguinity Press

Contents

• The Duke in Denial
  

• Chapter One
  

• Chapter Two
  

• Chapter Three
  

• Chapter Four
  

• Chapter Five
  

• Chapter Six
  

• Chapter Seven
  

• Chapter Eight
  

• Chapter Nine
  

• Chapter Ten
  

• Chapter Eleven
  

• Chapter Twelve
  

• Chapter Thirteen
  

• Chapter Fourteen
  

• Chapter Fifteen
  

• Chapter Sixteen
  

• Chapter Seventeen
  

• Chapter Eighteen
  

• Chapter Nineteen
  

• Chapter Twenty
  

• Chapter Twenty-one
  

• Chapter Twenty-two
  

• Chapter Twenty-three
  

• Chapter Twenty-four
  

• Chapter Twenty-five
  

• Epilogue
  

• Mailing List
  

• About the Author
  

• Reviews
  

The Duke in Denial

Sebastian Lewis never expected to become a duke. But with the sudden deaths of his cousin and uncle, Sebastian’s position changes. He is determined to fulfill his new responsibilities with grace, even if it means remarrying, and even if the attractions of women, so often lauded by poets, fail to interest him.

Captain William Carlisle, newly returned from India, is elated when he meets Sebastian. Nobody knows of his inclinations, but his harrowing experiences in battle have prompted him to reach for the type of companionship he longs for. He thinks Sebastian might feel an attraction as well, but to his dismay, he discovers that Sebastian is courting his sister Dorothea.

After a semi-arranged engagement and a disconcerting romantic tangle with William, Sebastian escapes London to look after his manor, only to face mysterious thefts, a headless ghost, threat of a French invasion, and the arrival of his fiancée, her brother, and his family. Amid this growing turmoil, Sebastian must sort out his feelings for his fiancée’s brother and keep his home safe . . . and determine if he has the courage to reach for his own happiness in the process.

Chapter One

London, 1804

Sebastian Lewis prayed his top hat wouldn’t be swept away. Tonight, Aunt Beatrice would introduce him to the woman he would marry, and arriving hatless was decidedly not how he desired to make an entrance. Perhaps Yorkshire country squires darted about lacking essential wardrobe items, but Sebastian was a duke now, and he needed to act properly. Somerset Hall depended on him.

Crisp wind buffeted his face, and fallen leaves elevated and danced around his legs. He pulled his hat tighter and hurried along the perimeter of Hyde Park. The flickering flames of whale oil lamps glinted off the windows of surrounding buildings, and suffused the area with a fishy odor.

Few pedestrians strolled the streets; the wind and prospect of rain likely dissuaded all but those with pressing business. Carriages passed, their decorations growing increasingly elaborate with golden crests and brightly painted wheels, as he neared the festivities.

He would marry whomever his aunt chose. He never understood why some people agonized over the decision, even marrying for love and breaking ties with their family. He had never met a woman who inspired him to do that. It was so gratifying to do what was right and make his family happy. What could top that pleasant sensation?

Not that he felt pleasant now. Perhaps that would come later. Instead, his chest tightened and his stomach quivered.

Towering red brick homes loomed around him as he approached his aunt’s townhouse on Grosvenor Square. Dark smoke puffed from chimneys. A soldier in a scarlet uniform ambled down the street, his powerful form moving in confident strides. Sebastian forced his attention away, instead focusing on the sounds of a well-tuned violin drifting from an open window.

He craned his neck to examine the building, and a gust of wind lifted his hat off his head. It soared into the starry sky. He raised his hand, his stomach already dropping.

The top hat sailed across the street.

He hurried one step behind, conscious of how foolish he must appear to all the people riding by in carriages. The hat flew into the square, and he rushed across the road.

“Get off the street, fool,” a hackney driver shouted, his cockney accent amplifying the abusive words.

Sebastian winced. The top hat didn’t cooperate, and it caught on a high branch, taunting him. He clenched his jaw and shook the tree with his cane, bathing himself in a shower of dry leaves. The hat refused to fall. People must have spotted him running after it, and the thought of now appearing at the ball without his hat appalled him.

Climbing in evening dress was perhaps not advisable, but he only needed to reach the next branch, and then he would be able to grasp the elusive beast. He exhaled, relieved to have a plan. He could accomplish this.

He clambered up the trunk and swung his hand over to the lowest bough. Getting a firm grip, he shifted his weight. Now he only needed to move his other arm to the branch, and then he could pull himself up.

“You’ll not get it down like that.” A rich, northern accent broke through the darkness, shattering the night. The melodic voice swept away all memory of the staid, polished voices of the ton and ushered Sebastian to a hilltop where missing hats didn’t cause alarm.

He tried to find the owner of the voice, momentarily forgetting his precarious position. His shoulders relaxed and his hand slipped. He dangled-one handed, his feet kicking in the air, lacking the earlier support of the trunk. He cursed. He could still swing up but would risk tearing his clothes, and showing up at the ball with torn clothing would be impossible. He glanced down at the ground, scattered with leaves, twigs, and roots. He suspected he would find himself there soon. Something moved in the darkness, and an upturned face appeared below.

“You startled me.” Sebastian frowned and swayed on the branch, unsure whether to just drop down or try to climb up. Both options would lead to negative repercussions for his apparel. The man laughed. “I think you need help.”

“I was doing just fine before you came,” Sebastian muttered. He might be athletic, but tree-hanging was not a common occupation for him. He lifted his other arm. If he swung—

Sebastian fell.

He maintained some dignity by landing on both feet, his attire intact. Unfortunately, that dignity was mostly achieved because of the strong arms that caught him on his way down, steadying him.

He took note of the long fingers that still grasped his waist. He leaned against the man’s chest, and a surge of warmth filled him. Too much warmth. He swiveled, facing the stranger and creating some distance between them. He forced himself to steady his breath. Light from the nearby townhouses illuminated his view.

A tall man with dark curly tendrils and warm brown eyes stared at him. Broad shoulders filled his uniform, and Sebastian’s gaze lingered on the man’s chiseled features, resting on his strong jaw. His heart raced and his breath caught, overwhelmed by an inappropriate desire to trace the faint stubble. He forced himself to avert his eyes and concentrated on the exquisite buttons and gold thread adorning the man’s attire. He inhaled. The man smelled wonderful. Like pine needles. Like Christmas garlands and all things good.

Horses’ hooves pattered on the cobblestones, signaling the arrival of a new group of guests.

The man’s eyes darted to the street. He stepped away and straightened his uniform. Partygoers trickled into the townhouse, the women lifting the hems of their dresses to avoid sullying them.

The officer swooped down and picked up a stone. He grimaced for a moment and transferred the rock to his left hand. The piece of granite shimmered in the moonlight. “I have always found when battling a tree, a rock is the best weapon.”

Sebastian struggled to find words. “Are you saying the tree is Goliath?”

“If that means I can be David.” Amusement filled the man’s voice as he approached the tree.

Sebastian’s heart pounded, no doubt rivaling the sound of the horses’ hooves. “You are too big to be a proper David.”

The man grinned, and heat rushed to Sebastian’s cheeks. Surely the man did not think he referred to Michelangelo’s statue?

“Nevertheless, I shall conquer the tree.” He threw the stone at the branch. The top hat slid off, toppling toward the ground, and the stranger caught and passed it to him.

Sebastian drew in his breath and ran his fingers against the hat’s felted beaver fur. Relief surged through him, and he exhaled. “Thank you.”

“I trust the experience has not harmed you?”

Sebastian shivered at the pleasing tone of the man’s deep voice. He nodded, ever conscious of the stranger’s wide shoulders, marked by golden epaulets.

The man stepped nearer, and his feet rustled the leaves. “And whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

Sebastian paused, not wanting to share his name. The man might recognize it, and he didn’t want the man’s demeanor to change. Most people acted differently once they found out he was a duke. Something about the vast amounts of money and land. “Sebastian.”

The man beamed, and his body straightened under the soft glow of the moonlight. He looked regal. “And I’m William.”

Sebastian averted his gaze. His heart pounded as he became conscious that he was now on a first-name basis with this stranger.

“You’re an officer,” Sebastian said, staring at William’s chest.

“Indeed. You’re quite observant.”

Blood rushed to Sebastian’s face. He must be blushing. How had he not grown out of that? The man was wearing a uniform. Likely the golden stripes that decorated it displayed the exact rank. He sighed. “To Spain?”

“India. And I imagine you are going to the ball.”

“I am. Are you?” Sebastian realized he was holding his breath, eager for their conversation to continue. Energy pulsed through him, and he felt alive. The stars sparkled above as if to amplify the moment.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” William smiled, meeting his gaze. “I’m joining my sister there now.”

Sebastian nodded. “How nice you have a close relative here. London can be a bit overwhelming.”

William grinned. “That’s because you attempt to climb all the trees. In the middle of Grosvenor Square, no less.”

Sebastian smiled. “If you hadn’t startled me . . .”

“Then nobody would have caught you.”

The corners of Sebastian’s lips rose. Perhaps William had a point.

“Anyway,” William continued, “I’ve been finding the place rather dull.”