The Duke's Legacy (17 page)

“Why? Would it not be safer for them to await your departure?”

“Possibly, but they’re as arrogant as they are desperate and have probably convinced themselves I pose little threat. Either that or they wish to make a point. Go now, if you please, Hodges, and ensure Sally’s safely ensconced in Lady Abigail’s room. And make sure she locks the door firmly behind her before you retire yourself.”

“Consider it done,” Hodges said with a martyred sigh.

Chapter Twelve

When Sebastian entered the breakfast-parlour the following morning, it was his misfortune to find only Lord Evans in occupation of it. Disinclined to further the antagonism between them, Sebastian attempted to engage him in conversation. Evans threw Sebastian a disdainful look and made no effort to be even superficially polite. Elbows rudely planted on the table, he rested his head in his hands, toyed with a dry piece of toast and didn’t utter a single word.

Sebastian shrugged, neither surprised nor unduly concerned. Evans disliked and resented Sebastian and that was an end to it. Having broken his fast at his leisure, Sebastian went in search of the other gentleman. They were all in the billiards room except Bevan and Evans, who had apparently taken refuge in the library. Of the ladies there was no sign but Sebastian knew they would be together somewhere, doing whatever ladies did to pass the time when the weather was inclement.

He had no specific concerns for Abbey’s safety since even Mary Bevan wouldn’t try to stage an accident in full view of the rest of the party. She might well have been responsible for the incident with the peach ratafia but that had taken place in someone else’s household where she would never have been suspected. Besides, it had been attributed to an unfortunate case of food poisoning. Sebastian was counting on Mary being too fearful in a house full of servants who always knew precisely where everyone was to risk any misfortune befalling its mistress and having the finger of accusation levelled in her direction.

Sebastian’s mind wasn’t on billiards and he earned Charlie’s derision when he missed an easy shot. He flashed a wry smile, wondering what Charlie would make of it if he knew the female responsible for his preoccupation was Mary Bevan. He was more convinced than ever of her involvement in the plot against Abbey. The evidence, such as it was, together with his dependable sixth-sense, pointed to her. The only problem was that unlike Charlie, whose motivation was now plain to Sebastian, he couldn’t think of a single reason why Mary would wish to harm Abbey. Unless Charlie knew something to her discredit and was using it to force her co-operation? It didn’t seemly likely but he’d exhausted all other possibilities.

Amiably admitting defeat and surrendering his cue to Tobias, Sebastian gazed out of the window, still deep in thought. It had ceased snowing and the dark clouds of yesterday had been replaced by brittle winter sunshine. Rays reflected off the snow, causing it to sparkle like multi-faceted diamonds, completely transforming the hibernating winter garden. He recalled how much Abbey enjoyed snow and hoped she observed it for herself before the sun waned and the moment passed.

Laughter from the side of the house ignited Sebastian’s curiosity and he moved to another window to see who was responsible for it. The sight that greeted him made him smile. Three small girls—Harold’s and Mary’s presumably—were building a snowman under the watchful eye of a severe-looking governess. The girls demonstrated more enthusiasm than skill for the project, but that wasn’t what held his attention. It was Abbey, her cousin Beatrice and Laura Graves who were causing all the noise. Bundled up against the cold, they hurled snowballs at one another, their laughter loud as they argued about the number of direct hits. Sebastian should have known Abbey would be in the thick of it. Her dogs were there too, adding to the mayhem as they chased one another in clumsy circles and then streaked off in tandem after the snowballs Abbey threw for them.

Suddenly the walls of the house felt as though they were closing in on him and Sebastian couldn’t bear to be indoors for a moment longer. If nothing else, perhaps the frosty air would help to unscramble his brain and help him to work out what Mary had to gain by Abbey’s demise. Slipping unobserved from the billiards room, he fetched his caped driving coat and gloves and stepped out into the garden.

Abbey, cheeks flushed rosy red, the remnants of a snowball dripping from her sodden curls, held a deadly-looking mound of snow in her gloved hand. She moulded it purposefully, her eyes dancing as she took aim.

“I give you due warning, Bea. I’ll have my revenge for that last one.”

She’s a child again, Sebastian thought, guessing there hadn’t been nearly enough days like this in her life since the death of her parents. Laughing, she lifted her arm and let fly but Bea dodged at the last moment, took refuge behind the half-constructed snowman and left Sebastian directly in the line of fire. The snowball landed full-square in the centre of his chest and slithered down his coat.

“Oh dear!” Abbey clasped a hand to her mouth but failed to smother her laughter. “Pray excuse me, I didn’t see you there, Lord Denver.”

“Evidently not.”

“We are supposed to be assisting my nieces with their snowman.” Bea grinned as she poked her head out from behind the creation in question. “But then Abbey distracted us with a snowball fight.”

“Which she cannot be allowed to win,” Laura added.

“We shall see about that,” Abbey replied, scooping up a further handful of snow.

“Please allow me to present Megan, Alice and Ellen, and their nurse, Miss Frobisher,” Bea said. “Girls, this is Lord Denver.”

Megan and Alice curtsied but little Ellen took fright and hid behind the humourless Miss Frobisher.

“Your servant, ladies.” Sebastian bowed, causing the older two to giggle.

“We’re making a snowman,” Megan told him, her pinched features a mirror image of her mother’s. “Would you like to help us? Aunt Bea and Aunt Abbey were helping but then they stopped to play with the dogs.”

Megan backed away from Marcus and Marius as they gambolled up to join the group, tongues lolling from the sides of their mouths, tails wagging expectantly.

Sebastian hunkered down to the girls’ level. “It just so happens that I enjoy building snowmen,” he said.

He proceeded to prove it by supplying bigger handfuls of snow than the children could manage with their tiny fingers. They wedged it into place beneath his supervision, quickly losing all shyness. Even little Ellen was persuaded to rejoin her sisters. Miss Frobisher maintained an expression as frosty as the conditions, clearly unimpressed with grand gentlemen who had nothing better to do with their time than to play at children’s games. She jumped with lightning speed upon any of her charges who dared to exhibit the slightest signs of spontaneity. They became subdued the moment the woman spoke, causing Sebastian to wonder how someone with Harold’s compassionate nature could condemn his daughters to long hours under the forbidding eye of this dragon. Only by reminding himself that Mary would be the one to take responsibility for the employment of her children’s governess did it start to make any sense.

“What do you suppose he lacks?” Sebastian asked, standing back with Abbey and the girls to examine the result of their labours.

“A nose, of course.” There was a note of scorn in Megan’s voice.

“And eyes,” Alice added.

“You’re right.” Sebastian pretended to think about it. “Do you think his head might be a little chilly, and his neck, too? Perhaps we should find him a hat and a scarf while we’re about it.” He twinkled at Alice, reducing her to giggles. “We wouldn’t want him to catch cold, would we now?”

“Snowmen can’t catch cold,” Megan said, displaying traits of the ungenerous nature her mother kept under closer guard.

“They most certainly can. Just look, his nose is already running.” This produced more giggling, even from Megan. “What do you say, girls, shall we make him more comfortable?”

“Yes, let’s!” Ellen, all shyness forgotten, jumped from foot to foot in her excitement. Sebastian swept her into his arms and swung her over his head, making her giggle and beg for more.

“I would prefer it if you didn’t agitate her, my lord,” Miss Frobisher said. “She’s prone to sickness when she becomes over-excited.”

“Really.” Sebastian raised a brow and fixed the woman with an indolent look. Miss Frobisher sniffed and retreated to the stone seat which the children had cleared for her a short distance away.

“Mama will be wondering what’s become of me,” Bea said, bending to address the children, “I’ll return to the house and beg a carrot from cook for our snowman’s nose, find buttons for his eyes and see if Richards can find an old hat and scarf to keep him warm.”

“Yes, please!” three enthusiastic voices cried in unison.

“Hurry please, Aunty Bea,” Alice added alone. “He’s dripping.”

“I’ll go too,” Laura said, “but I shall return directly with our snowman’s wardrobe.”

It was a footman who delivered the required treasures, Laura having decided she was too cold to venture out of doors again. As soon as the snowman had been adorned with his final touches, Miss Frobisher ushered the reluctant children back into the house. Sebastian, anxious not to be seen alone with Abbey, took her elbow and turned her away from the windows overlooking the garden.

“Stroll this way with me.”

“Indeed I will since I most particularly wish to speak with you. What did you mean by insisting Sally share my chamber last night?”

Sebastian had been expecting her annoyance and was ready for it. “I felt safer knowing she was bearing you company rather than entertaining Hodges.”

Abbey covered her mouth with her gloved hand, but not before he saw her lips shape themselves into an astonished
oh
.

“Sally’s a good girl. She wouldn’t do that.”

Sebastian cocked one brow. “Would she not?” When Abbey remained stubbornly silent, Sebastian spoke again. “Hodges can be very persuasive and is popular with the opposite sex.”

“Lord Denver, this is hardly a suitable topic of conversation between us.”

“Is it not?” He feigned surprise. “With an enquiring mind sure as yours, I should have thought you’d be intrigued. The power of the human instinct to procreate tends to overcome the dictates of even the strictest societies. It’s been thus for millennia.”

“Please tell me Sally isn’t increasing.”

Sebastian laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Hodges was careful.”

Her eyes sparkled with interest and Sebastian suspected she had a thousand questions. Instead of voicing them she lifted her chin and changed the subject. Probably just as well, he thought.

“What discoveries have you made?” she asked.

“That Lord Evans doesn’t care for my company.”

Abbey giggled. “Indeed he does not! He warned me quite forcefully to avoid you.”

“Which is very mean-spirited of him. I’m a fine person, though I do say so myself.”

She canted her head and slanted him a glance, looking as though she wanted to laugh. “But lacking in humility, perhaps?”

He opened his eyes very wide in mock astonishment. “I have something to be humble about?”

This time she did laugh. “If you must know, Lord Evans thinks you are a lost cause. I expect he’s right about that. He is also afraid I might become tainted by association if I spend too much time in your company.”

Sebastian’s lips twitched. “I’m not contagious.”

“He accuses you of taking shameful advantage of certain ladies and then deserting them.” She bit her lower lip, still struggling not to smile, it seemed. “I was never more shocked.”

“Really?” They wandered beneath a stand of trees. Both of them were hatless and the thawing snow dripped from the overhanging branches straight onto their heads. Sebastian pulled the hood of Abbey’s cloak over her damp curls. “Does he suppose I intend to seduce you?”

“That or something worse.”

“What could possibly be worse?” he asked, chuckling.

“It’s difficult to imagine, but I’m sure there must be something.”

She spoke lightly but a cloud passed across her eyes and Sebastian could tell he had lost her attention.

“What is it? What troubles you?”

“Oh, don’t mind me.” She absently plucked a snow-covered leaf from a nearby bush and then cast it aside. “I’m probably just being foolish.”

“Even so, if something’s worrying you, you ought to tell me about it.”

“It’s nothing to do with your reasons for being here. Besides, you will think me foolish if I tell you.”

He grasped her arm and turned her to face him. “I think many things about you, little one,” he said softly. “But never once have I thought you are silly.”

“No, but you think of me as a child and if I admit what’s on my mind it will reinforce that impression.”

Sebastian thought of her as she had been when he’d looked through the billiards room window earlier—throwing snowballs and laughing like a child. But there was nothing childish about her now. She was a woman again—a fascinating, spirited, beautiful woman who was occupying far too many of his thoughts for all the wrong reasons.

“Just tell me.”

“All right, if you promise not to laugh.” She paused and then indicated the bare branches of the magnificent oak tree they were standing beneath. “I was just thinking I’ve never once seen this tree in full leaf.”

“Because you only come here in winter for the hunting?”

“I was standing under this tree when I saw my father alone for the last time. He’d just returned from a day’s hunting. I heard him, escaped my governess and ran out to meet him. We stood here, just as you and I are doing at this moment, and my father talked to me like I was a grown up. He told me all about the excellent day’s sport he had enjoyed.” She paused, her face averted from his. “It was almost the last time we shared a private word because three weeks later they were both dead.”

She turned to look at him again. One fat tear ran down her face and Sebastian would have given half his fortune at that moment to be able to relieve her pain. She was too set upon pleasing the people surrounding her, he suspected, to articulate her worries about her situation to them. He felt glad she was unburdening herself to him but didn’t think she was doing so now because she required his sympathy. Nor would he make the mistake of showing any.