“If you will excuse me, I believe I will have a word with him.”
“As you wish. I will see you later.”
Sebastian walked to where Curling was sitting by himself. There was a fresh bottle of port on the table beside him. Curling had already poured himself a glass. He glanced up at Sebastian with bleary eyes.
“Oh, it’s you, Angelstone. Join me?”
“Thank you.” Sebastian sat down and poured a small measure of port into a glass. He stretched out his legs and made a pretense of settling in for a long session of companionable drinking. He took only a small swallow of the rich, sweet port.
“Here’s to wedded bliss,” Curling sa id in a slurred voice. He raised his glass and downed half the contents. “I trust your lady is still managing to amuse you?”
“Very much.” Sebastian turned the glass between his hands.
“Tell me, is she still pursuing her little hobby?” Curling held his own glass so tightly his knuckles were white. He stared down into the contents as if peering into bottomless depths.
“She is still interested in spectral phenomena. The hobby amuses her and I have no objection to it.”
“Do you remember our conversation about ghosts at the castle?”
“Vaguely,” Sebastian said.
“I believe I told you that I thought it might be rather entertaining to actually encounter one.”
“I seem to recall you felt the experience would be an excellent tonic for the ennui you say plagues you.”
“I was a fool.” Curling rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You might be interested in knowing that I have since changed my mind.”
“Why?” Sebastian smiled without any humor. “Have you actually encountered one?”
Curling slumped farther into his chair and gazed into the middle distance. “What would you say if I told you that I am beginning to wonder if ghosts truly do exist?”
“I would say you have consumed too many bottles of port tonight.”
Curling nodded. “And you would no doubt be correct.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the armchair. “I cannot recall how many bottles I have had this evening.”
“I’m sure they will all be accounted for on your bill.”
Curling’s mouth twisted. “No doubt.”
There was silence for a moment. Sebastian made no attempt to end it. His instincts told him that Curling would do so soon enough. Unless the baron fell asleep first.
“Did you hear of Oxenham’s death, by any chance, Angelstone?” Curling asked after a moment. He did not open his eyes.
“Yes.”
“I knew him rather well,” Curling said.
“Did you?”
“He and I were friends.” Curling opened his eyes.
“I understand.”
“Never thought he’d be the type to put a pistol to his head.”
Sebastian examined his wine. “Perhaps he had suffered recent financial reverses. It is a common enough reason for suicide.”
“No. I would have known if he had lost a great deal of money.”
“Was he a gamester?”
“Only in a small way. He did not lose his fortune in a card game, if that’s what you’re implying.” Curling took another large swallow of port. “Nor was he prone to fits of melancholia. I don’t understand it.”
“Is it important to you that you find a reason for his suicide?” Sebastian asked carefully.
“I think so.” Curling’s hand bunched into a fist. “Bloody hell, yes. I have to know what really happened.”
“Why?” Sebastian asked gently.
“Because if it can happen to him and Ringcross, it can happen to all of us.” Curling finished his port and tried to put the glass down on the table. He missed. Abandoning the effort, he kept the glass in his hand.
“I don’t quite take your meaning, Curling. Perhaps you could explain.”
But Curling was beyond making coherent explanations, even if he had been so inclined. His head sagged into the corner of the wing chair. “Hard to credit that after all this time …” The words trailed off. He closed his eyes once more. “God help us. Perhaps we deserve it.”
Sebastian sat quietly for a few minutes, watching as Curling slid deep into a drunken slumber. He caught the glass just before it fell from the baron’s hand.
• • •
Sebastian did not get back to his town house until after one o’clock in the morning. There was plenty of time for reflection as his coachman made his way home through the streets. The cold fog had once again slowed the normally brisk late-night traffic to a crawl.
Through the window Sebastian watched the lamps of other vehicles appear and disappear in the gray mist like so many lost ghosts trying to find their way to a final resting place.
When his carriage eventually drew to a halt in front of his door, Sebastian got out and went up the steps with an odd sense of foreboding. Flowers opened the door promptly.
“A bitter night, m’lord.” Flowers held out his hand for Sebastian’s hat, coat, and gloves.
“An interesting night. Is her ladyship home yet?”
“Lady Angelstone arrived home over an hour ago.”
Prudence would be in bed by now, Sebastian thought. He did not know whether to be relieved or not. At least this way he would be able to avoid having to continue the uncomfortable conversation she had wanted to conclude earlier. On the other hand, if she was sound asleep he would not be able to tell her about Curling’s unusual behavior.
“Put out the lamps and go to bed, Flowers.” Sebastian untied his cravat as he started toward the stairs.
“I beg your pardon, sir.” Flowers cleared his throat portentously. “Madam has not yet retired for the evening.”
Sebastian paused, one foot on the bottom step. “I thought you said she was home.”
“She is, sir. I believe she is waiting up for you in the library.”
Sebastian smiled faintly. “I should have known.”
Prudence was not the sort of female who would be easily deflected from her course. She had been attempting to lecture him all day. There was no reason to think she would give up simply because it was after one o’clock in the morning.
Sebastian took his boot off the bottom step and walked back across the hall. Flowers opened the library door without a word.
For a moment Sebastian did not see Prudence. The library was dimly lit by a small blaze on the hearth. Much of the room was in shadow.
A soft, welcoming meow greeted him. Sebastian glanced first at his desk and then at the sofa that faced the hearth, Lucifer was curled on the back. Beneath his august perch a pool of lavender silk spilled over the edge of the sofa and fell to the carpet.
Sebastian went forward until he could look down over the back of the sofa. Prudence had kicked off her lavender satin slippers. She lay curled up, sound asleep in front of the fire. Her spectacles were on the end table next to a book she had evidently been reading.
For a long while Sebastian simply stood there gazing down at her. The warm light of the flames turned her honey-colored hair to dark gold and created a tantalizing shadow between her graceful breasts.
She was wearing another of her new ridiculously low-cut gowns. He decided that lavender was no better a shade on her than violet had been. But he could not deny that the deep neckline was an erotic frame for her gently curved breasts.
Sebastian felt himself growing hard as he contemplated the woman he had married. Everything about her was just right, he thought. Her intelligence, her passion, her amusing taste in clothes, even her annoying tendency to lecture him on his responsibilities. All those factors went together to make up Prudence. He would not change a single thing.
He had lived with her such a short time, yet he could not imagine being married to anyone else. He wondered if Prudence ever imagined herself being married to another man. Underbrink, for example.
Sebastian’s gut twisted at the thought. He knew he need not fear that Pr
udence would be unfaithful. He was certain she would never betray him. Her bone-deep integrity would make it impossible for her to dishonor him in that way.
But he could not help wondering how deeply she cared for him.
Mutual interests and mutual passion were all very well as far as they went, he thought, but they were no longer enough. He needed more from Prudence. He wanted her to love him.
The extent of his need for her love made him uneasy, but he could no longer deny it.
As he watched, she stirred on the sofa, snuggling into a more comfortable position. The ornately ruffled skirts of her new gown rode higher on her legs, revealing her silk stockings.
Sebastian peeled off his coat and tossed it onto a chair. He removed his dangling cravat and threw it aside. As he walked around the sofa he started to unfasten his shirt.
He was unable to take his eyes off Prudence. His body was already taut with desire. When he had finished undoing his shirt, he went down on one knee and slid his hand beneath the skirts of her gown. He closed his fingers around her soft thigh. He leaned forward and kissed her slightly parted lips.
“Sebastian?” Prudence’s lashes fluttered and then opened partway. She looked up at him with drowsy welcome. “Good evening, my lord. It’s about time you got home.”
“I’m glad you waited up for me.”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Later.” He covered her mouth again with his own, deliberately deepening the kiss to cut off her sleepy protest. After a second or two, she did not try to argue. Instead she sighed softly and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Sebastian slid his hand up higher under the lavender skirts and found the lush, firm curves of her derriere. With his finger he lightly traced the cleft that separated the two soft mounds.
Prudence trembled at the unexpected caress, but she did not pull away. Sebastian drew his questing finger lower, down between her thighs. When he found her snug feminine passage he gently penetrated it and discovered that she was already becoming moist for him.
“Sebastian.”
There was a sleepy passion in her voice that sent another surge of pulsating desire through Sebastian. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and reached down to unfasten his breeches.
God, how he wanted her, he thought. All he had to do was look at her and his blood began to heat. The craving deep within him seemed insatiable. He had to have her. Tonight and forever.
The embers of the questions that had been burning within him all afternoon flared into fresh flames. Do you love me, Prue? Can you love me in spite of the cold?
He would not ask the questions, he promised himself. The answers did not matter. After all, she wanted him. There was no question of that. He could feel it. She did not even attempt to hide her physical reaction to him.
It was enough. It had to be enough.
Sebastian scooped Prudence lightly off the sofa. He lowered himself back onto the carpet and tumbled her down on top of him.
Her gossamer gown had not been designed to withstand such activity. Her graceful breasts sprang free. Sebastian caught them in his palms.
He looked up at Prudence, who was watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. He could feel his manhood throbbing beneath the tantalizing weight of her body.
Without a word, he reached down and opened his breeches. Lavender silk cascaded over his rigid shaft. He grabbed a fistful of Prudence’s ruffled skirts and dragged them up to her waist.
“Sebastian?”
“Take me inside you,” he said urgently. “Hurry, sweet. I cannot wait.”
She fumbled briefly, then her fingers closed tightly around him. Sebastian sucked in his breath. She began to guide him into her, growing bolder as she gained confidence.
“That’s it. Open for me,” he whispered. “Let me inside. All the way inside.”
Sebastian groaned when he felt the slick, damp heat of her. When her tight body slowly began to accommodate him, he sighed. She was so warm and he had been cold for so long.
He was just barely inside her now and he could not stand the torment any longer.
“Now, love. I have to have you now.” Sebastian tightened his hands on her thighs and pulled her legs more securely around his hips.
Then he clasped her waist and pushed her downward as he thrust upward.
Prudence cried out softly as he forged into her tight, moist passage. She closed around him. Sebastian felt his whole body start to clench in response. He found the small, swollen bud between her legs and began to tease it with his fingers.
He felt Prudence hold herself still for a moment as she adjusted to the deep penetration. He closed his eyes as he felt the warmth of her body seeping into him.
Then she began to move slowly. She lifted herself again and again, gliding up and down his heavy shaft. Sebastian lifted his lashes and was enchanted by the sight of her in the firelight. Her head was tipped back. Her hair was heated gold by the flames of the fire. The line formed by her throat and breasts was the most elegantly sensual sight Sebastian had ever seen.
When she gently convulsed in her release Sebastian shuddered heavily and surrendered to the raging torrent that roared through him.
A long while later he finally stirred. Prudence was still lying on top of him. He opened his eyes and saw that she was drifting off to sleep.
The questions came back with such force that he could no longer push them aside.
“Prue?”
“Ummm?” Her voice was husky. She did not open her eyes.
“Why did you marry me?”
“Because I love you.”
Sebastian went utterly still. His clever mind was, for once, in a complete muddle. He could not even think for a moment.
“Prue?”
There was no response. He realized that she had fallen sound asleep.
After a while, Sebastian eased himself out from under her, lifted her up off the carpet, and carried her upstairs.
He tucked her carefully under the covers and then he got in beside her. He lay against the pillows, his arm around Prudence, until the fog outside the window had turned a paler shade of gray.
The cold dawn had arrived. It was barely visible through the dark mist, but it was there.
Sebastian went to sleep.
Seventeen
rudence had difficulty concealing her astonishment the next morning when she and Sebastian were ushered into the hall of Lord Bloomfield’s town house.
There was barely room to move. Crates and boxes were stacked everywhere. Old newspapers were piled high in the corners. A strange mix of items cluttered the hall. Books, globes, small statues, walking sticks, and hats filled all the available space.
The chaos continued up the staircase. Only half of each step was visible. The other half was taken up with a trunk, a crate, or a pile of old clothes.
There was a dank, airless feeling in the town house, Prudence thought, as if no one ever opened the windows. It was also quite dark. An oppressive sense of gloom pervaded the atmosphere of the dank hall.
She slanted a sidelong glance at Sebastian from beneath the large, sweeping brim of her new violet straw bonnet. She had to hold the trailing ends of a huge purple bow out of the way in order to see him clearly. He was examining the surroundings with carefully veiled curiosity.
“His lordship never throws nothin’ away,” the slatternly housekeeper announced with a touch of pride.
“I can see that,” Sebastian said. “How long has Bloom-field lived here?”
“Oh, some time now. But he only started accumulatin’ stuff about three years ago.” The housekeeper chuckled hoarsely. “His old housekeeper quit about that time and I took the job. Far as I’m concerned the master can store anything he pleases so long as he pays me my wages.”
The door to what once must have been the drawing room stood open. Prudence took a quick look inside and saw that the room was filled to overflowing with more crates, papers, and other assorted items. She noticed the drapes were pulle
d.
“Watch yer step.” The housekeeper led the way along a narrow path through the hall. “We don’t get many visitors here. His lordship likes his privacy.” She chortled again. Her broad back heaved with the force of her mirth.
Prudence glanced again at Sebastian. She was uncertain of his mood today. He had talked of little else except this visit to Bloomfield since he had gotten up this morning. He had not said one word about last night.
For the life of her, Prudence still could not tell if her small confession of love had had any effect on him.
He had taken her by surprise last night. She had been half asleep when he had asked his startling question. She had been caught off guard, warm and relaxed from his lovemaking. She had responded without thinking.
Why did you marry me?
Because I love you.
Her first conscious thought upon awakening this morning was that she had made a serious error. All along she had been uneasy about how Sebastian would react to a declaration of love from her. His failure to mention it today had only made her all the more anxious.
She would have given a fortune to know what he was thinking. She could not tell if he was irritated or merely bored with the notion that his wife was in love with him.
It occurred to Prudence that she might not have said the words aloud. Relief went through her at the thought. Perhaps she had only dreamed that she had told Sebastian she loved him.
But surely if she had been dreaming, she would have also dreamed his answer. The sad reality was that either way, aloud or in her dreams, there had been no response from Sebastian. If he knew now that she loved him, he had apparently decided to politely overlook the fact.
Perhaps it did not amuse him.
“The master’ll see ye in here.” The housekeeper paused beside a flowerpot that contained the remains of a long-dead plant. She opened a door.
Prudence felt Sebastian’s hand tighten briefly on her arm as if he instinctively wanted to draw her back. She peered into Bloomfield’s library, wondering why it was filled with the gloom of night at this hour of the day.
Prudence glanced around and realized that all the drapes had been drawn. Only one lamp burned on the desk in the corner.