Chapter Eleven

Since she was here, Emily thought as she took tea with Victoria the following afternoon, she might as well have a go at finding a husband. And seeing as Sebastian had outright refused to aid her in this endeavour, she would have to sort something out for herself. Well, the man had refused to consider her proposal and he didn’t seem much inclined to marry her himself if the comment he had made in the carriage was anything to go by.

“Don’t even think about it.” Indeed. She hadn’t even welcomed the notion that Sebastian could be a viable choice as a husband.

She was now, however, and it was all because of Sophie’s silly little remark. Despite his lofty title, Emily imagined that she’d quite like to marry Sebastian. He was quite nice to her and very handsome, and his sense of humour was rather likable. However, he was Sebastian after all and a renowned rake. On top of that, he clearly did not want to marry her.

Hmmm. It wasn’t supposed to sting, but it did. Was she that unmarriageable that even her ‘brother’, the boy she had grown up with, found her quite detestable as a wife?

She sighed plaintively.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Victoria murmured with a speculative glint in her eye. “I’ve been out of sorts. Were you saying something?”

Emily shook her head and considered the other woman with an assessing look. It had been announced that morning that Victoria was betrothed to Gabriel Sinclair, which made the rest of the other guests’ presences there redundant. The unprecedented engagement was rather a surprise and entirely unexpected, albeit welcome. The change of atmosphere at Hawthorne was tangible, especially with regards to His Grace, Henry Sinclair- Gabriel’s grandfather- who appeared inclined to walk with a spring in his step and a ready whistle from his lips. It was a startling change from an otherwise dictatorial, overbearing man.

Victoria Colton, on the other hand, appeared to have turned positively dreamy. Pronounced unmarriageable, Victoria’s matrimonial state had been dubious before yet here she sat and if Emily did not know any better she’d assume the woman was quite in love. Just yesterday she had fervently denied such a possibility to the group of women at large as they observed the men fishing on the banks of Hawthorne’s lake.

“I did not say anything,” Emily explained. “I merely sighed.”

“Oh, right.” Victoria blinked at her owlishly. “Whatever for?”

Emily hesitated imperceptibly. Their friendship had blossomed into existence a mere two days ago when before she had scarcely paid Victoria Colton any heed at all. She did not find it easy to divulge her melancholy ponderings about a suitable husband to her just yet, or did she? Victoria appeared sincere enough and even went out of her way to befriend her when Georgina Prescott had thrown horrible accusations at her after yesterday’s fiasco. It was to everyone’s relief that Miss Prescott had seen it fit to leave Hawthorne this morning after the announcement of Gabriel and Victoria’s upcoming nuptials.

So Emily made a tentative moue with her fingers from where they were folded in her lap. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. Do go on daydreaming. I won’t interrupt you- I’m sure you have plenty to dream about!”

“Emily, I do believe you are teasing me,” Victoria murmured slyly, giving the woman a narrow look. She set aside her teacup and turned her attention fully to Emily. “I am done with dreaming now. What is bothering you?”

“It’s really nothing. I wouldn’t want to bother you-”

“Rubbish!” Victoria snorted indelicately. “You wouldn’t be bothering me at all. The suddenness of my situation is quite unnerving, is all, and I find myself prone to bouts of… um… distraction. I find I would like to hear something that isn’t at all related to my forthcoming wedding or my future husband. Please, I beg of you, confide in me?”

Emily was no match against the set of beguiling sapphire eyes thrown her way, so she relented rather easily. “Oh, alright. You’ve convinced me,” she muttered, teasingly begrudging.

“I am rather remarkable at convincing people,” Victoria agreed readily.

“And humble, too.”

She sniffed tartly. “Go on. You were saying?”

“Well, if you must know, I was pondering what to do about getting myself a husband.”

Victoria’s lips twitched. “A husband? Why would you want one of those?”

“Why do you?” Emily retorted cajolingly.

This made Victoria laugh huskily. “I suppose I could say that I find myself rather taken with Gabriel and that he couldn’t possibly be all bad. But what’s the rush for you? You’re yet an old maid. I would advise you to wait awhile before tying yourself to some half-wit-”

“Not all of them will be half-wits!” Emily protested laughingly.

“Good Lord, how many husbands do you intend to have?”

A thoroughly engulfing blush crept up Emily’s freckled cheeks and she looked rather abashed at Victoria’s ludicrously absurd statement. “Only one,” she felt compelled to assure her. “However, for a girl like me it is rather trying just to coax one to offer for me.”

Victoria cocked her head to the side and regarded Emily rather as if she were a curious specimen under inspection and then further analysis. Finally, she blinked slowly and tapped a long, tapered finger against the side of her cheek. “Hmmm. I find your words rather odd,” she murmured at last.

“Odd?” Emily repeated. “In what way?”

“You make it sound as if no man has ever attempted to look in your direction,” Victoria remarked.

“Well, it’s true.”

“Bah!”

“You sound just like Sophie.”

Victoria blanched. “Goodness, what a dreadful habit I’ve picked up. Although I do find myself admiring the old fox. I shall endeavour to have an enormous bejewelled cane when I am her age and I shall no doubt put it to good use on my husband.”

“Poor Gabriel,” Emily lamented meaningfully.

Victoria only grinned. “He is a bit of a rake, you see.”

“I’m aware. I doubt he will remain so married to you.”

The raven-haired woman crossed her arms furiously and gave Emily a haughty glance, pert nose tipped towards the chandeliered ceiling imperiously. “Naturally,” she said. “But back to the matter at hand, if you will. I believe you find yourself rather vexed.”

Her mind drifted hazily back to the previous day’s conversation with Sebastian about certain ‘vexations’ and she was quite certain that his was monumentally different from her own. She was also quite certain that it was not at all proper for young ladies of some repute to dwell overly long on that unfathomable ‘vexation’ of his. Although she was dratted curious about it. She was dratted curious about him, which was most disturbing. Every time she chanced to reminiscence about his naked slumbering form she felt abominably hot and flustered. Her mind went adrift into nonsensical lands of illicit sins and delights where Sebastian Weatherly starred, owning the key that unlocked the door to so many devilish secrets her toes began to curl with anticipation. Where this fascination with Sebastian had come from, she hardly knew but it would serve her little good dwelling on it for overly long. The man had made it abundantly clear that he was off-limits.

However, her blush at just the thought of a disrobed Sebastian was most notable. Victoria’s shrewd cobalt eyes narrowed on it immediately. “I cannot attract gentlemen,” Emily told her quickly. “Truly, Victoria. I am hopeless.”

“Ha! If you are hopeless, then I-”

Emily snorted dismissively, interrupting the other woman’s diatribe. “You are beautiful. Even if you are perceived as brazen, you have that. I, on the other hand, have freckles.”

Victoria’s nose wrinkled with affront. “What is the matter with freckles? I find them most becoming. Besides, you are well-endowed-”

“That,” Emily interrupted amid a furious blush, “attracts just the wrong sort of attention!”

“Hmmpf.” Victoria crossed her arms and frowned. “Well, it depends from who I suppose. But let’s see. Have you set your sights on anyone recently?”

Sebastian. Oh, traitorous mind, indeed! “Um…” Emily gnawed thoughtfully on her lip. “Well, Mr Blake seems rather nice.”

“Idiot,” Victoria dismissed gruntingly. “You’d be better off with Mr Toddley.”

Emily flinched with sympathy. “Poor man. I feel quite sorry for him.”

“He’s a cad.”

“Victoria!”

The other woman raised her brows challengingly. “What? He is. I cannot abide cads.” She paused, then added, “And idiots.”

Emily sighed. “Very well. Who do you think I should set my sights on? I would very much like to have a husband by the year is out. As you well know, I cannot live with Sophie and Sebastian forever. I’d like my own family and my own home.” What Emily did not mention to her friend was that once she had all of this, she’d be able to offer something to a mother who otherwise did not want anything to do with her. The thought of that day drifted through her mind with a frequency that paralleled the thought of Sebastian disrobed and tousled. Between the two, she was a very vexed woman indeed. Regardless, her mother’s rejection hurt and she longed to discover the truth. If she were married, she was quite certain she could convince her husband to house her mother, too. Once she knew that she was welcome in Emily’s home, Emily hoped that her mother might come to realise that she had a daughter she could be proud of. Or, at least, grant her a few moments of her time so that Emily could learn the truth behind her abandonment. God, if only she knew why…

“I caution you not to add haste to your decision,” Victoria advised. “But I think I know just who you should set your sights on.”

“Who?”

“You’re going to be quite shocked when I tell you, but I noticed that he was rather… attentive yesterday by the lake.”

“Towards me?”

Victoria gave her a dry look. “Of course you, you ninny!” she scolded.

“Who, Victoria? Oh, you must tell me this instant!”

Victoria leaned forward, excitement racing across her brow. Her eyes glowed with eagerness, with a secret that Emily longed to extract. “Sebastian, of course.”

The vivacity with which the word yes exploded in her mind left Emily frozen in a moment of utter shock and blistering realisation. Her jaw slackened, parting her lips slightly as the sensation rippled through her like the raging white water of a tumultuous river. Her reaction, she knew, was not because she did not agree with Victoria’s statement but rather that she found it rather appealing. She liked him, certainly. For the most part he was quite nice to her.

He’d make quite a splendid husband.

“Oh, my God,” she mouthed.

***

Down the hall and several passages to the left, Sebastian was indulging in Gabriel Sinclair’s finest brandy in celebration of his peer’s upcoming nuptials when Sophie burst into the study.

“Where the hell did she get another cane from?” Gabriel grumbled, perturbed.

Sophie flounced authoritatively toward them, her new bejewelled cane reverberating off the flagstones with an imperiousness that was wholly unnatural in an inanimate object. “Should we run?” Sebastian murmured to his companion, his eyes never leaving the threat of that damned cane.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“And abandon the brandy?” Gabriel asked incredulously.

Thump.

“Do you value your brandy more than your skull?”

THUMP.

“If I said yes, would you judge me?”

Thump! Thump!

Sebastian glared at him. “Without reserve,” he said acerbically. Fortunately for Sinclair, Sophie’s dictatorial cane had been muted by the Aubusson rug that sprawled before his desk. The wiry old lady halted before them and with regal disdain straightened her hunched, bony shoulders and stuck her nose in the air.

“Sinclair,” she ordered succinctly. “Out.”

Gabriel cast an apologetic look at Sebastian before gathering his glass and the brandy in his hands. “Sorry, old chap,” he mumbled, not at all sympathetic as he prepared to make his escape.

“Bloody traitor,” Sebastian told him testily. “The least you could do is leave me the brandy.”

Gabriel looked offended at that and before he ducked out the door, he grinned wickedly. “It’s too expensive for the likes of you, Rochester. I believe you are about to meet your creator, anyhow. It’d be a waste.”

Sophie turned to him at that and raised her cane in the air with emphatic thrusts. “I,” she boomed cantankerously, “am his creator!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Gabriel returned impishly before hurriedly making his departure.

Sophie turned back to her grandson, leaning on her cane. “That boy,” she announced with a crooked grin, “is decidedly wicked.”

Sebastian smothered a sigh and glanced longingly at his empty crystal glass that had once housed a hefty supply of amber liquor. “I assume there is a reason for your presence?” he asked.

“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy our little chats,” Sophie sniffed.

“Pretend?”

“You’re a fool.”

This time he allowed the sigh to come. “What is it, Sophie? I grow weary of this verbal tennis.”

Quite suddenly, all the obstinacy seeped from her shoulders, deflating her like a flaccid rag. The change was somewhat startling and Sebastian could only watch as a disconcerting weariness overcame his otherwise boisterous grandmother, making her appear old and haggard. It was a Sophie he was unused to. “I received a missive,” she said and her voice held no arrogance, none of the usual pomposity with which she laced her words, “regarding Emily’s mother.”

“They found her, then?”

There was a glint in Sophie’s lightly filmed eyes, a flicker of worry and concern. Usually the old woman was always so sure, so confident- this hesitancy unnerved him. “Not the men we sent out for her, no,” she explained. “She was found though.”

“I had surmised that would be a good thing,” Sebastian commented warily.

“She’s dead, Sebastian. Strangled, if the reports are correct. Her body abandoned in an alley. There were other details but I fear it is needlessly tasteless to divulge them. The point is that Joscelyn Rosse is dead.”

His only thought was of Emily, of the pain she was sure to endure when she learned of her mother’s demise, and a sickening, gut-wrenching agony twisted his heart. He’d sacrifice his own life to the depths of hell if he could prevent her one iota of misery.

“Sebastian,” Sophie croaked, aware that her grandson had turned ashen with the implications of her words. “I believe I know who killed her.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, unknowingly seeking sanctum from the shadows again, unknowingly willing the comforting image of Emily to embed itself behind the black curtains of his mind. A light, a warmth, he longed to bury himself in, he longed to nurture and mould as his own, claimed by his soul. But it was ever illusive, caked with torment- his untouchable love. The urge to protect, the need to shelter her from this devastation clamped his lungs, burned his throat.

“Are you listening to me?” Sophie demanded.

Sebastian only nodded, the blood pounding through his veins beating a roaring tattoo along the inner crevice of his ears.

“Her father, Sebastian. Her father killed her. She’s not safe from him. He’s in London! Good God, boy. Are you going to swoon?”

At that, he glared at her. “Of course not! What do you suggest we do?” he growled fiercely, his emotions too wrought for civility.

Sophie straightened, offended by his tone. “Why, we protect her, of course.”

“Naturally.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Watch your tone, boy. I could crack your skull, I could.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment.”

Sophie harrumphed. “I’ll expect you to send investigators to search for this man, whoever he is. It is imperative that he be found. Once we know who he is, we can discern how to next proceed. However, we need to make sure that Emily is protected thoroughly without letting on this information about her mother. It would make her quite distraught.”

“I don’t agree-”

“Would you care,” Sophie snapped disparagingly, “for another bout through London with that man looking for her?”

“No,” Sebastian said tersely.

“Then you will listen to my proposal and you will withhold this news from her until she is capable of acting rationally upon hearing it,” Sophie informed him. “Do you agree?”

Sebastian did not particularly feel for keeping something as significant as this from Emily, but he did not see any choice. Were she to discover her mother had been murdered, there was no telling how she would react. The truth of it all was that Sebastian could not be sure whether he’d be as lucky a second time should she choose to hightail it down the busy streets of London where any crook or lowlife could snatch her up and take her away… from him. He felt wretched for doing it, for agreeing with Sophie’s scheme, but he justified his concurrence by the thought of her safety. He would not be able to live with himself if anything befell Emily. Truly, he wouldn’t. So he nodded at Sophie, tautly and reluctantly. “Good,” she said crisply. “Now I suggest you marry the girl.”