Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

Somewhere in Greentree Manor a clock was chiming midnight. Sebastian sat up and rubbed his eyes, forcing himself awake. There was work to be done. He needed to pay a visit to Hal. He needed to see the expression on Hal’s face when he realized Sebastian hadn’t perished in the mire after all, but had returned to take his vengeance.

The cold water in the basin helped, and he splashed it over his head, then proceeded to dry himself vigorously with the towel. Of course he was tired, he was still recovering from the mire, but he couldn’t afford to stop now that he was well and truly on the trail of his prey.

Sebastian’s own clothing had been placed at his bedside, cleaned and pressed by meticulous servants. He dressed and slipped through the door, onto the narrow landing, aware of the stillness around him. The Jardines had put him at the farthest end of the house, far away from the family, and that amused him. Mr. Thorne was not respectable. Did they fear he would creep into Francesca’s bedchamber in the night and ravish her?

For a moment he was overwhelmed by the images he’d conjured. Francesca, all warm and rumpled with sleep, turning over and smiling at him with her deliciously sensual mouth. He’d take down the bedclothes, so that she’d be lying there…Would she be naked? Reluctantly he abandoned that idea. She’d be in her nightdress, and he’d undo the tiny buttons one by one, opening it over her breasts and belly and thighs, and bending his head to kiss every inch of her.

He groaned, then instantly froze, glancing around the landing. This was madness! He must stop it immediately, or the next time he met up with Hal he wasn’t going to survive the encounter.

The oil lamp on the hall table flickered in the draft, as he made his way down the stairs. He turned left. He’d made a quick survey of the layout of the house before he went to bed, and now he moved without hesitation to the back door and reached to draw the bolt.

His hand stilled. The bolt was already drawn. For a moment surprise paralyzed him, and then he gave a soft, relieved laugh. He was deep in the countryside here, where doors were rarely locked. After all, Sebastian mocked himself, who would be foolish enough to be abroad at this time of night? He cracked open the heavy door and slipped through, closing it noiselessly behind him.

Outside the wind had dropped and the rain had ceased, the storm having given way to a cold, clear night. He looked up, and acres of stars shone down on him. He should be able to see well enough to traverse the moors without blundering into any more mires. If he could borrow a horse from the stables—grooms, he had found, were always open to a bit of bribery—then he could ride to the village and see Hal.

Sebastian made his way toward the stables, taking a circuitous route via the lawn so that his boots didn’t crunch on the gravel path. Ahead of him the buildings appeared dark and deserted, and he was thinking that perhaps he wouldn’t need to bribe anyone after all, when he felt a prickling at his back.

Someone was watching him.

Sebastian turned slowly, already plastering a false smile on his face as he ran through possible excuses for being out here so late.

Francesca Greentree stood a little way off, her curling hair like a dark halo in the starlight, and her eyes pools of shadow.

“Mr. Thorne?” she said, as startled as he. “Whatever are you doing?”

He strolled toward her—her voice had been loud and he didn’t want to wake anyone. “What am I doing? I might ask the same of you, Francesca. It is past midnight. I thought countryfolk went to bed with the sun.”

She’d been watching him approach, as if she might turn and run, but his words fired up her temper, as he knew they would. “Some of us countryfolk have the stamina to stay up beyond dusk,” she said drolly. “I was checking on Wolf and his family.” Her voice softened. “He and his mate have four puppies.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the doting way she said it. “You love that dog, don’t you?”

“More than most people.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

“Because he’s loyal and he will never leave me.”

In the silence that followed, he sensed she had disconcerted herself. “Is that what you demand from a lover, too, Francesca? Loyalty and staying power?”

She looked away, hesitated, and then said candidly, “I’ve never had a lover. And before you offer to step into the breach, I don’t want one. I have resigned myself to a life alone. No, not resigned. I look forward to it. Believe me, Mr. Thorne, I have seen too much unhappiness to allow myself to sail into those dangerous waters.”

“In case there’s a shark?” he mocked.

“Exactly.”

“And I am the shark, is that it? You would prefer to die miserable than experience all that life can give you, just in case you get hurt?”

“You make it sound as if being hurt by a man is a small thing,” she said angrily. “For a woman it is the end of her. Unhappiness, misery, abandonment. I know what ‘love’ does, and I do not want any part of it.” She drew a deep breath. “Now, I will ask you again, what are you doing here, Mr. Thorne?”

He considered her. “I have unfinished business in the village. I need to complete it as soon as possible.”

She was horrified. “You’re planning to go to the village now? You are not fit!”

“I’m fit enough and this cannot wait. I wonder if I might ask you for the loan of one of your horses, Miss Greentree, if I promise to bring it back when I am done?”

She shook her head, her eyes still on his.

“I am determined to go,” he said, quite gently, “and I am arrogant enough to think you cannot stop me.”