Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

“You’re only glad I’m back because you want to join the army,” Sebastian said, later, when he had eaten and drunk a bottle of wine, and was ensconced in his favorite chair. The summer evening was warm, too warm for a fire, and they had opened the long windows to let in the scents of the garden.

“You know me too well,” Marcus admitted, sighing.

“I thought you might have grown to like being squire of Worthorne. I don’t want to take your place if you are content to keep it.”

Marcus chuckled. “No, brother, it doesn’t suit me at all. I will relish the freedom of the army. You know I’ve always wanted to travel. You can stay here at Worthorne and raise your heirs, and I’ll go off and have all the fun.”

Sebastian smiled at his naïveté.

“You’ve changed,” his brother said abruptly. “You’ve grown gloomy.”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“A woman, do you mean?”

Sebastian tried to frown, but wasn’t very successful.

“What is she like? Come on, brother, tell me. You can’t imagine how damned boring it’s been here for the last eight years.”

Sebastian tried to imagine Francesca’s face and form, and found it all too easy. “Dark hair, curling and thick, the sort of hair you can take in your hands and drown in. A pretty face. Very pretty. A tip-tilted nose. Brown eyes with long lashes, with a gleam in them, when she’s not pretending she’s Miss Proper. Lips that were just made for kissing. The top of her head comes to my chin, and she feels lovely and soft in my arms.”

“And character, brother? Or is that less important than her kissable lips?”

“She says what she thinks, and she argues with me, and she’s not at all intimidated when I swear. She makes me laugh, too. She makes me happy. In fact, she’s a woman to spend a lifetime with. If she’ll have me.”

Marcus laughed, thinking he was joking. “Why wouldn’t she have you!”

“Because she doesn’t trust me not to hurt her, and who can blame her for that?”

Quietly Marcus got up and opened another bottle of the excellent wine. He poured his brother a glass and handed it to him. “Drown your sorrows,” he suggested.

Sebastian stared at him in mock disbelief. “Is that the best you can do, brother? Is that your considered advice? Drown your sorrows?”

Marcus shrugged. “I never was one for affairs of the heart, Seb. After Barbara…I don’t give advice.”

Sebastian sighed. “No,” he agreed, “it’s difficult to recover from something like that. I didn’t think I would, but somehow…Francesca has healed me, or rather she’s made me want to heal myself. I want to be the sort of man she can love.”

“Grand sentiments, brother,” Marcus replied, raising his glass. “Here’s to new beginnings!”

Somberly Sebastian raised his own glass. “To new beginnings.”

Three days later, Sebastian stood in a drawing room in Belgravia, feeling as if he were treading on eggshells. He was dressed in the clothes his brother had lent him, but although they fit well and were fashionable, he didn’t feel comfortable. It would take a while, he supposed, to throw off Mr. Thorne.

The door opened and an attractive, elderly woman entered. She met his eyes, and he saw her own widen. “Sebastian?” she gasped. “It can’t be!”

“Yes, it is Sebastian,” he said, and grinned.

“But where have you been?”

“I’ve been away, Ma’am, but I’m back now. I want to ask a favor of you.”

“Oh do you now? Well, it depends what the favor is.”

“My brother tells me you’re having a ball here in a week’s time. I want you to send out some more invitations.”

Lady Annear’s elegant eyebrows lifted. “I may be your godmother, but that doesn’t mean I have to do as you tell me.” She paused. “I will send your invitations out if you promise to dance with my granddaughters. All seven of ’em!”

“Very well. I promise.”