The Rake Page 21

  “Did I appear to be laboring under any sort of distress?”

  Comprehension dawned. “I’m certain this has nothing to do with your evening, my lord.”

  Relief flickered over Sebastian’s face. “In that case, you may show him in.”

  The butler bowed. “Very good, my lord. Where should I put the--uh--females?”

  Sebastian stared at his butler blankly. “Did you mention females?”

  Meeks cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I may have failed to mention that the solicitor arrived with two females.”

  Sebastian studied the butler uneasily. “This is very bad news, isn’t it Meeks?”

  “As to that, my lord, I couldn’t say. Mr. Winston did mention that his business had to do with a will, my lord.”

  “A will,” Sebastian echoed blankly. “And he brought two females with him? How old?”

  The butler thought it over. “A young lady and a woman I presume to be her companion or governess.”

  Sebastian sighed irritably, but it was obvious the only way to get to the bottom of the mystery was to speak to the solicitor. Finally, he waved the butler off. “You can seat the child and her nanny in the parlor--and have some refreshment brought. And escort Mr. ---uh--whatever the hell his name was in here.”

  The butler bowed again. “I already took the liberty of showing them into the parlor and ordering refreshment. I will fetch Mr. Winston.”

  Mr. Winston, it transpired, was a stout, elderly barrister, and it seemed that it was he who was laboring under some sort of distress. Despite his attempt to behave with all dignity, Sebastian couldn’t help but notice the man was visibly shaken when he entered the study, sweating profusely despite the chill of the season and looked more than a little relieved that Lord Huntington had agreed to see him. He took the hand Sebastian held out in both of his and wrung it for a good few minutes before he seemed to collect himself and released it, looking around for a seat.

  “How may I help you?” Sebastian asked politely once he had seated himself, although the sense of impending disaster that he’d felt from the moment Meeks mentioned the visitor had only grown deeper when the man had appeared.

  Mr. Winston allowed a faint smile. “I’ve come on my client’s behalf, Lord Dermot Marshall.”

  Sebastian’s brows rose. “Dermot? Good, God! He is barely three and thirty, if that much, for he and I were at Cambridge together and I am only a couple of years younger than he. You’re not saying--?”

  Mr. Winston looked suitably solemn for one bearing bad tidings. “Alas, we fear so. As you may or may not have known, Lord Marshall took it into his head to go off adventuring in the wilds of the colonies about eighteen months ago. He has not been in communication with us in almost a year--he was in the uncharted territories when last he sent word to us--and despite every effort, we’ve had no luck in tracking him down.”

  Sebastian rose abruptly and paced to the hearth, fiddling unnecessarily with the fire poker while he collected his thoughts. He hadn’t seen Dermot in nigh two years, but they had been the best of friends since their school days together--or so he had thought. He had certainly not heard that Dermot had taken it in his head to go off to the Americas, though--not that he could recall. “And you fear foul play?” he asked slowly.

  “The possibility exists, but from what he wrote, the territories are fairly wild--anything, or even nothing, may have happened. All that I can say for certain is that sufficient time has passed with no word that I felt that I must implement his wishes.”

  Sebastian turned to look at the man in surprise. “His last will and testament? Surely you are being precipitate in executing his will when you’ve no solid evidence that he is--that anything has happened?”

  Mr. Winston looked uncomfortable. “It’s not--precisely his will--but his affairs must be put in order. I feel confident that I, and my partners, can continue to handle his financial affairs and his estate. It is his orphaned child who requires--uh--parental care.”

  Sebastian felt his jaw sag in stunned disbelief. “His child? I didn’t even know he had wed!”

  Mr. Winston reddened. “Well, my lord, as to that, he didn’t. The girl is a--uh--legacy of a youthful indiscretion. But when the girl’s mother died some years ago, he took her in to rear her himself and had the paperwork done up so that if he did not wed and produce an heir, she would inherit. The thing is,” he added quickly, “he held you in the highest regard. And he has requested that guardianship of his daughter pass to you in the event that he is not here to fulfill his parental obligations and see her suitably settled.”

  “I see,” Sebastian said tightly, setting the poker down and moving back to his seat behind his desk. “If that isn’t just like Der,” he muttered. “Running off and leaving someone else to deal with his mess!”

  Mr. Winston blinked, paling noticeably. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but Miss Kathryn is a lovely young lady….”

  Sebastian cut the barrister off with a sharp motion of his hand. “She may well be, Mr. Winston, but as it happens, I am not wed--I’ve no desire to do so simply to provide the chit with a home and, I don’t mind telling you my reputation isn’t the best. I’m not only ill suited for the role of guardian, I am not prepared … Even if I wished to be, which I don’t mind telling you, I don’t.”

  The solicitor’s shoulders slumped. He shook his head sadly. “I feared as much. Poor child.”

  Sebastian stared at the man uncomfortably. “She has other relatives…?”

  Mr. Winston shook his head sadly. “Nay. Not a one. A few distant cousins on her father’s side, but ….” He shrugged. “They were not best pleased that he took the girl in and made her his heir. I hated to turn her over to them ….”

  Sebastian frowned. “Where has she been staying all this time?”

  “At Lord Marshall’s country estate, but you must see as well as I do that that simply will not do at all--to leave her there with no one but Miss Shirley and a gaggle of servants? I would take her in myself, but my wife and I are very old to be trotting after a young girl.”

  Sebastian sighed irritably, but he realized he was lost. He would have to do something for Dermot’s child. He couldn’t simply turn his back on her.

  Perhaps, he thought a little hopefully, he could convince one of his sisters to take her in? Fanny was good hearted, and a very motherly sort.

  She had a half dozen girls of her own, though, and the eldest just out this year. She would not be thrilled to take another under her wing when she already had her hands full.

  Amelia he dismissed. He wouldn’t wish her on his worst enemy. He couldn’t in good conscience push the child off with a cold fish like that.

  He shook the thoughts off. He was certain something would come to him. Sighing, he stood. “Dermot was a dear friend. I will do what I can for his child.”

  Mr. Winston beamed at him, sitting forward in his chair. “You will? Oh! That would be splendid! Splendid! I have the paperwork right here if I could just take a few more moments of your time to go over it?”

  Sebastian frowned, feeling a faint uneasiness that the man had brought the papers with him when he had seemed to expect a rejection of the plan. If he had, then the only explanation for bringing the papers that presented itself to Sebastian was desperation, which was almost a more unnerving thought than the suspicion that he had been manipulated into taking the girl.

  He glanced over the papers, casting his mind back to his visits to Dermot’s estate. Vaguely, he recalled a few glimpses of a fair haired child with huge blue eyes, usually peering in through some doorway and taking flight if anyone glanced her way. If he’d given it a thought at all, he supposed he’d assumed the child belonged to one of Dermot’s servants--for that matter the child he’d glimpsed might have, but if it had been Dermot’s girl then she was very quiet and shy, which he found a considerable relief.

  He hadn’t thought to ask the solicitor how old the child was, but Dermot was only a few years older than he was. It seemed
unlikely she could be more than eight or possibly ten, even considering the comment about the youthful indiscretion.

  That would put her around the age of Fanny’s middle girl--not that he’d spent a great deal of time around his nieces, but he felt a little relieved nevertheless. He could cart her off to a boarding school--and then a finishing school. By the time she emerged, he would have nothing to do but arrange a marriage for her and everything would be neatly taken care of--assuming Dermot didn’t return in the meanwhile--which he might.

  Assuring himself the papers were in order, he signed them, waved them around until the ink dried while the solicitor made an abortive attempt to snatch them from his hand and finally handed them over.

  Mr. Winston breathed a sigh of relief, shoved the papers into his satchel and leapt to his feet. “Well, my lord, I won’t take up any more of your time. I’m sure the girl will be quite well taken care of. Good day!”

  Frowning, Sebastian studied the solicitor’s hasty retreat to the door of the study. “Perhaps you should introduce me to the child before you go? She does not know me, after all. This must all be –unnerving for a youngster.”

  Mr. Winston either did not hear, or pretended he didn’t. Snatching the door open, he charged down the hallway and out the front door without a backward glance.

  Sebastian stared at the vibrating door with a nearly overwhelming sense of uneasiness and finally strode down the hall to the front parlor. As he opened the door, an attractive woman who appeared to be in her mid to late thirties, glanced up from a book she had been reading. “You must be Lord Huntington?”

  The child was seated in a chair with her back to the door. His first inkling that he might have miscalculated her age was when she stood up. She was not tall, but too tall, he felt certain for a child of eight or ten. Twelve, he hazarded?

  She turned around.

  A shock wave seemed to roll over him, completely stunning him. The first thing that captured his gaze was the bountiful breasts that seemed in imminent danger of spilling from her décolleté. It was not only the first thing that caught his gaze, it was the only thing that snagged his gaze for many moments--He wasn’t certain how many, but he was finally brought to realize that a pregnant silence had fallen over the room.

  With an effort, he dragged his gaze from the most beautiful and impressive pair of breasts he’d seen in many years--possibly ever--and met the nymph’s limpid blue gaze.

  She was blushing, which tinted her flawless, alabaster skin a lovely shade of peaches and cream. Her eyes, huge and brilliantly blue, and surrounded by thick sooty lashes, fluttered. Disconcertingly, his putter, too stunned to react before, responded with delighted interest.

  Clearing his throat, he shoved his hands into his breeches pockets and moved to the hearth, putting his back to the room while he gritted his teeth and willed his response away. Deciding he had himself under control after a few moments, he turned at last.

  She looked like an angel. He simply couldn’t get around the fact that she was shaped like a temptress and looked like an angel.

  And she was not--definitely not--a child.

  He nodded, clearing his throat again. “You must be … uh ….” He frowned. Had the damned man told him the girl’s--young woman’s--name? Or had his wits totally deserted him?

  She smiled and his heart seemed to stop in his chest. “I’m Kathryn--Kathryn Marshall, my lord. And this is my companion, Miss Lynnette Shirley.”

  Chapter Two

  Kathryn felt faint. It had taken all she could do even to pretend to be casual and pleasant.

  Sebastian looked exactly the way she remembered--tall, heartstoppingly handsome, dashing. She’d more than half feared her girlish fantasies about Lord Huntington had been enhanced by her daydreaming--and night dreaming if it came to that, for she had been wildly in love with him since she was barely fourteen and he had come for a visit to Elk Park, her father’s country estate.

  And when she had finally nerved herself to take a peek at him, he had been looking at her just the way she’d always pictured he would look at her one day, as if he thought she was the most beautiful and desirable woman he’d ever seen.

  It had taken a good deal of prodding to convince Mr. Winston to bring her to Lord Huntington in London, but it had been well worth the months of determined prodding.

  She could hardly believe that after all these years, her plan was coming together.

  It was such a pity Dermot would not be here to see her when she had her come out and then caught the most eligible bachelor in England--She knew Sebastian had to be, for he was by far the most handsome man she knew besides being a lord and very well set up.

  Of course, he was considered to be a bit of a rake, and she supposed some might object to that, but she found that dangerous air he had about him quite exciting. In any case, Dermot had been a rake and she couldn’t see the harm in it, when all was said and done. That was certain to change once he fell madly in love with her.

  Almost in a dream like state, she held out her hand. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking me in like this, my lord. It is so dreadful about poor Dermot!”

  Sebastian blinked several times as that comment sank in. Slowly, he felt his color heighten. He cleared his throat, stared at her extended hand for several moments and kept his own hands firmly in his pockets.

  “Dermot?” he finally managed.

  She looked conscience stricken. “I shouldn’t call him that? He didn’t want me to call him papa, you must know. He said it made him feel quite old, and he still preferred to think of himself as a randy young buck.”

  That artless comment caused Sebastian the second wave of shock in less than five minutes. He looked her up and down, which was a mistake, he realized belatedly, because he hadn’t imagined that she was built like a goddess and the dress she was wearing firmly attested to that fact.

  It was the height of fashion--which was to say virtually transparent. It was as well for him that she hadn’t discovered--yet--that the more daring young women often dampened their underskirts so that the gowns clung to their figure. He wasn’t certain his heart could take any more. “Exactly how old are you?” he asked a little hoarsely.

  She beamed at him. “Eighteen. I should have had my coming out last year, but Dermot--I mean Papa was in the Americas ….”

  Sebastian frowned, trying to do the math, but discovered that was beyond him at the moment. “Eighteen!” he echoed, aghast. “Eighteen?”

  She chuckled. Like the rest of her, the chuckle was far more pleasing to his senses that it should have been. “Dermot was fifteen. He has always been very pleased with himself over it--forever bragging to any who would listen. My mother was his youngest sister’s governess, poor little thing. She died, you know, when she was just a little thing--his younger sister, I mean--but I think the family had already sent my mother away before that,” she said frankly.

  Sebastian glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was scarcely noon, but he decided the hell with it. He needed a drink--badly.

  He looked around a little vaguely, but his butler did not magically appear. Striding to the bell pull, he reached for it and then dismissed it, snatching the door open and bellowing down the hall for Meeks. Since Meeks was directly outside the door--either listening or on the point of entering, his ordinarily small eyes widened considerably. “You called, my lord?” he asked with unruffled dignity.

  “There you are! You must send someone to ready rooms for my--uh--ward and Miss--uh….”

  “Shirley.”

  Sebastian glanced toward the woman who’d spoken, but her expression was still very agreeable. “Miss Shirley.”

  “I took the liberty of doing so already, my lord.”

  Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as they settled on the butler once more.

  “I’m sure the ladies are quite worn out from traveling and would like to go up to their rooms and freshen up, and perhaps rest a bit before luncheon. Cook relays her apologies. Luncheon will
be delayed.”

  “Thank you, Meeks. I assume you’ve already seen to moving their luggage in, as well?” he asked, his voice somewhat brittle.

  Meeks nodded. “Certainly, my lord. I have put Miss Marshall in the blue room,” he added significantly.

  Sebastian stared at the butler suspiciously for several moments, but finally decided the comment wasn’t a direct insult to his integrity. It was a relief, actually, to know Meeks had had the foresight to put her at the opposite end of the house from him.

  Not that that was really necessary.

  He couldn’t stay here--not in the same house.

  No one who was not blind, deaf, and dumb would believe for one moment that he, who was not quite a notorious rake but didn’t miss it by far, would be able to keep his hands to himself with a chit like that right under him.

  He wished he hadn’t thought of it quite that way, because thinking of her under him was precisely the reason he was so rattled.

  Moreover, he didn’t believe it, which was exactly why he wouldn’t be staying.

  He glanced at the goddess Aphrodite. “I hope you will excuse me. I have--urgent business which I must attend to.”

  Disappointment filled Kathryn as she watched Lord Sebastian stride from the room and disappear. The front door had already closed behind him when she brought her attention back to the butler. After casting an uncertain glance at Lynnette, she followed the man upstairs.

  Lynnette, trailing them, observed as they made their way through the rambling manse. “A very grand stair, Mr. Meeks--and such marvelous workmanship. Do look at the birds and flowers carved into the spindles, my dear. Aren’t they lovely? And so detailed! I couldn’t help but notice that all of the doors, and of course the stairs, are quite wide. This mansion must date back to the days of panniers?”

  Mr. Meeks threw a glance at her as he reached the upper landing. “I couldn’t say, Miss. Quite possibly you are right. The house was built by the old Viscount--Lord Sebastian’s grandfather. Part of it burned at one point--one of the London fires--but it was restored.”