Page 56 of Marriage Most Scandalous
But before he left them to go at each other’s throats again verbally, he warned, “My father has had one too many accidents. If he has another, I’ll be back, and one of you will pay for it.”
“Seb—” Denton began to refute what had just been implied, but Sebastian closed the door.
If he heard another excuse or lie he’d probably go through the roof. Frustration he didn’t deal with well. Actually, now might be a good time to visit that French groom in the stables. That ought to be a brutal enough encounter to relieve some of his frustration.
Chapter 32
MARGARET NOTICEDSEBASTIANin the parlor when she and Abigail returned from Edgeford. Abigail didn’t catch sight of him and went straight upstairs, but Margaret joined Sebastian. She wasn’t sure if he’d spoken to Dr. Culden earlier or knew yet that his father’s condition had improved.
But he seemed to have been waiting for her and said, “Ah, there you are, Maggie.”
He started to approach her. She positioned herself so that a table stood between them, but that didn’t work. Sebastian walked around it. So she quickly related her news to get his mind off pursuing her.
“Douglas’s fever broke last night,” she told him. “The maid had to wake some of the footmen to help her change his bedding. He’s been awake numerous times today, though he’s still quite weak. Will you wait a day or so before talking with him? Should I let him know you’re here? I’ve avoided him myself. I think he suspects, or remembers, seeing you in the hall, and he’s going to ask me pointedly—”
He kissed her to silence. It worked very well, stirring quite potent memories of the night before.
“You chatter too much,” he said as if providing an excuse for kissing her. “Tell him whatever you like, if you can be sure it won’t hinder his recovery.”
Margaret drew herself up stiffly and said, “Don’t do that again, please.”
“What?”
“The kissing,” she whispered primly.
He sighed. “Back to square one, are we?”
“It’s a matter of prudence. I’m going to have a difficult time explaining a divorce, or getting married, for that matter, if I have a child who people believe can claim the title which, due to our lies, would not legally be his.”
Deep down, she was actually hoping Sebastian had an answer for that, that he’d marry her for real if it came to that. He didn’t.
He nodded, though he did say, “One could wish you weren’t quite so astute, Maggie. One could even wish you didn’t think so bloody much. Very well, I’ll keep my hands off of you. And I’ll speak to my father now.”
She wasn’t expecting that or for him to leave the room immediately to go upstairs. She followed him slowly, worried that it was still too soon for a confrontation between him and his father, but was hesitant to stop him, when for all she knew Douglas might be delighted by his return.
She drew up short in the corridor, when she saw Sebastian standing outside his father’s door. He glanced at her but said nothing. There was an odd look in his eyes that she didn’t recognize. Was he worried? Anxious? Both emotions seemed beneath him. He was a bulwark. He was The Raven. And he entered the room abruptly now and closed the door behind him.
Margaret bit her lip. She ought to join him. Her presence might make a difference. But she didn’t think Sebastian would want her support right now. He might be willing to reveal emotions that he wouldn’t reveal if she were present. Besides, he would have been the first to suggest it if he thought she could help. She went back downstairs, fervently wishing him luck.
Douglas was sleeping. Sebastian was almost relieved, a reprieve, as it were. Except he wasn’t going to leave. He didn’t think his wait would be long. Douglas was propped up in his bed. He’d been awake and reading, the book laying on his thigh, his hand still on it.
The maid who was sitting across the room said nothing when he entered and left quickly at his nod toward the door. Sebastian took the chair by the bed, but he didn’t stay in it long. He paced some. He was more nervous than he’d expected. No other man alive could inspire that emotion in him. But his father could.
The fight he’d had with Anton in the stable earlier had turned out to be quite satisfying, despite the fact that the man seemed vaguely familiar to him and he couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t get any answers from the chap about the accidents. Very loyal to Juliette, he was. And he’d put up a good defense. The stocky Frenchman had held his own nicely, giving Sebastian a splendid workout.
Thinking of that relaxed Sebastian a little, allowing him to put his defenses in place, one by one. When he was finally ready, he turned back toward the bed, intending to wake Douglas, only to find his father’s eyes on him. For how long? Douglas should have spoken, asked what he was doing there, anything. That he’d said nothing indicated he had no intention of talking to Sebastian at all. The gravestone...
“I’m not dead,” Sebastian almost snarled. “I’m not a dream, either. Nor am I here by choice. So don’t worry, I’ll leave just as soon as I can assure Maggie that you aren’t going to exit your room, trip over a cord, and fall down the bloody stairs.”
“What the devil are you talking about?”
“Well, that’s something,” Sebastian said dryly. “At least you talk to ghosts.”
“Sebastian.”
The warning note worked very well, harked back to his youth. It was all Douglas had ever needed to do with his sons, simply say their names in that particular tone, and they felt reprimanded enough to end any argument or excuses they had lined up.
“Beg pardon,” Sebastian said. “I’ll make an effort to stick to the facts, one of which is, Margaret’s trip to Europe wasn’t to tour and shop as she let on. It was expressly to find me and convince me to come here.”
