Page 58 of Marriage Most Scandalous
“Other than the obvious reasons why Juliette would want to be part of this family, wealth, title, et cetera, can you think of anything else, anything a’tall, that would make her want to stay here, when she apparently doesn’t like England?”
Douglas frowned. “What are you implying?”
“Perhaps a grudge against the Townshends?”
“You mean of the vengeful sort?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Douglas replied. “I’d never heard of her before—”
Sebastian cut him off abruptly. “We can get through this in a civilized manner as long as you don’t bring up that part of our history. Now it occurs to me that I never heard her family name. Have you?”
“Yes, but it was unfamiliar. Poussin, I believe it was, or something like that. I only heard it once.”
Sebastian had met a lot of people in France, but no one by that name. On the other hand, if Juliette’s motive was revenge, it was doubtful she would have given her real family name to any of them.
It occurred to him to ask, “Have you ever been to France? Perhaps you could have met her family, offended or harmed them in some way without realizing it?”
“You are gadding up the wrong tree. I know it’s considered a rounding off of the education, as it were, but I never took the tour. I was too interested in getting a commitment from your mother at the time to want to be out of the country. And I married her with unseemly haste.”
Sebastian had never heard that before. Ordinarily he wouldn’t pry, but this trip to Edgewood would very likely be the last time he ever saw his father. “Why?” he asked baldly.
Douglas shrugged. “Had to. And no, not for the first reason that might come to mind. She was the prime catch of the season, and I fell in love with her the same day I clapped eyes on her. But her being the prime catch, there were also more’n a half dozen other young bucks trying to win her hand. It was a bloody nerve-racking time, waiting for her to decide who the lucky chap would be.”
Sebastian smiled. Like Denton, he’d put his mother on a pedestal; she’d died when they were so young. They had their memories of her. She was the angel, the Madonna, all that was good and gracious. It was rather a surprise to learn she’d been a typical female of her day, wanting to squeeze out every bit of enjoyment from being so popular. It made her seem more real to him—and made him miss her all the more. And he guessed he had his answer now to why his father had never remarried. The look that had come over him when he mentioned his wife said it all. He still loved her, too much to consider letting another woman take her place.
“I’ll let you rest for now,” Sebastian said. “Don’t want to tire you out while you’re still recovering. I’ll return later to finish discussing your accidents.”
“I told you—”
“And I didn’t buy it,” Sebastian cut in, to his father’s chagrin. “So give some thought to the truth when we meet again.”
He crossed to the door. He expected a few more rebuttals before he reached it, but Douglas remained silent, which was odd. Or perhaps their conversation had exhausted him more than he let on.
Sebastian opened the door and said without turning back, “Thank you for revealing what you did about my mother. I wasn’t expecting that—all things considered.”
Chapter 33
ABIGAIL METTIMOTHY THAT AFTERNOONfor the first time, and not surprisingly, since the boy had such a quirky sense of humor, the old girl took to him as if he were a member of the family. “We’ll keep him,” she told Margaret in a decisive manner.
Margaret didn’t have the heart to tell her she couldn’t just keep him. But Timothy, that cheeky scamp, thought it was hilarious, and he was pleased to keep Abigail company, entertaining her with tales of France. She had a feeling he’d never experienced a grandmother before.
Margaret didn’t stay long to listen to them. She was too anxious to be good company herself, was a bundle of nerves, actually, waiting to hear what had transpired in Douglas’s room. To that end, she lingered at the top of the stairs, arranging and rearranging the vase of flowers on the table nearby. She didn’t want to miss Sebastian when he left his father.
He abruptly came out of the room. The menacing expression on his face, one The Raven often sported, gave her no clue. He’d been in there an awfully long time, but that might not indicate anything significant. For all she knew, Douglas could have been sleeping most of that time...
As soon as he spotted her, he walked over to her and said, “Let’s go for a ride,” then grasped her hand and started down the stairs, pulling her along with him.
“Let’s not,” she said to his back, wanting an immediate answer to the question that had her on tenterhooks.
He didn’t take the hint and merely said, “Our horses need the exercise, whether we do or not,” and continued to drag her out of the house.
She gave up at that point and just tried to keep up with him, since he wasn’t letting go of her hand. Dragging her across the lawn wasn’t very civilized, but come to think of it, no one could accuse Sebastian of being civilized, so it was pointless to mention it.
In the stable the grooms all quickly made themselves scarce, something Sebastian was undoubtedly used to, since he began saddling his horse without calling for assistance. One groom did show up, however, and almost belligerently asked Margaret if she needed anything. The Frenchman. His accent was so slight she might not have noticed it if she hadn’t recently been in France. But before she could answer, she got a better look at him in the dim light and gasped.
“Goodness. You look like you fell asleep in one of the stalls and woke up with the horse standing on you,” she said with some natural concern. His face was severely swollen and bruised.
