ChapterFour
Grayswood Folly
Haslemere, Surrey
Noise emanated from the billiard room, the clacking of balls, the deep rumble of voices, then the raucous laughter of men who had downed too much brandy.
Somers, Lady Brompton’s portly butler, paused outside the room. “My lord, Mr Chadderton expressed a wish for you to join him the moment you arrived. I’m told the men mean to play until the early hours.”
Sebastian glanced at Helen. “After such an arduous journey, I may join him for a drink. Will you accompany me, Nicholas?”
Nicholas clenched his jaw.
He knew exactly what Chadderton wanted. To persuade Sebastian he would make Helen an excellent husband. The prospect of a large dowry was enough to help the fop forget she hid behind the potted ferns in disgrace. And when Sebastian had arrived at Mrs Glover’s farmhouse, after being unable to find Parbrook, he’d secretly confessed the trip to Haslemere was a means for Helen to meet eligible suitors.
“Well, Nicholas?” Sebastian prompted.
Perhaps Helen was right.
He should say no from time to time.
“Not tonight,” he said, much to Sebastian’s surprise. He would rather listen to cats screaming than hear Chadderton’s romantic drivel. And in his current mood, he would likely beat his friend and Helen’s suitor with the heavy end of a cue stick. “You know I would never be seen in company wearing a creased coat.”
Sebastian laughed. “Then join me for a ride in the morning.” He meant they needed to discuss whether Parbrook had hired the mad coachman, for Sebastian knew nothing of Nicholas’ current dilemma. “I shall meet you in the stables at nine.”
Nicholas shook his head. “I’ll meet you at eight.”
Breakfast was to be served at nine, and he would use the event to establish who else wished to claim Helen’s hand in marriage.
Sebastian reluctantly agreed. He bid them good night and left to join the sotted fools who used liquor to mask their failings.
At a snail’s pace, Somers led Helen and Nicholas up the large oak staircase, turning left on the dimly lit landing, past a marble bust of Lady Brompton.
“Did you notice my brother’s mistake when he apologised for putting business before my safety?” she whispered.
Yes, heightened emotions had led to the error.
Having ridden to London to collect his spare carriage and hire men to salvage the wreckage, Sebastian had spent the journey to Haslemere cursing the devil who had sent them sliding down the embankment.
“He mentioned having to submit the ground survey,” Nicholas said.
“Yes, but originally he had to prepare the five-year forecast.”
“What do you want me to say, Miss Langley?”
“I want you to tell me my brother is not drowning in debt. That he is not selling off heirlooms to maintain a facade.” She stopped walking and suddenly gripped his forearm. “Tell me I have no cause for concern despite his blatant lies and peculiar manner.”
He glanced at the ungloved hand resting on his coat sleeve, his heart pounding at her closeness. “You ask me to betray a confidence.”
“I ask that you reassure me, sir.”
Oh, he could comfort her, ease her mind and body. He could make her forget about everything other than the feel of him moving inside her.
“He means to bury the scandal. That is all.”
“By doing what, exactly?”
“You’re an intelligent woman. Isn’t it obvious?”