Nothing much had the power to entice his senses, but Lady Theodosia Winfern most astonishingly did with little effort on her part. His first sight of her had struck him into stillness.
She was truly ravishing.
The lady was also a rebellious spitfire who had encouraged his sister to be deceptive with her family. And she did not seem afraid of his power but truly possessed the audacity to challenge him. This he had not expected when he arrived on her doorstep, expecting to issue a duel to the bounder who dared to seduce his sister.
What do I know of you?
Though he’d accused her of being callous in charging a fee to her members, Lady Winfern should be a wealthy woman because of her late husband. Though a renowned gambler, the man had not been broke, and Sebastian had had several business dealings with the late Viscount. His widow’s reputation was a bit absurd, for she had married a man thrice her age. It had clearly been for his money and title, and people in thetonfrowned on such obviously vulgar reasons for marrying. Sebastian found their hypocrisy pitiful. Everyone in thetonmarried for power and connections. They were simply cunning and very discreet about it. Love matches were a rare delight that was often met with sly whispers. With her beauty and lack of fortune, the lady had simply been obviously unrefined with her choice, and they’d had a grand time cutting her down for it.
There was a betting book at White’s overflowing with wagers over who would eventually win the lady’s hand. Not for marriage, but to be their mistress. Her experience with the world and the lifestyle she lived was not for his young, willful sister. Especially when it had turned her into a creature who would lie so easily to her family, and one who would treat the young man who loved her with such dismissive contempt.
Upon reaching his carriage, he rattled off instructions to take him to his club. Hauling himself inside, he settled against the squabs, almost annoyed with himself to still have the sensual image of Lady Winfern lingering in his thoughts. Beyond this encounter, the lady had no reason to stay within his thoughts. It was unlikely he would see her again or have reason to converse with her. Sebastian was a man of his words. He would tell no one of her saloon.
The carriage drew to a stop in St. James’s Street, and he alighted and strolled towards White’s. He entered, returning greetings from the gentlemen sitting around smoking and drinking brandy. Sebastian entered the dining room, anticipating the delight to his palette. The chef was truly inspired, rumor saying he had been stolen from the king’s kitchens.
Once seated, a freshly pressed newspaper, a decanter of brandy together with a glass was promptly delivered. A shadow fell over him, and he glanced up to spy Percy Deveraux, Marquess of Wolverton and Sebastian’s closest friend.
“I haven’t seen you here in days,” Percy said, inviting himself to sit. “I thought you busy with estate matters in Sussex.”
Lowering the newspaper, Sebastian replied, “A letter to my steward was the only thing needed. I decided it’s best to remain in town while Perdie is here.”
“Ah, how is the little imp doing?”
“Not so little anymore, but still as willful.”
Percy grunted and tugged at his cravat. “Reminds me of someone who is a thorn in my side,” he said darkly. “Do you know I caught the chitclimbingfrom her bedroom window? Nearly gave me apoplexy.”
The man spoke of a young lady, Miss Frederica Williams, who had become his ward these past two years. The young lady would be about Perdie’s age, and she resented every inch of the restrictions befitting the station Percy had tried to foist on her. His friend seemed increasingly frustrated with Miss Williams, but Sebastian did not think his friend was aware that the more he spoke of the lady, a throb of longing entered his tone. Percy was beginning to see her as a woman, and Seb suspected this young lady was the reason his friend had cut all connection with his mistress several months previous.
“It is as if there is something in the air encouraging the ladies of society to rebellion. Did you know Thomas’s once biddable sister, whom he found a most excellent match, suddenly ordered a new wardrobe, cut her hair, and informed him she will find her own husband? Thomas has no idea what to do with Lady Charity. It must be something in the damn air.”
Or that something is Lady Theodosia Winfern.
“Why has that amused you?” Percy demanded archly, filling his glass with whisky.
“It was but a thought about a lady.”
Percy leered. “Ah, are you procuring a mistress at last? It is about time!”
Sebastian ignored that dig and the punch low in his gut at the thought of having that particular lady in his bed, and his cock buried deep. His carnal imagination told him she would be a most passionate lover, giving and receiving in equal measure. “I am about to select my duchess. The last thing I am thinking about is a mistress or a lover.”
“Bloody hell,” his friend said with a mock shudder. “Never say you are really putting on the old ball and chain.”
Seb grinned. “You’ll marry eventually. It is stupid to dread something natural and inevitable. What you need to do is be smart about it. Make a list of the eligible ladies and select a lady for your wife.”
“That sounds damnable cold-blooded. Selecting a wife on paper.”
“With the number of ladies out in society, do you have another way? I assure you, these ladies and their mothers do the same when considering a husband. They weigh his title, his yearly income, and his connections. A list is formed, and then the hunt starts with whoever is at number one. Never say you were ignorant of such matters,” he said with a mocking lift of his glass.
His friend scowled and adroitly changed the subject. Seb relaxed into his chair, shifting the conversation into politics seamlessly. Surprisingly as they chatted about the bills that had been voted down in the last parliament session, the lush image of Viscountess Winfern lingered in his thoughts as if she had been permanently interred there.
Chapter Five
One week later…
Perdie appeared resplendent in a high-waisted peach gown, a golden sash tied around her waist, silken gloves hugged her slim arms, and her hair had been fashioned in a riot of curls atop her head. She danced the waltz with Lord Owen, and while he smiled at her, wearing his love on his sleeves, her smiles were dimmed.
That affected Sebastian. His sister did not seem happy, and it gutted him something fiercely. This morning when they broke their fast as a family, he tried to get her to open up in a conversation, but she had been very tightlipped. The opposite of her usual garrulous nature. Even his mother was concerned, but Perdie had assured them all it was the excitement and plans for her wedding which made her seem so wan.