‘Then I shall go to Brighton, or Leamington Spa, or Bath. I don’t care where I go, and it’s none of your business.’
‘Why do so, when you can stay here?’ Sebastian dug his hands deep into the pockets of his riding breeches. ‘Tell me honestly, Caro, was it that night which caused the rift between you and Rider?’
That night. She had grown up in more ways than one that night. ‘That night was two years ago, Sebastian,’ she said coldly. ‘What came between myself and my husband was entirely my own fault. If you are offering me sanctuary to assuage your conscience, let me tell you there is no need.’
‘I’m offering you sanctuary because you need it! Why must you be so pig-headed!’
‘I am not being pig-headed, I am being considerate,’ Caro snapped, roused by his anger. ‘Very well it would look, for the Marquis of Ardhallow to give house to a fallen woman whose own family are his neighbours. I can see the chimney pots of Killellan Manor from this window, for goodness’ sake. The county would be in an uproar.’
To her surprise, he grinned. ‘You know my reputation. One more fallen woman is neither here nor there.’
She smiled reluctantly, trying not to remember how that upside-down smile of his had always heated her. ‘I could not even consider it. Papa would be mortified.’
‘Isn’t that all the more reason for you to stay? He has treated you appallingly, I can’t believe you’re going to lie down and take it.’
She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again, much struck by this.
‘You don’t owe him anything, Caro,’ Sebastian urged, as if he could read her thoughts. Which he used to do, remarkably well.
‘Papa told me I had fallen as low as it was possible to fall,’ she said bitterly.
‘Then show him that he’s wrong.’
She was absurdly tempted, but still she shook her head. ‘It is very kind of you, but...’
‘Kind! I am never kind,’ Sebastian broke in harshly. ‘I thought you knew me better.’
She looked at him wonderingly, playing for time as she tried to make sense of his motives. Though they had known each other for more than ten years, the time they had spent together had been fleeting. Though they had shared the most intimate of experiences, that night if nothing else should have proven to her that she had been wholly mistaken in him. ‘I barely know you, Sebastian, any more than you know me. We may as well be strangers.’
He looked hurt, but covered it quickly. ‘Not complete strangers. We are two renegades in the wilderness with nothing to lose, we have that much in common.’
‘I am not—you know, I think you may be right. I have lived my entire life bending to other people’s will, perhaps now it’s time to live my own life. Whatever that may be.’
‘Then you’ll stay?’
Her smile faded. ‘Why, Sebastian? Truthfully?’
‘Truthfully?’ He stared out of the window. ‘I don’t know. I swore I’d have nothing to do with you again, but when I saw you at St John Marne’s—no, don’t bridle, you were pathetic then, but you are not pitiful. I suppose, despite all, I don’t think you deserve the bad press you have received...’
‘And that feeling resonates with you?’
She knew she should not have said it, that it was deliberately provocative, but he had always had that effect on her, and to her surprise he smiled ruefully. ‘Perhaps.’
It was this rare admission that decided her. ‘Then if you mean it, I will stay. For a little while. Until I have recovered my strength and am in a better position to decide what to do.’
‘Good.’ Sebastian nodded. ‘I—good.’
The bedchamber door closed softly behind him. What on earth had she done? Caro looked out the window at the rooftop of her family home, and discovered that her strongest emotion was relief. A lifetime’s obedience to the call of duty had backfired spectacularly. She was done with it! The shock of coming so close to death made her realise how much she valued her life. Whatever she would become now, it would be of her own making.
London, Spring 1824
The room in which the séance was to be held was dimly lit. Sebastian’s knowledge of séances and mediums was confined to one slim volume. Communication with the Other Side it had been titled, written by Baron Lyttleton. He had come across it in the vast library of Crag Hall on his latest—brief as ever—visit. The tome described the author’s conversations with the departed. Arrant nonsense, Sebastian had thought derisively. He had not changed his view.
Kitty, however, seemed genuinely to believe in the whole charade. His current mistress had, to his astonishment, become sobbingly sentimental upon the subject of her dead mother from whom she had parted on poor terms when she had first embarked upon her fledgling career as a courtesan. Kitty had resorted to tears in her efforts to persuade Sebastian to escort her here tonight. ‘If I could just talk to Mama once, Seb, I know I could explain, make her proud of me,’ she had said.
The fact that she was naked at the time save for her trademark diamond collar, having just performed expert, if somewhat clinical fellatio upon him, made Sebastian somewhat sceptical of the point Kitty was making. He had gritted his teeth at her use of the diminutive of his name, something he had always loathed, but there was little merit in constantly correcting her. He was already bored with Kitty, and under no illusion about her feelings for him either. His rakehell reputation made him a desirable catch for her, but there were so many other fish swimming in her pond that it was only a matter of time before her avarice overcame her promise of exclusivity, and exclusivity was one of the very few principles to which Sebastian held true.
He had already purchased the diamond bracelet which would be her farewell gift after tonight’s entertainment. Though he had no doubt it would prove to be a clever hoax, the séance had at least the merit of being a novel experience. God knows, after more than four years in the ton, there were few enough of those left to him.
They were a strange collection, the other guests in the room, some surprisingly well-heeled. He recognised at least two grand-dames, bedecked in black silk and lace, who turned quickly away from him, though whether it was because they were ashamed to be caught dabbling in the black arts, or ashamed to be seen in the company of the notorious Earl of Mosteyn, Sebastian could not say. More likely the latter, though.
‘Do stop staring, Seb, it is not at all the thing.’ Kitty, resplendent in red silk, her justly famous bosom demurely covered by a spangled scarf, tugged reprovingly at his arm. ‘And take that cynical look off your face. These people are seeking solace from their loved ones, just as I am. Do not mock them, or me, for that matter.’
Sebastian eyed his about-to-be-ex-mistress with some surprise. ‘You really do believe in this balderdash, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do. And so too do the rest of the audience, so you will please me this one last time, and refrain from disrupting the proceedings.’ Kitty adjusted her bracelet over her evening glove, then drew him a very candid look. ‘Oh yes, I know your mind better than you think. I am perfectly well aware that you are about to give me my congé, so I will accept your promise to behave as the gentleman you were raised to be in lieu of any more prosaic payment.’
‘Alas, I had already purchased diamonds for you. But if you are sure...’
‘Then of course, it would be very rude of me to decline them,’ Kitty said with one of her sweetest smiles.
‘You may have my promise and the jewellery both,’ Sebastian said, making the smallest of bows, ‘and please accept my compliments too. Our time together has been most pleasurable.’
‘Naturally it has. My reputation is not undeserved.’ Once more Kitty adjusted her bracelet,