Duke of Honor, page 15
Quickly, he hurried back to the house and entered the library. He had the room to himself—and the numerous decanters of spirits grouped together on a table. Sebastian never drank to excess. He wasn’t a man who particularly cared for the taste of alcohol and only drank it upon occasion. He knew, though, that it could dull his pain. Make him forget. If only for a little while.
Locating a bottle of brandy, he poured the amber liquid into a snifter. Not a quarter or half. All the way to the brim. Taking the glass and the bottle, he retreated to the nearby settee and proceeded to get thoroughly soused. Sebastian drank several glasses in quick succession before giving up the snifter and swigging straight from the bottle. He moved from the brandy to a smooth, smoky whiskey. The two tastes clashed in his mouth until he drank enough of the whiskey not to notice—or care.
He thought drinking would cause him to forget Hadley’s face. Her curvaceous body. Instead, though everything about him swam, her visage remained clear. He grew hot and stood to remove his coat and then waistcoat, stumbling and hitting the ground as it came off. The room swayed perilously and he thought it safer to remain on the carpeted floor, leaning his back against the settee. He found it hard to breathe and clawed at the perfectly knotted cravat Bardham had tied, finally dragging it from his throat.
Reaching up, he stretched his arm as far as he could and slapped at another bottle. It fell from where it stood and hit the thick carpet without breaking. He opened it and drank some more, growing more morose with each sip. Still hot, he wondered if drinking too much might cause a fever. He tore at his cuffs and somehow managed to roll the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows.
And still all he could think of was Hadley.
He picked up the bottle again and drained it, tossing it aside. His head ached. Dizziness consumed him. He thought he might be sick. Sebastian slumped and then felt the carpet against his cheek. If only he could sleep. Escape.
Closing his eyes, darkness rushed up to meet him.
*
Hadley was aware when Sebastian left the room. She had seen him enter the salon with the other gentlemen because she had been keeping an eye out for him. Her body was attuned to his presence and she could tell when he was nearby without ever seeing him. At least, it had been that way for the past several days. Days in which they had never spoken to one another. Days in which she longed to comfort him.
She didn’t believe he had shared what was wrong with him with any of his friends though he had spent a majority of his time with them. She could only hope that, sooner or later, he would feel the need to talk. To unburden himself from whatever he carried deep inside him. Hadley wanted him to tell his friends what troubled him. If he did, it might be the first step to recovering and returning to the man he once was.
The only good thing was that Sebastian hadn’t interacted much with any of the other ladies present. She had feared he would leave their encounter and deliberately betroth himself to another woman to keep Hadley from pestering him. Fortunately, he hadn’t. It didn’t mean that one day in the future—near or far—that he wouldn’t seek a bride. She fully expected him to because he had pointed out to her that he did need an heir. It wouldn’t be fair, though, to wed another when he still suffered so much. She might not be the woman for him but she wanted him to be happy, along with whomever he chose as his bride.
After singing, she joined one of the baccarat tables and had a run of luck. The game was new to her. The old duke had taught her chess and backgammon and they had spent many evenings engaged in play. She had been introduced to both baccarat and bridge at the house party and preferred bridge because it reminded her more of chess with its plotting and strategies. It was a challenging game and she knew it would take several years for her to master it.
The clock chimed nine and people began saying their goodnights. Country hours were different from those in London, or so she had been told. Since she had spent her entire life in the country, it didn’t bother her to retire so early but she knew everyone else present had, except for Phoebe and Andrew, come from the London Season and were having to adjust to different hours.
She walked upstairs with Elizabeth, whom she had gotten to know better over the past few days. Hadley had noticed Lord Hayward eyeing Elizabeth and wouldn’t be surprised if the two might rendezvous once the house settled down for the night.
“I was telling Lady Callamina about Tom Jones,” Elizabeth said. “That girl needs to have her eyes opened some. Her parents are much too protective of her.”
“Who is Mr. Jones?” she asked. “He’s not a guest here or I would recall meeting him.”
Elizabeth laughed. “It’s not a he. It’s a book. A bit naughty, I might add.”
“And you recommended it to Lady Callamina? I would think that would be more to Lady Veronica’s taste. What is it about?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her, especially thinking of the naughty things Sebastian had done to her in the stables.
“Tom is a bastard orphan whose nasty uncle sends him away to London. It’s full of adventure. Duels. Imprisonment. Love affairs. I found it quite funny and very entertaining.”
Hadley said, “I have only read a few novels. Perhaps I will try this one.”
“There is a copy in the library downstairs,” Elizabeth confided, leaning closer. “Hidden behind a longwinded treatise by Warren on the second bookcase, the third shelf. I put it there myself, knowing no one would find it because no one will ever read such a dry bit of politics.”
“I will look for it tomorrow.”
“Feel free to take it with you. I will reclaim it the next time I see you.”
They reached her bedchamber and Elizabeth told her goodnight. Hadley entered and allowed Millie to disrobe her and prepare her for bed.
“Be sure you return this dress to the Duchess of Windham.”
She had borrowed another of Phoebe’s gowns and had asked for the name of her modiste because she liked the design so much. Once she arrived in London, Hadley would seek out the woman, using Phoebe’s name as a reference since the dressmaker rarely took on new clients.
“Yes, my lady. Will there be anything else?”
“No. I will see you tomorrow morning, Millie. Thank you.”
Restlessness filled her. She didn’t seem a bit sleepy. She thought about going downstairs to retrieve Tom Jones and read a chapter or two but didn’t want to ring for her maid and don her gown again to do so. Instead, she climbed into bed, where she tossed and turned for a good hour. Deciding the house had quietened down by now and she had little chance of running into anyone, Hadley rose and shrugged into her dressing gown, belting it and taking a candle to light her way downstairs.
The corridor was silent as she moved along it. She wondered if she passed Sebastian’s room and if he slept. She pinched herself. This had to stop. Sebastian was a beautiful dream which she had longed for, one that would never become a reality. Thankfully, she had the memory of his kisses to treasure.
She descended the stairs, the thick carpet absorbing any sound she made. She arrived at the library and opened the door. One light still burned low. She crossed the room and held the candle high as she skimmed the shelf until she found Mr. Warren’s work. Pulling the book out, she tucked it under her arm and then moved her fingers until she found the hidden novel. Hadley replaced the Warren book and started across the room again.
Then she heard a groan and froze. Her eyes darted about, seeing no one. She waited several moments and then decided she was merely hearing things. Before she could take another step, though, the sound came again. And then weeping.
Alarmed, she stepped gingerly, holding the candle up as she searched. A moan caused her to pause and she glanced to the floor. A long, dark shape lay on the ground.
It was a man.
Fearful that he had tripped and hurt himself, she hurried toward him and knelt. She gasped when she saw it was Sebastian.
He was asleep and obviously very drunk from the strong smell of spirits rising from him. She glanced around and saw three empty bottles and assumed he had consumed all their contents. He began moaning again, thrashing about in his sleep. Hadley placed a hand upon his shoulder, hoping to soothe him. Immediately, she felt the heat of his body and realized he had stripped off his coat and waistcoat. They lay nearby. His cravat was also gone and his shirtsleeves messily pushed up his arms. She stared a long moment at the forearms, something she had never seen on a man. Something beautiful.
And horrible.
She held the flame closer and saw his arms riddled with scars. Some stood out white against his skin. Others puckered angrily. Some looked as though they had been burned into him. Her stomach roiled angrily at the sight.
These weren’t war wounds.
They came from being tortured.
Hadley placed her hand on his shoulder again and moved the light closer to his face. Sebastian looked as if he were in dreadful pain and she wondered if he was dreaming of what had been done to him. She now saw that his cravat also hid multiple scars. Without thinking, she touched her hand to his throat and petted him as she had Caesar, Phoebe’s tabby. His skin wasn’t smooth. She took the hem of his shirt and lifted it—and almost gagged.
His chest was riddled with scars, the same as his arms, only longer and deeper. He had been badly abused. Instinctively, she knew this was why his letters had halted for a period of time. Sebastian had been taken by the enemy. It crushed her to think of what he had suffered at their hands.
Yet he had never written of it. She knew it was something he must be ashamed of, something he had locked deeply within him. Anger poured through her, rage pointed at a nameless, faceless enemy who had marred him physically and damaged him emotionally. This must be why he didn’t want her as his wife. He didn’t want her to see the physical punishment he had endured.
Hadley set the candle down and brushed back the hair from his forehead. He continued muttering incoherently. She supposed his nightmares to be frequent, another thing he probably wanted to hide from her. She lifted his head and moved nearer, placing it in her lap. She continued stroking his hair, wanting to wash away his pain.
He seemed to wake, blinking several times, his words slurring now from the drink.
“Hush,” she told him. “Go back to sleep.”
“I am sorry,” he said as tears began streaming down his cheeks. “I tried to hold out. I fought so long. So long.”
“I know you did,” she said, gently smoothing his hair over and over.
“It got so bad. I wanted it to end. I wanted to die. I would have done or said anything for it to be over.”
He hiccupped and moaned. “I thought I was a patriot. Loyal to my king and country. They broke me. I am broken still.”
“You are healing, Sebastian,” she said softly. “The war is over.”
“It will never be over,” he said vehemently. “I told them what they wanted to know. I told them everything. I betrayed England. I betrayed myself.” His voice broke and his sobs grew louder.
Hadley couldn’t believe her ears. Shock filled her. This was Sebastian, a colonel in the king’s army. A leader among men. The man she had idolized ever since she was a girl. He had been captured—and broken. What he had revealed to the enemy might have cost countless number of lives. No wonder he had such self-loathing. And even though pity filled her, seeing his marred body, she found her soul crushed by his intoxicated confession. She couldn’t reconcile the vision of the hero she had worshipped, one whom she had placed upon a pedestal, and this drunken, weak man before her who had feet of clay.
Though she hurt for him and what he had been put through, something inside her shifted. It was more than bitter disappointment filling her. It was as if Sebastian had betrayed her, as well, pulverizing her heart. He had also deceived the world, allowing everyone to think he was a paragon of the perfect officer. She couldn’t understand why Wellington had continued to keep Sebastian as a valued part of his staff after he committed treason against his fellow men and country.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. She, too, was now shattered beyond repair. Sebastian had destroyed her belief in not only him—but herself. She had badly misjudged who he was, which made her question everything about herself. She had wanted to marry this man but that could never come to pass because she could never live with the lie that would always be between them. She had trusted him—and now that trust had been smashed into a thousand pieces.
Hadley slipped from under him. His eyes were closed again and he was asleep once more. She quickly left the library, her entire body trembling at the awful discovery. Now that she knew his terrible secret, she didn’t think she could ever be around him without bursting into tears. She felt shame at how his touch had affected her. It would be imperative to distance herself from him. Though she could keep a straight face during gameplay, she had no confidence in being able to do so now that she knew the ugly truth.
The one thing she would do is keep his secret. It was not hers to divulge. She would make sure a permanent break occurred between them. If he questioned her, let him think it was about the scars that disfigured his flesh. That she was shallow enough not to want him for that reason. It no longer mattered what he thought of her and it would be an excuse to part from him.
Returning to her room, Hadley thought until dawn and decided what she would need to do.
Chapter Sixteen
Hadley rose and washed her face. She had remained dry-eyed through the night. She was done crying tears over the Duke of Hardwick and grateful that he’d had enough sense to push her away. She couldn’t imagine what would have become of their marriage had she actually wed him. It was one thing for her to learn his awful secret and remove herself from his presence. It would have been another thing entirely had she wed the man and then learned of his treason. She would have had to remain by his side, pretending to all of Polite Society that he was a war hero. She would rather never have children than have their father be a traitor and a liar.
She rang for Millie, pacing until the maid arrived.
“Got the dress returned to the duchess’ maid, my lady. What would you like to wear today?”
“Anything. You choose.”
Millie brought a gown of pastel blue. Hadley nodded her approval and the maid dressed her. She went and sat at the dressing table while Millie took up her brush.
“I need you to do something for me today,” she began.
“What, my lady?”
“I am going to return to Hardwell Hall for the day and pack up my things.”
The servant looked stricken. “You are leaving?”
She didn’t want to get into the particulars with her maid and said, “Now that His Grace has returned, there’s no further need for me to stay. He will assume all of his duties, ones which I had handled when the previous duke was unable to do so himself. I am of age and no longer need a guardian. In fact, it is quite improper for me to be living in His Grace’s home without a chaperone.”
Millie’s nose scrunched up. “Gentry has some funny rules.”
“Nevertheless, I will be leaving Hardwell Hall and will need to have all my belongings gathered up today.”
“So, you won’t be returning with His Grace after the house party?”
“I will not,” she said firmly. “I know you have served as a parlor maid and assisted me at times. I don’t wish to ask you to choose—”
“I choose you, my lady,” Millie interrupted. “I didn’t really like the old duke. I don’t know this one. My loyalty is to you. That is, if you will have me. I know I am not a true lady’s maid.” She cast down her eyes, her mouth trembling.
Hadley turned. “Millie, I would be most happy if you choose to come with me.”
The girl brightened. “Truly?”
“Yes. I cannot guarantee where we will live, though.”
“Oh, it don’t matter a bit to me, my lady. I will follow wherever you go.”
“We will leave shortly after breakfast and be at Hardwell Hall several hours before returning to Blackstone Manor. Tell no one where we are going. Do you understand? This is very important.”
Millie looked perplexed by her mistress’ request but said, “Of course, my lady. Whatever you wish.”
“Good. I will summon you shortly.”
Hadley went downstairs for breakfast, earlier than usual, but she hoped to catch Arabella alone. The only people present at this hour were Elizabeth and Lord Hayward, who sat off by themselves, their conversation intense, and Arabella, who sat with her husband and Phoebe.
Going to them, she said to Arabella, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
Sympathy filled her friend’s eyes. “Whatever you need, Hadley.”
“I must go to Hardwell Hall today. Could you provide transportation for me and my maid?”
Jon studied her a moment and then said, “Of course. Our carriage is at your disposal. Might I ask why you wish to go there today when the house party ends tomorrow and you will be returning then?”
“I won’t go back to Hardwell Hall after today,” she stated. “His Grace needs the allegiance of his retainers. My presence would only result in divided loyalties. Besides, it isn’t proper for me to be under his roof, an unmarried woman with no chaperone.”
“Where will you go?” Phoebe inquired.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, I have. I had invited you to come visit the three of us. You may ride back to Windowmere with us tomorrow.”
Gratitude filled Hadley. “I am very thankful for your invitation, Phoebe. Would you do me a favor and not reveal to anyone, other than your husband, that those are my plans?”
“Is this about Sebastian?” Jon asked.
Hadley nodded, afraid to trust her voice for a moment.
“I know things went badly between you,” he continued. “Arabella told me.”
She had sworn to herself that she would never be the one to divulge what lay deep in Sebastian’s past. It was his secret to share with his friends, whether he chose to do so or not. Because of that, she chose her words carefully.
