Chapter Seven
“YOU ARE MARRIED?” A clammy wave of shame broke over Rebecca when she contemplated the tender feelings she’d secretly harbored toward Sebastian.
“Was married,” he corrected her. “Some years ago when I was even younger and more foolish than my brother.”
“You divorced your wife?” Though she had no right in the world, Rebecca could not help feeling slighted that he had once given his heart to another woman.
“Divorced?” Sebastian wrinkled his strong, jutting nose as if at some distasteful odor. “I might have had grounds, but I could not have borne the humiliation of having all that dragged out before my colleagues in Parliament.”
After a moment of uneasy silence, he continued, “Lydia died after two years spent making my life miserable.”
Hearing the pain and bitterness in his voice, Rebecca knew at last what was responsible for that shadow in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, knowing she was not offering Sebastian the customary consolation on the loss of his wife. “Why did you not tell me before?”
The question had scarcely left her lips when she realized how little right she had to ask it. She had concealed far more important information from him. Besides, it was none of her business whether or not he’d ever been married.
To her surprise, Sebastian did not bring up either of those reasons against her. “It is not something I care to talk about. Indeed, I try to think of Lydia as little as possible, though my brother’s betrothal has stirred up all manner of unpleasant memories.”
“Perhaps it would help to talk about them.” Rebecca was not certain what prompted her to make such a suggestion—especially since she had never shared her unpleasant memories with anyone else.
She’d sometimes wondered if it might ease the heartache of those recollections, if she could unburden herself to someone close and caring. If she could persuade Sebastian to confide in her, it might help dispel the ghosts of his past. Then perhaps he would recognize that Hermione was nothing like the wife who’d deceived him.
Sebastian did not respond to her offer right away. Rebecca sensed a struggle taking place within him over whether to accept or decline.
“What good would it do?” he demanded at last, with almost savage intensity. “The past is done and nothing can change it. I can only seek to learn from my mistakes and make certain neither I nor my brother repeat them.”
It grieved her to see him suffer over something that had happened years ago. She knew how it felt to bear the scars of the old wounds.
“It is true we cannot change the past.” Groping for the right words, Rebecca raised a silent prayer for guidance. “But I believe people can change if they are open and willing. You changed your opinion of me, not because my character had altered, but because you came to know and understand me better.”
The grim severity of Sebastian’s expression eased as she spoke. Slowly, he sank onto the settee.
“You reckon I can alter my perception of the past by trying to understand it better?” He sounded doubtful but not altogether resistant to the possibility.
“Surely it is worth a try.” With careful, deliberate movements, Rebecca took a seat on the nearest chair.
It was some distance away from Sebastian and not directly opposite him. Instinct, or perhaps inspiration, warned her that he needed to maintain wider physical boundaries if he was to breach those around his heart.
Expecting to encounter further objections or reluctance, she could barely contain her surprise at his next words. “I met Lydia during my first Season in London, when I came to take up my seat in the House of Lords. I was a callow young fool who’d been buried in the Cotswolds trying to raise my younger brother after our father’s death. I was not prepared for the stimulation of Society, the feminine portion in particular.”
As he spoke, Rebecca fancied his features looking more like his brother’s. She could easily picture the young man he’d been—inexperienced, trusting and hungry for someone to love him.
“It was Lydia’s second Season.” Sebastian stared toward the window. The colors of the flowers outside looked even more vivid in contrast to the overcast sky. “When I was first introduced to her, I had never beheld such a glamorous creature. It was as if she had stepped out of a fine painting or the pages of a novel.”
A stab of self-doubt pierced Rebecca. No wonder Sebastian had been willing to give her a second chance and take her into his confidence. Her plain looks and lack of style would have raised no unwelcome reminders of his late, unlamented wife. She possessed none of the charms that might have placed his heart in peril.
She could not be sorry for anything that had allowed her to draw close to him. And yet... part of her wished she had the appeal to make Sebastian as attached to her as she had become to him.
Stifling that foolish regret, she focused her attention on his next words. “When that fascinating creature encouraged my attentions, I was beside myself with delight. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself betrothed, then married to a woman with whom I was barely acquainted. Only once the knot was securely tied did my lovely bride begin to show her true character. I soon discovered it was a hangman’s knot in the noose around my neck.”
He reached up to loosen his neck linen as if he could still feel the rope tightening around his throat. “I knew Lydia had no money to speak of, but I was too unworldly and besotted to care about such matters. After we were married she began wanting more and more from me—jewels, accounts at all the best shops, a small fortune in pin-money. As if her demands were not enough, her grasping relations came crawling out of the woodwork until I feared they would ruin me. When I protested that I could not support them all, she grew cold toward me and threatened to find a man who could give her and her family everything they wanted.
As Rebecca listened, a sense of outrage began to simmer within her, quickly intensifying to a full boil. Just as she had defended Sebastian against Hermione’s critical comments, she now wished she could take up arms on his behalf against his manipulative wife and her pack of greedy relatives. But even if she could go back in time, she would be powerless to stop them. Any help she could give Sebastian must be here and now.
She doubted that offering him a sympathetic ear would be enough. But it was all she had.
“I tried to placate her at first.” Sebastian rested his forehead on the palm of his hand. “Because I thought I loved her and I could not bear to lose her love. In the end I came to realize there was nothing to lose. She did not love me and never had, any more than a greedy sow loves a brimming trough of swill.”
The bitterness of his words was so caustic Rebecca fancied they might blister his mouth. “All that saved me was the discovery that I had never truly loved her either. I had been infatuated with a pretty mask. The person behind it was a stranger to me. Worse than a stranger—a loathsome parasite!”
That might be true and the belief could have spared Sebastian worse heartbreak. Yet Rebecca sensed his feelings for his late wife had been deeper than he could bring himself to admit. The way Lydia deceived and used him had cut deep. Perhaps he’d succeeded in burying those memories and the feelings they provoked until recently, but they had festered all that time, ready to flare up more venomous than ever.
“I felt trapped in a marriage that was destroying me.” Sebastian’s voice gradually grew quieter until Rebecca had to strain to make out what he was saying. “I hated the man I had become. One night she threatened, yet again, to leave me if I did not give in to her insatiable demands. I told her not to raise my hopes with false promises. She flounced off and I heard nothing more from her until she was found dead of a fever a few months later. When I received the news, I felt nothing but relief.”
Somehow Rebecca knew that was not the whole truth. Relief might have been his chief reaction, but not the only one. Perhaps he’d been tormented by guilt or grief for the marriage he’d hoped to have when he first fell in love with the beautiful debutante.
“Now you know the whole sordid story.” Sebastian rose from the settee with an air of deep weariness. “I wish I could claim it helped to speak of it, but that would not be true. I only hope it has helped you understand why I am driven to protect my brother from repeating my mistake and why I so deeply mistrust marriages of unequal fortune.”
“I do understand.” Rebecca got to her feet. “But that does not mean I agree. I know Hermione Leonard better than almost anyone. I promise you, she is nothing like... that woman.”
His face might have been hewn from granite and his eyes from slate. It was clear he would not, or could not, heed her. “Everything about that girl reminds me of Lydia when I first met her—all the sweetness and smiles, whispery voice and girlish giggles. The way Claude gushes on about her—he spouts all the same drivel as I used to, sometimes word for word.”
“You made a mistake committing your life to a woman without truly knowing her.” Rebecca strove to reach him. “Do not make the mistake of condemning Hermione before you truly know her.”
For a moment, she thought she’d succeeded.
Then Sebastian struck back. “Can you honestly assure me Hermione Leonard would have consented to wed my brother if he were poor?”
“I...” Loyalty to Hermione urged her to swear it was true. If she did, there was a chance Sebastian might believe her. But the truth was more complicated than that. With the painful memories he’d confided fresh in her mind, Rebecca could not truthfully claim that Hermione had given no thought to the advantages of wedding a man with a secure income and bright expectations.
Her hesitation appeared to give Sebastian the answer he’d sought, and expected. “I thought not.”
He headed for the door. “In that case, I reckon we should cease our debate. We are each too firmly convinced of our own positions. Nothing would come of continuing now except bad feeling between us. I should regret that.”
“So should I.” Was this the last time she would see him? “Sebastian, wait!”
He turned back toward her with one dark brow raised.
She ached at the prospect of parting from him forever without giving some indication of her feelings for him. But how could she? A woman like her had no business caring for a man so far beyond her reach. Everything he had told her about his marriage made her more deeply attached to him, yet his revelations had also made it impossible to betray any hint of her feelings. If he ever guessed that she cared for him, he would only despise her as another fortune-hunter.
Stifling a sob of frustration, she seized upon a convenient excuse for delaying him. “You forgot your sketch.”
Retrieving it from the settee, she brought it to him. Hard as she tried to prevent her hand from touching his, it did. A swift brush of fingertips, searing yet oh so sweet.
Then he was gone.
He must not return to Avoncross, Sebastian struggled to convince himself.
If there was one harsh lesson his marriage had taught him, it was to know when to cut his losses. He’d told Rebecca neither of them could hope to sway the other. But he had only been half right. Even after all she’d compelled him to reveal about his past, she remained as stubbornly loyal to Hermione Leonard as ever. Meanwhile, she had come dangerously close to persuading him, with her clear-sighted reason and appealing sincerity, even though he knew he was right.
Reliving the misery of his marriage had made him more committed than ever to protecting his brother. He must abandon his plan to enlist Rebecca’s help and figure out some other way to free Claude from that his hasty betrothal... before it was too late.
“Are you coming or not, Sebastian?” Claude glanced toward the mantel clock in the dining room then back at his brother. “Do make up your mind. The service starts in half an hour and I plan to be there, with or without you.”
Once again, Sebastian warned himself he should stay away from Avoncross. Only... he was not certain he dared let Claude go there by himself.
His brother had returned from London the previous day with the handsomely framed sketch of his fiancée and a ring to seal their betrothal. What if Miss Leonard persuaded the besotted young fool to whisk her off to Scotland for one of those scandalous anvil marriages? Sebastian dared not take that chance.
“Of course I’m coming.” He took one last swig of coffee, then rose and followed his brother.
Though Claude drove at his usual headlong pace, they only managed to slip into the sanctuary as the service was about to begin. For the next hour, Sebastian followed the liturgy as if his life depended on it. Every time his gaze strayed toward Rebecca Beaton, he forced it back to the pages of his prayer book. Whenever he found himself listening for her voice during a hymn, he sang louder to drown her out.
Unfortunately the Old Testament lesson was no help at all in keeping his mind off her. “Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.”
It seemed to Sebastian as if the writer of that ancient proverb was mocking him. He had not been able to find a virtuous woman—quite the contrary. Though he had once given Lydia a present of rubies, his heart had never been able to safely trust in her.
And yet, the Scripture held out the promise of another kind of woman—strong, productive, wise and honorable. An appealing image rose in his mind of Rebecca as a woman of ancient Israel, clad in a flowing robe and veil. He could picture her spinning wool, baking bread, tucking a child in for the night. That vision provided healing balm to his heart, raw from the painful memories he had gouged out of it.
The moment the service concluded, Claude sprang forward to speak to Miss Leonard and her father. Sebastian hung back, not wanting to get caught up in their exchange of meaningless pleasantries. He was not prepared for Rebecca to take up a position at the end of his pew and wait patiently for him to venture out.
“Miss Beaton.” He acknowledged her with a respectful bow, hoping she would not guess the kind of fancies he’d been entertaining about her. “I hope you are well.”
“Well enough.” She cast him a hesitant smile, as if she was not certain whether it would be welcome. “I wondered if I might ask a small favor of you?”
Could he refuse any favor she chose to ask of him? Sebastian feared he might be powerless to. “Do you wish to claim payment for sketching my portrait? Would it not have been simpler to accept my offer of money?”
Her smile disappeared, leaving Sebastian to reproach himself for having chased it away. “I am not seeking an exchange. The sketch is yours to keep whether or not you oblige my request.”
“What is this favor, then?” He tried not to feel suspicious but where women were concerned, it had become second nature.
“Would you consent to walk with me back to Rose Grange? I assume you and Mr. Stanhope came here in your gig. I believe he might like to offer Hermione a drive home.”
Sebastian was far from certain he could trust his brother not to make a dash for Gretna Green. Still, he could not keep from offering Rebecca his arm. “It is no favor you request, Miss Beaton, but one you confer. I would be honored to escort you home.”
They exchanged a few words with his brother and Miss Leonard on the way out, just enough to acquaint the younger couple with their intentions.
“Capital.” Claude looked like a schoolboy who’d just been given a treat. “We’ll meet you back at Rose Grange, then.”
Once the others were out of earshot, Sebastian grasped for some harmless topic of conversation.
But Rebecca appeared to have other ideas. “I must confess I did not ask you to walk me home only for Hermione’s sake. I have been thinking a great deal about our conversation the other day and I felt I must speak to you.”
Despite his best effort to remain impassive, Sebastian flinched. “Must we spoil a nice walk by dredging up all that unpleasantness again?”
It was pleasant to walk beside Rebecca, adjusting his gait to hers, savoring the subtle pressure of her hand on his arm, drinking in the mellow music of her voice. If only she would talk about something else.
Apparently that was too much to ask. “I appreciate you taking me into your confidence and I do not wish to distress you. But for the sake of Hermione and your brother, and most of all for your sake, I feel I must.”
Perhaps reluctant to let him reply in case he might protest further, she hurried on. “I believe it is vital for you to forgive your late wife.”
Her suggestion fell like a fresh blow on an unhealed wound.
“Forgive Lydia?” He nearly gagged on those words. “She must answer to a far higher power. My blame or forgiveness will not matter now.”
“Not to her perhaps,” Rebecca persisted with well-meaning stubbornness, “but to you and those around you. The bitterness you still harbor toward her is creating a blight upon an otherwise fine character. Though what happened is in the past, it still affects your actions to this day.”
“You mean my opposition to Claude’s engagement. I thought we agreed to cease any further discussion of that subject rather than risk ill feelings between us.”
“I shall be sorry if you think badly of me for raising this matter. But it is a risk I must take because I think so highly of you.”
Sebastian could not resist the warmth of her concern. It touched him more deeply than he was comfortable being touched, yet somehow it soothed the very feelings it inflamed. “What you ask is impossible. Lydia used me. She broke my heart and put me through two years of torment. Even if it would do any good, I would not know how to begin to forgive her.”
Rebecca seemed encouraged by his response, which was quite the opposite of what he’d intended. “Understanding is always a worthwhile place to start. If you cannot understand Lydia, at least try to have a little sympathy for Hermione... and me.”
He already had far too much sympathy for her. “I don’t understand what you have in common with them.”
“When we last met, you asked if I could swear Hermione would wed your brother if he were poor. When I could not, you assumed I meant she does not truly care for him. That is not what I meant at all. You see, it is not possible for a person of limited means to approach marriage in the same way as one with a comfortable, secure income. A woman especially, since she has few opportunities to earn more than a pittance.”
Sebastian seized the opening she’d provided. “That is precisely why I feel marriages of equal fortune are preferable.”
Rebecca shook her head. “Just because a woman must consider her future does not mean she would wed only for fortune. Since we met you have often commended my prudence and good sense. If I had an opportunity to wed, would I be prudent to marry a man who could not provide for me?”
“Of course not!” The notion of Rebecca wed to another man tore at him, especially if the match would doom her to a life of hardship.
“But that is the only kind of man who would be of equal fortune to me,” she reminded him. “Now consider another possibility. If I were to receive a proposal from a man who could provide well for me, giving me a home of my own at last and allowing me to raise my own children rather than always other people’s, would you condemn me for accepting him?”
Though he still shrank from the thought of her as another man’s wife, how could he blame her for pursuing a union that would give her the kind of life he wanted for her? “I hope you do not doubt my answer to that. I could not be so unfeeling.”
“Thank you.” She gave his arm a squeeze, as if he had done her some great favor rather than simply responding to a conjecture. “Yet it would be an unequal match. I have only my small salary and very little saved.”
“I know where you are leading with this,” Sebastian grumbled. “I will admit there may be times when such matches might be acceptable, as long as fortune was not the only consideration. Still I do not see how this has any bearing on Lydia and my... forgiving her.”
“Imagine I had a family who’d fallen on hard times and relied on me to assist them,” Rebecca urged him. “What if I were young and beautiful, capable of attracting the ardor of a wealthy man? Perhaps I would be too foolish and immature to love this man as he deserved. I might care for another whose lack of fortune would make him unacceptable to my family. What would you advise me then? Should I please myself at the expense of my family or be a dutiful daughter by wedding a man I did not love?
“No!” Sebastian came to an abrupt halt. “I cannot have you compare yourself to Lydia, even in fancy. You are nothing like her!”
Except in the pull she exerted upon his heart. “If you had been in the situation you describe, I know you’d have found some way that would not have deceived and hurt... the man who cared for you. You would have told him frankly of your circumstances and your true feelings then let him choose whether to walk away or try to win your love. You would not have led him on to milk him for every farthing you could get.”
Rebecca sighed. “I hope I would act with such integrity, but I cannot be certain. Hurt, fear and desperation make people do terrible things. We cannot condone their actions, but surely we can try to have compassion for their motives. It becomes easier if we ask ourselves what we would do in their place. I believe that is the beginning of forgiveness.”
As usual, she was making arguments Sebastian could not altogether refute. But the possibility that he might come to pity Lydia after everything she had put him through was like the cold barrel of a cocked pistol biting into his belly.
He began walking again as if fleeing pursuit. “I know the Bible bids us to forgive, but the best I can do is try to forget. Even that is not easy when I fear my brother is about to fall into the same trap.”
“Can you not see?” Rebecca gasped as she exerted herself to keep up with his brisk pace. “That is how your bitterness is hurting you and others. When we first met, you told me you would never wed or sire a family. You also said you had saved your brother from past romantic entanglements. Even if you manage to part him from Hermione, I fear he might never find a wife who would meet with your approval. In the end, he might come to resent your interference as much as you resent Lydia.”
That sounded like a threat—one with a terrifying ring of truth. Was it possible he might alienate his brother and end up a bitter old man, entirely alone?
That fear provoked Sebastian to lash out. “What gives you the right to lecture me on this subject? I am not one of your pupils, learning proper deportment or whatever it is you teach them. What do you know about suffering and bitterness? Shut away from life, training young girls in all the arts and graces they need to snare well-to-do husbands!”
Rebecca let go of his arm and shrank from his outburst. In her wide, changeable eyes, he glimpsed the sharp sting his words had inflicted. It made him thoroughly despise himself. She was the last person who deserved his censure and the very last he wanted to hurt.
He reached for her. “Rebecca, I didn’t mean... Please, forgi—”
How did he dare ask her forgiveness when he had spent the last quarter-hour railing against it?
She stumbled back as if she feared he might strike her if she let him get within reach.
Suddenly Sebastian realized they had arrived at Rose Grange.
He opened his mouth once more to apologize. But before he could force any words out, he heard the distinctive rattle of the gig behind him.
“Sebastian! Miss Beaton!” cried Claude. “Wish us joy! After you left, we spoke to the vicar and set the date for our wedding. The first reading of the banns will take place next Sunday!”
Sebastian’s first reaction was alarm that he had less than a month to rescue his brother. Then Rebecca’s warning echoed through his mind and he found himself questioning whether that would be the right thing to do after all.