“What if they’re dangerous?” Lydia asked.
“Then it’s fortunate I came prepared,” Arabella said, patting her reticule meaningfully.
“You carry a weapon?” Daphne asked.
“A small pistol. A woman must protect herself.”
Rose felt a chill. The casual mention of weapons reminded her uncomfortably of Honoria, who Violet had mentioned also carried a pistol.
They approached the clearing cautiously, the sound of male laughter and splashing growing louder. When the trees parted to reveal the sun-dappled pool, Rose’s breath caught in her throat.
Six men lounged in the clear water, their discarded clothes scattered along the bank. For a moment, all five women froze in shocked silence.
Rose’s gaze found Sebastian immediately. He stood in the shallows, water streaming from his dark hair, droplets catching the afternoon light as they traced paths down his chest and shoulders. She should look away—propriety demanded it—but she found herself unable to move.
It was then that she saw his back.
A network of scars crisscrossed the bronze skin from shoulder to waist. Some were thin silver lines, faded with time. Others were thick, raised welts that spoke of deliberate cruelty. One particularly vicious mark ran diagonally across his shoulder blade, the kind left by a whip wielded with practiced brutality.
Rose pressed her hand to her mouth, bile rising in her throat. Who could have done such a thing? And when? Most of the scars looked old, as if inflicted when he was much younger. A boy, perhaps, unable to defend himself.
She should turn away, should respect his privacy, but the sight of those marks filled her with such fierce, protective anger that she couldn’t move. Someone had hurt him. Repeatedly. Savagely.
Sebastian turned and their eyes met across the water. His expression shifted from surprise to something like mortification as he realized what she must be seeing. He didn’t move to cover himself or dive deeper into the water. He simply stood there, exposed and vulnerable, watching her with wary resignation.
Time seemed to slow. She wanted to run to him, to somehow shield him from the memory of whatever had left those marks. Instead, she could only stand frozen, her heart breaking for the pain he must have endured.
One of the younger gardeners spotted them and let out a yelp of alarm. “Lord preserve us—ladies!”
Chaos erupted as the men scrambled for their clothes, dove underwater or rushed toward the bank. Sebastian remained motionless, his gaze still locked with Rose’s, as if he were testing her reaction to his scarred body.
“Rose, we must go,” Lydia said urgently, tugging at her arm.
Rose tore her gaze away, her heart hammering. “Yes. Of course.”
They hurried back through the trees, the men’s panicked voices following them.
“Sweet Mary, if his lordship hears about this.”
“We’ll be out on our ears before supper.”
“Never thought we’d be entertaining the quality today.”
Only when the voices faded did any of the women dare speak.
“Well,” Daphne said, her face crimson. “That was… educational.”
Arabella laughed delightedly. “Educational indeed. Did you ladies enjoy your anatomy lesson?”
“I’ve never seen…” Daphne trailed off, fanning herself with her hand.
“A man without his clothes?” Arabella supplied helpfully. “They’re quite different creatures when undressed, aren’t they?”
Violet made a small, strangled sound and pulled her bonnet lower over her face. “If my cousin discovers what we’ve witnessed, she’ll be terribly angry I went with you. She thinks you’re all bad influences on me. Not that she truly cares about me, but you know how she is.”
“She won’t find out,” Arabella said. “Those poor men are far more concerned about their reputations than we need be about ours. They were the ones behaving improperly.”
“I rather suspect they’ll pretend this never happened,” Lydia said, nodding.
