‘Where?’
Another shrug. ‘He left in the carriage with Penhurst and his cronies about twenty minutes ago.’
‘But where have they gone?’
‘To that place you overheard the viscount talking about, my lady. The gentleman in me cannot bring myself to say its name in front of a lady.’
To that den of iniquity she’d heard them talking about? Surely not. Not Seb. Her shy and attractive spy. He wouldn’t...would he? Gray saw her outrage and positively beamed.
‘Penhurst invited him and Seb couldn’t say no, now could he? Duty and all that. Lucky devil. Meanwhile I get to spend the night sat on a cliff while he gets to...do his best for King and country.’ He chuckled and winked. ‘This is a difficult job sometimes.’
The pang of jealousy pierced through her outrage and it took all her strength to appear nonplussed as the man she hadn’t been sitting up waiting for—the man she hadn’t brushed her hair one hundred times for so that it shimmered in the candlelight or wore her best silk nightgown for—secured the rope to a sturdy piece of furniture and quietly lowered it out of the window.
Seb was in a brothel.
That place where the girls were buxom and could‘play the flute’—although she wasn’t altogether sure what that particular analogy meant—whatever Celeste did with her‘talented mouth’she could be doing it to him! Withhistalented mouth...
‘Are you all right, my lady?’
‘Yes, of course. Perfectly fine. Splendid, in fact. What time is Mr Leatham expected back?’
‘Who knows. Dawn? Lunchtime? Such things can take time.’ Gray appeared to be vastly amused. ‘I wouldn’t wait up. For either him or me. Just leave this window open a crack and I’ll sneak in. No doubt considerably earlier than that lucky Lord Millcroft.’ He chuckled again as he threw his legs over the ledge, then disappeared over the side.
* * *
Seb did not appear at breakfast. Nor did he take morning tea with everyone in the garden when both Lord Regis and Lord Gaines managed to arrive. Granted, they looked the worse for wear, but at least they managed to make an appearance, which left Clarissa stewing in her own juices and conjuring all sorts of ghastly images in her head.
Was Seb so exhausted by his night that he was still abed? Or worse, was he still there engaging in a whole host of sordid pleasures of the flesh with Penhurst? Were they sharing the same woman? How did two men share the same woman? Exactly how many ladies had Seb been with? Clarissa was incensed and appalled at the thoughts which refused to go away no matter how hard she tried to ignore them.
And it wasn’t as if she had anyone she could ask. Gray must have stealthily clambered back in during the single solitary hour she had managed to get some sleep after his dreadful revelation and she hadn’t seen him since. Penhurst and his cronies couldn’t know that she knew where they had all been and she could hardly ask poor Penny.Excuse me—but what time did your husband and my spy roll in from their night of debauchery?
To make matters worse, Westbridge wouldn’t leave her alone and had been following her around all morning, which meant by default the limpet Olivia had also been following her around, as well.
Good Lord, the man droned on.
If she had to listen to one more rendition of how the Regent admired his stupid art collection, she would scream. Another thing she was furious at Seb for. Before he crashed into her life and turned it on its head, Clarissa had been perfectly content in Westbridge’s company. Had been grateful for it because it singled her out as special and she had hoped it would lead to a permanent arrangement. But now that she had been introduced to the intrigue and excitement of Seb’s world, had been more than a pretty face and had learned what passion felt like, the Duke and his privileged but bland existence seemed insipid. It was difficult to be enthusiastic about objets d’art when you were assisting your King and country on a higher purpose. This must be how her sister Bella felt about practising medicine. Feeling useful and needed was intoxicating. Just as Seb was. Dratted man!
‘Is everything all right, Clarissa?’ Penny’s concerned whisper tempered her fury with guilt. How could she selfishly continue to indulge her roiling jealousy when her friend’s life was about to be ruined?
‘Not really. If you want to know the honest truth, I’m worried about you.’
‘Me? Whatever for?’
‘You seem unhappy, Penny. With Penhurst.’ They had never talked about the state of Penny’s marriage. It had always seemed too personal and intrusive to do so. Yet maybe Clarissa was being neglectful by not asking. Her friend stared into her teacup with such an expression of despair, it made Clarissa feel dreadful for not asking beforehand. ‘I hate to see how he neglects you.’
‘It is the way of things in a marriage.’
Not according to Seb. Or the happy union between Clarissa’s parents or that of her sister and her brilliant physician. ‘It doesn’t have to be.’
‘I fear it does for me. The neglect is not so bad. He lives his life and I live mine.’
What did that mean? ‘And when he doesn’t neglect you?’
‘Then I wish I had listened to you all those years ago. You had his measure while my head was turned. But I have made my bed and now I try to make the best of it. These parties help. I get to be with you while he amuses himself with whatever mistress has currently taken his fancy.’ At Clarissa’s shocked expression, Penny offered her a wry smile. It was achingly sad. ‘You don’t have to pretend, Clarissa. I realised the sort of man I’d married after I said my vows. He is quite open about his infidelities, especially now that he has his heir, and I find myself selfishly relieved that he goes elsewhere for his pleasures. It is nice to be able to go to bed and not worry if he will honour me with a visit.’ Embarrassed at her own candour, Penny sipped her tea and forced a cheerful smile. ‘But don’t worry about that side of things. Not all men are like Penhurst and I am told that the marriage bed can be quite tolerable with the right sort of husband. Talking of which, Westbridge is taking more notice of you since Lord Millcroft showed up. He has asked me specifically to place you next to him at dinner again. You. Not Lady Olivia. You are making progress on that score. Why, he has been talking to you exclusively for over an hour.’ Penny obviously wanted to change the subject.
‘Tell me—if by some bizarre turn of fate the opportunity arose for you to escape Penhurst, would you take it?’
‘I would grab it with both hands.’ Penny’s fierceness and lack of hesitation alleviated some of Clarissa’s guilt. ‘But alas, short of a miracle I fear I am trapped to spend eternity with him.’
