‘Oh, really? The intensely longing gazes? The flirting? The surreptitious touching under the tablecloth! Are you enamoured of Lord Millcroft or is it just another ploy to force Westbridge’s hand?’
‘Westbridge proposed last night.’ A bubble of laughter escaped. ‘I said I needed to consider it—but I’m going to turn him down, Penny. Isn’t that marvellous?’
‘Because of Seb?’
‘Yes, because of Seb! I’m in love, Penny. Deliriously, hopelessly head over heels in love with the man.’ Something she should probably tell him at her earliest convenience, too. Last night he had barely given her time to breathe, let alone speak.
‘You scarcely know him.’
‘I know enough.’
Penny’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘He has made fast friends with my husband.’ Under normal circumstances a valid note of caution. ‘I would hate for you to make the same mistakes I did.’
‘Oh, Penny...’ The guilt was unbearable. ‘Leave Penhurst. Today. I’ll help you. I’ll buy you a cottage somewhere well away from him, you could change your name...’
‘We have a son, Clarissa. I could never leave my baby behind.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting you did. I’m sure you’d both have a much happier life out of Penhurst’s clutches.’
Penny glanced down at where Clarissa’s hands had gripped both of hers tightly and stared. ‘If only...’
‘Let me help you. I guarantee I can have you out of this house before dinner.’ If Seb could help a harlot escape he would help her friend, she knew that with the same certainty that she knew he loved her. ‘Pack a small bag and...’ She felt Penny’s hands slide out of hers.
‘If I did that, then he would hunt me down. Not for me, but for his heir. He has powerful connections and the law would be on his side. I would spend my whole life in fear, looking over my shoulder. When he caught me, and he would catch me, I’d lose my son for ever.’ Resignation. Acceptance. Another forced sunny smile. ‘Besides, it’s not so bad. Penhurst spends so little time here that I frequently get to forget he exists.’
As one door closed, another always opened. ‘How often is he here?’
* * *
‘Millcroft. A word.’ Seb felt his hackles rise at Westbridge’s summons, but forced a bland expression as he turned around.
‘Your Grace?’ He made damn sure he didn’t incline his head one jot this time and pulled himself to stand at his full height for good measure.
‘In private. A gentleman doesn’t discuss matters of import in the hallway.’ The Duke barged past into the morning room, expecting Seb to follow.
‘Is this going to take long, only the stables are expecting me and I had planned a morning ride myself.’ Folding his arms, he sat on the arm of a convenient sofa and looked bored.
‘I wish to talk about your inappropriate relationship with Lady Clarissa.’
‘That is none of your business.’
‘I’m afraid it is. We are betrothed.’
Impossible. ‘Does she know?’ The flippant tone made the Duke turn bright red with indignation.
‘Of course she knows. I proposed yesterday. The banns are being read at St George’s next Sunday. We agreed to keep the engagement a secret until she could speak to her family in person.’
The bile rose in Seb’s throat. Gem had made no mention of it yesterday or last night as she lay in his arms. The windbag was lying. He had to be lying. ‘If I were you, I would talk to her again.’
‘I have. Just now, as a matter of fact, and she reiterated her joy at becoming my duchess. The Countess of Penhurst will bear witness as she was there and sworn to secrecy.’
The room tilted and for a moment Seb feared he might see his breakfast again. Only stubborn pride covered the pain. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. I shall pass on your felicitations tomyfiancée.’
‘I would rather pass them on myself.’ He wouldn’t believe it. She had given him her innocence. Flirted with him this morning. Entrusted him with a secret she hadn’t dared confide to another soul. He loved her. He’d told her. She hadn’t reciprocated the declaration...
‘I’m sure you would. Which brings me to my main point—Clarissa has asked me to inform you that your attentions are no longer required. They served anobviouspurpose—’ the Duke smiled in that condescending manner the aristocracy did so well ‘—because your little ruse worked, but frankly she was never going to consider a mere lord now, was she?’
