‘If you have a moment I would like a word.’
‘About?’ Not that she cared, her mind was too busy trying to work out why Seb was fuming. What exactly had happened between breakfast and lunch to turn him from an adoring lover to a snarling stranger? It was so out of character. Something must be very wrong.
‘The question I asked yesterday.’
Oh, good gracious—she had completely forgotten about that. Westbridge’s lacklustre proposal was so low on her list of priorities it had not occurred to her to respond. Not when there had been Penny’s woes, smugglers, and scorching kisses in the rain and earth-shattering passion in her bedchamber. ‘Thank you for your proposal.’ Because Lord only knew she had waited long enough for it. ‘But the answer is no.’
‘No?’ The Duke gaped, incredulous. ‘Are you toying with me?’
‘Not at all. I gave the matter careful consideration...’
‘Hardly careful consideration if your answer is no!’
Pompous windbag! ‘I do not love you, your Grace. If I am honest, I am not altogether sure I even like you.’
The ugly blood vessel next to his eye rose and began to twitch with indignation. For the longest time he said nothing, then his face changed. ‘I see what this is about.’ His finger wagged amongst the profusion of lace. ‘I made you wait—ergo, you are getting your own back.’
‘Not at all...’
‘I shall redouble my efforts to court you.’
‘That would make no difference!’ The stupid man wasn’t listening to her at all. As usual. ‘I don’t want you to court me. The truth is...’
‘The truth is as plain as the nose on your face and I will enjoy the chase. What would you like? Flowers? Jewels?’
‘Nothing. I want nothing from you.’
‘Love poetry, perhaps? Something that does justice to your beauty.’
Good grief, she could think of nothing worse. ‘You are quite mistaken, your Grace. I want nothing from you. Not even your company henceforth...’
He grinned. It didn’t suit him. ‘Leave it with me. I shall surprise you.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’
‘And I shall begin at once.’
‘You would be wasting your breath.’ But Clarissa was talking to his back. Imbued with a sense of purpose, the Duke was off on a mission of his own. So be it. She had better things to do than chase after the fool and correct him. He would get the message soon enough when she became Mrs Leatham. And shewouldbecome Mrs Leatham because Seb loved her. The real him had said so and he had meant it regardless of the nonsense he had spewed just now. A man who made love to her so ardently and with such tenderness couldn’t fake those feelings. Seb adored her. The real her. And she adored him, too. Something that was far too precious to lose. She would let him cool down, then have it out with him, and if that failed she would knock him over his thick head with her redundant curling iron and drag him to the altar.
Men!
* * *
‘The Excise Men will arrive here at eight just after everyone is seated at dinner.’
The sight of Gray in his bedchamber, diligently cleaning his pistols, was not what Seb wanted. Not yet. He needed at least twenty minutes to smash every stick of furniture in the room before he was truly capable of reason. Perhaps an hour. Three. Twelve. He suppressed the rage and the pain and grunted in response.
‘What’s wrong?’ His second paused, dropped the rag and frowned. ‘Do we have a problem?’
‘No.’
‘Really? Only you look ready to commit murder.’
He was. Westbridge, his long-lost brother. Gem. He wanted to wring her damned neck. He knew better than to expect, to covet what he couldn’t have, yet the ache in his chest was crippling him. ‘I’m merely eager to get this mission over with.’ Which was why Seb was rushing the conclusion when all they really had was more circumstantial evidence. Nothing a thorough search of the Penhurst cellar wouldn’t remedy if his gut instinct was correct. Nothing had left by road, so the illegal brandy still had to be there. The viscount was probably waiting for all the guests to leave before he shifted it. Most were leaving tomorrow. He had already informed the butler and his brow-beaten hostess he would be one of them. If the contraband wasn’t in the cellar, then he’d deal with the dire consequences later. It wasn’t as if he could feel any worse. ‘I’ve had about as much of society as I can stomach.’
‘Not all society though.’ His friend winked. ‘Dawkins mentioned he saw you kissing a certainladyon the Downs last night.’ The reminder was like a blow that winded him. His grief must have been obvious because Gray’s roguish grin was replaced swiftly with sympathy. ‘Oh...right...well, I’ve cleaned all the guns. I’ll hang around here, watch the cellar, etcetera, until they arrive. The rest of the men will make their way towards the house later. There’s a coastguard vessel anchored in the harbour as plain as day in case they get any ideas of moving the stuff before tonight and, of course, the other ships will flood the bay just before the off. Lord Fennimore has been summoned and should be well on his way by now. Anything I’ve missed?’
Only the complete annihilation of hope. ‘No. We’re all set.’
