A Little Bit Sinful (35 page)

“We were unaware that you counted someone among us as your friend,” the matron admitted, casting a glare at the other women, obviously
searching for the individual who had dared to withhold such a juicy
on-dit.

Sebastian flicked a glance at Eleanor. She remained silent, her grim scrutiny of him so intense it nearly burned a hole through the fabric of his jacket.

“How are you today, Mrs. Stewart?”

As expected, the resulting silence was deafening.

The matron’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Mrs. Stewart? My goodness, whoever would have guessed? Why, you’ve been here these many days, my lord, and she has never once uttered a word about you to any of us. Pray, tell us, Mrs. Stewart, where did you meet his lordship?”

Eleanor visibly gritted her teeth before quietly muttering, “In London.”

The matron flushed, the red in her face clashing markedly with the orange of her gown. “Aren’t you the sly one, my dear. We had no idea you moved in such exalted social circles, did we, ladies?”

The women nodded fervently, their expressions accusatory. Eleanor’s face drained of color. She looked helplessly from the group of women to him. Trembling, she opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, sighing in resignation.

Say it! Reveal her real name, her true rank, her lie. It’s for her own good, as well as yours.
Sebastian smiled softly, imagining Eleanor as his wife. Then he thought of the heartache and humiliation she would suffer when he told these women the truth. His smile slid away.

“‘Twas actually Mr. Stewart with whom I was better acquainted,” Sebastian said, laying a gentle hand on Eleanor’s arm in an attempt to calm her
trembling. “His untimely passing was a harsh blow to those of us who were privileged to know him, for he was an honorable man, one without equal, a man I was proud to call my friend.”

“Indeed, Mr. Stewart was a man of unparalleled virtue,” Aunt Jane broke in quickly, relief edging her voice. “It has been a sad and difficult time without him.”

She tugged Eleanor away from Sebastian’s grasp and after a hasty good-bye, hustled her out of the shop, leaving him behind to field the myriad of questions posed by a gossip-hungry group of women.

When he finally escaped, he could feel a headache starting behind his eyes. Thankfully, the fresh air offered some relief. Intending to get a great deal more of it, Sebastian headed purposefully toward the stables. He had just turned the corner when he heard his name being called.

His insides twisted at the sight of Eleanor rushing toward him. No doubt she was coming to thank him. And bid him farewell. ‘Twas a bitter pill to swallow.

“You couldn’t do it,” she said breathlessly, her eyes shining. “You couldn’t tell them the truth about me.”

“No.” He exhaled roughly, the bite of failure sharp in his chest. “But this does not mean I am going to abandon you and our child. I will send funds, make periodic visits to ensure—”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “I’ll marry you.”

Sebastian paused, certain he had misheard. “Say that again.”

“I’ll marry you,” she repeated, regarding him evenly.

“But your secret is safe, your position here as the widow Stewart even more secure now that the lie has been collaborated by me. An earl.” He managed a wry smile and to his complete amazement she joined him.

“Yes, the ladies were most impressed. I had forgotten how darn charming you can be when you put your mind to it.”

“So it was my charm that finally made you accept?” he asked lightly.

She shook her head. “The scene could not have been more perfect if it had been written in a play. Nearly every female of social importance gathered together in one place. It would have been so easy, effortless really, for you to have told them the truth. Yet you didn’t expose me, Sebastian. You
couldn’t
expose me.” Her eyes softened. “And that gives me hope.”

They were wed three days later with a special license in a simple ceremony at a church en route to Yorkshire. A teary-eyed Aunt Jane and the vicar’s wife served as witnesses. Eleanor wore a pale blue muslin gown made months ago in London by Madame Claudette, with the bust and seams let out to accommodate her fuller figure.

Her condition was noticeable, of course, but neither the vicar nor his wife made any comment or gave any indication that something was amiss. Eleanor decided they must have been paid very handsomely to effortlessly pull off such a warm, personal service on such short notice.

Throughout the ceremony Eleanor remained keenly aware of her handsome bridegroom, standing so still beside her. Many a woman would envy her good fortune at snagging such an impressive man for a husband, but Eleanor’s feelings were decidedly mixed.

Sebastian’s actions in the shop had renewed her faith in his character, had given her hope for the
future, yet she knew well the risk she was taking. If she were wrong about him, she would be miserable, but it was her unborn child who would suffer the most.

The vicar paused, looking at her expectantly.
There is still time to back out.
Eleanor swallowed as a pang of fear twisted inside her. Was she making a horrible mistake?

Her nervous gaze swung to Sebastian. He tensed, sensing her conflict, probably wondering how he was going to explain things to the vicar if she turned on her heel and fled. Then Sebastian’s warm hand closed gently over her cold one. She shuddered.

“‘Tis your turn to recite the vows,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Courage, Eleanor.
She bit the inside of her cheek to calm herself, then carefully repeated the words, binding herself to him through this life, and the next, to a man she loved with all her heart. A man who made her uneasy.

Sebastian pushed the diamond-encrusted ring past her knuckle and settled it into place. It was done. They were married. Together they accepted congratulations from the vicar and his wife. Aunt Jane hugged her fiercely, then turned to Sebastian.

“I thought you a weasel of the first order the day you stormed into my drawing room, my lord,” Aunt Jane proclaimed. “But my niece assures me there is more to your character. I must trust her judgment, yet only time will tell if my initial impression of you stands.”

On that ominous note, they left the church, traveling to a nearby inn where Sebastian had arranged for a wedding supper to be served. Aunt
Jane accompanied them and Eleanor was glad of the company. She was not yet ready to be alone with her new husband.

Though the food was varied and well-prepared, Eleanor scarcely ate a bite during dinner. Sebastian did the same. She could not help but notice that he drank only one glass of wine. Aunt Jane finished the bottle and was snoring quietly in her chair by the time dessert was served.

“Our rooms have been made ready,” Sebastian said after their uneaten dessert had been cleared. “You can retire whenever you wish.”

“I think I’ll go now,” Eleanor replied. “It’s been a long day.”

She nudged Aunt Jane’s shoulder. The older woman came awake slowly, frowning with momentary disorientation. The innkeeper’s wife arrived to show Aunt Jane to her chamber, then returned to escort Eleanor.

“Our finest room,” the innkeeper’s wife announced proudly, taking Eleanor through a small sitting room into a spacious bedchamber.

Eleanor muttered her approval, trying to calm the butterflies rioting in her stomach and ignore the large bed occupying the majority of the space. Set against the wall, the tester bed rested on a pedestal, the blankets and sheets turned down for the night, the green velvet bed curtains untied and waiting to enclose the area.

With the help of her maid, Eleanor undressed, washed, and donned her usual nightclothes. In deference to it being her wedding night, she added a silk robe in a vivid shade of red, a gift from
Aunt Jane. By adjusting the folds of the garment she was able to cover her belly. Mostly.

Once alone, Eleanor sat in an armchair beside the window. She considered removing a book from her portmanteau but knew there was no way she could concentrate on the words or follow the story. Her nerves simply would not allow it.

Thinking about the day behind her and the night ahead were not options either. She struggled to fill her head with pleasant, inane images like a litter of puppies or the first buds of spring and had just succeeded in calming her nerves when the door opened.

Sebastian entered, wearing a dressing gown of sapphire blue. His chest was bare, but she could see the gray of his breeches peeking through when he walked. A faint quiver traveled through her.

He must have changed in the sitting room, but her thoughts had been so scattered, she hadn’t heard him enter the suite. She watched silently as he shut and locked the door behind him, then went to the hearth. Grasping the poker, he stirred the flames.

“There’s a distinct chill in the air this evening. Are you warm enough?” he asked.

Eleanor lowered her gaze. There was a time when he would have smiled at her with heavy-lidded eyes and made a suggestive remark about keeping her warm throughout the night no matter how cold it got. Self-consciously she tugged at her robe, adjusting it over her protruding middle and admitted that her wedding night nerves might very well be in vain.

Though he claimed his desire for her had not been feigned, she was very much aware of the
reasons he had originally pursued her. Months ago perhaps she had been able to stir his blood in some small way, dressed in a fashionable gown and looking her best. But now?

Her pregnancy had brought many changes to her body. How could any man find her attractive, least of all someone with Sebastian’s experience?

“The fire is fine,” she said, finally answering his question, “the chamber comfortably warm.”

He set the fireplace poker aside and crossed the room toward her, his expression shuttered, his eyes slightly narrowed. She scrambled to her feet, not wanting him to have the advantage of looking down at her. Her movements were hasty and clumsy, rendering her momentarily unsteady.

His arm shot out, grabbing her elbow. “I’ve got you,” he said with a smile.

But do you want me?
The words reverberated in her head and she sincerely hoped they did not show in her face. Her attraction to Sebastian was as strong as ever—it would be humiliating if he did not feel at least some desire for her.

His gaze moved down her body, pausing at her waist. When she stood, her silk robe had opened, revealing her nightgown and the roundness of her belly.

“I hadn’t realized you were so big,” he said, his voice tinged with awe. “It does not appear this pronounced beneath your clothes.”

“Do you find me unsightly?” she asked nervously.

“No! I find all this strangely … intriguing.” His hand moved down to her hip, resting there for a moment. Then he laid his palm over her belly, slowly tracing the shape. “It must have been a tremendous
shock when you discovered your condition. How did you react? What did you feel?”

“Pure terror,” she confessed. “If not for Aunt Jane’s kindness and understanding I might have gone mad.”

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

She almost refused, but something in his eyes compelled her to speak. She started slowly, but then the words fell over themselves as she opened her memories and relived the moments. She held back nothing, telling him of her fear and anger, worry and despair, and how those emotions had gradually turned to acceptance and then finally anticipation.

While she spoke, Sebastian’s hand remained tightly splayed over her belly, almost as if he were trying to make a connection with the unborn child in her womb. It was an odd feeling, comforting, yet also erotically stimulating.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t with you from the beginning,” he said.

“That was my decision.” She drew a quick breath. “Are you sorry about the baby?”

“Not precisely.”

Hardly the most enthusiastic response, but at least it was honest. She wanted to probe deeper, to learn more about what he was thinking, feeling, but the baby suddenly shifted.

Sebastian’s hand jerked away. “It moved!”

“Yes.” Eleanor smiled. “That’s been happening more and more frequently.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. “It’s reassuring. The doctor told me that a healthy, active fetus is a good sign.”

“Hmm.” Color crept up his neck.

“Don’t tell me you are embarrassed?” Eleanor asked with a smile.

A peculiar expression flashed across his face. “If you must know, I’m feeling like a bit of a lecher.”

“Why?”

“You’re with child! In a delicate condition, a delicate state, and all I can think about is bedding you.”

“Truly?”

He groaned. “Good God, Eleanor, my desire for you has never waned, never lessened. Not once in all the months we’ve been apart.” To prove his words, Sebastian opened the front of his robe. Eleanor nearly blushed when she caught sight of his arousal, thick and heavy, straining against his breeches.

He hesitated and she realized he was waiting for her to let him know if she also desired him. Eleanor stared helplessly. She couldn’t find her tongue, couldn’t say what she wanted, since she honestly didn’t know. On one hand it was a welcome relief to know he still found her appealing, yet was she ready to accept him as her lover? Was she ready to start trusting him?

Well, she had married him.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“You once told me you would honor your marriage vows of fidelity,” she said. “I will.”

“Even if we do not have carnal relations for a long, long time. Perhaps never.”

His eyes flared. “I shall be faithful and cleave only to you. I have never forced a woman into my bed in my life. I most certainly do not intend to do so with my wife, a woman I respect above all others.”

It was a good answer, delivered with a sincerity
that she believed. She lowered her guard, ever so slightly, allowing herself to remember how it felt to make love with him. The strength of his kisses, the pleasure of his touch, the power of his passion.

“My desire is not as obvious as yours, yet ‘tis equally as strong. Force won’t be necessary.”