Chapter 19

"Did my father retire to his chamber?" Sebastian asked the butler swiftly.

He nodded. "Yes, my lord. He went upstairs around ten minutes ago."

Sebastian sighed. "Good," he said briskly. He breathed out. He could barely think—all that was in his mind was the sweet way Eleanor had blushed as he pressed her hand to his lips. The scent of her skin—rosewater and lavender-flowers—clung in his nostrils, making his senses swim. He longed to kiss her again, and this time on her lips.

"Should I check on your father, my lord?" the butler asked.

"No...I am certain he is well. His manservant will attend him if he needs help, and he is instructed to fetch me if Papa takes ill again." He had organized that almost a week ago, when Papa was first ill.

"Yes, my lord," the butler replied.

Sebastian nodded to him and hurried off. He could not wait to return to the ballroom. Eleanor was there, and he was about to go to the terrace with her. There, he could kiss her lips and hold her close and whisper to her how much longing for her tormented him. He walked briskly into the ballroom.

The marble floor where the guests stood about or danced was a little lower than the doorway, accessed by a shallow flight of stairs. Sebastian stood at the top of the steps, gaze scanning the crowd.

"Where is she?" he murmured to himself.

Eleanor was the only woman in attendance in an emerald-green dress with brown hair, and even if there had been a dozen such, he would have spotted her anywhere. His senses would seek her across any distance. He let his eyes scan the crowd and frowned. She was not there.

Sebastian blinked, letting his gaze rove the assembled people again. He spotted Matthew, talking with a woman with auburn hair and a tall man. He didn't recognize them from so far away, but Matthew was obvious in his stylish tailcoat. He wandered over, heart thumping with tension.

"Matthew? Have you seen Eleanor anywhere?"

Matthew frowned. "No. No, I haven't, old chap. Is she on the terrace, mayhap? It is hot here."

"Good point," Sebastian agreed. Surely, she would have waited for him before going out there? But then, that was the logical place to be waiting for him.

He walked briskly through the crowd, heading for the doors.

"Excuse me. Pardon me," he murmured, slipping between people, or stepping neatly around them. A few people glared at him as he almost bumped into them, but he ignored that. He needed to find Eleanor.

He reached the doors to the terrace and walked swiftly through. Outside, the sound of talk and laughter hit him like a wave. More guests than he would have imagined had decided to seek refuge from the heat of the ballroom outdoors, even though the wind was decidedly cold, and he drew his tailcoat closer, shivering. He bit his lip. Unless Eleanor had fetched a mantle from upstairs, she would be freezing out here.

He spotted Lord Grovedale on the edge of the group and wandered over.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, casting a brief gaze around the two or three people who stood chatting with the fellow. "But none of you happen to have seen Lady Glenfield, have you?"

An uncomfortable silence descended on the group. Sebastian frowned at them.

"What?" he demanded when nobody spoke. "What is the matter? If you have something to say, share it."

Lord Grovedale glanced awkwardly about, wetting his lips. When none of the others spoke, he began.

"My lord...Lady Glenfield was hurrying off into the grounds, in the company of a man."

"What?" Sebastian's voice was harsh. He stared at them all, disbelieving. "If you're fooling, I warn you..." he began harshly, but Lord Grovedale shook his head.

"I am telling the truth. I have heard say that the fellow is her brother, but..." he raised a brow and Sebastian frowned.

"She does have a brother," he said firmly. He looked around the group, but nobody said anything, and he cleared his throat. "She went that way?" He pointed.

"Yes. Down the path," Lord Grovedale replied.

Sebastian turned and walked swiftly off, nodding briefly in thanks. His heart raced. What on Earth had happened? He knew Eleanor would not...do as the man had implied. She was certainly talking to her brother. But what was he doing here?

He hurried down the path, gritting his teeth in the cold and stumbling on the stone paving. It was dangerous outside. The garden was not well lit and the chill in the air was decidedly unhealthy. He glanced around, hearing a noise.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Someone yelled.

Sebastian tensed, his hair on the back of his neck lifting in shock. But just as he readied himself to attack, he heard laughter.

"Tommy, stop mucking about," someone else yelled. More laughter followed.

It's the coachmen and the grooms, Sebastian thought wildly. They were waiting with the coaches for the guests, and it sounded like some of them had been taking more than a little of the good ale his kitchen provided. He swore under his breath.

It was no place for a lady to be wandering around.

He raced on down the path, not even sure what he was looking for. He had no idea where she might have gone. The path led to the water-garden, which was as yet unfinished, the small ornamental lake dug, but nothing planted around it. He frowned. Surely, she couldn't have thought to go and dig new beds for the garden at night?

He hurried past. It was dark and cold outside, and he peered into the gate of the small garden, but there was no sound coming from there.

"Eleanor?" he called.

Nobody answered.

Sebastian drew in a deep breath. She could be anywhere.

He walked on, hurrying down the path. All he knew was that someone had seen her follow this path and so he raced down it as fast as he could manage in the dark. He was dimly aware of the stables on his right and then he ran on further and halted.

"...you don't understand! He has done nothing!"

Sebastian went stiff. Just ahead of him, around the hedge that separated the grounds around the house from the woodlands of the rest of the estate, a man's voice was raised. Someone was shouting.

"I tell you; I am certain..." a woman's voice began, but Sebastian raced forward as soon as he heard her, cutting off what she had been about to say. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

He raced around the hedge and stopped in shock.

Eleanor was standing with a man, who had one hand on her wrist, stopping her from running away. His other hand was raised as if he would strike her. Sebastian's blood froze.

"Release Lady Glenfield immediately," Sebastian whispered menacingly. "Or there will be dire consequences."

"Sebastian!" Eleanor cried. She ran to him and hid behind him. Sebastian wheeled round, glaring at the man.

"How dare you," he demanded. He glared down. The man stiffened, glaring up at him. He was shorter than Sebastian recalled, with the same brown hair and hazel eyes as his sister. His face was slender, his jaw square and his nose long and elegant, different to the small, pretty nose of his sister. It was undoubtedly her brother.

"And you, sir?" Eleanor's brother demanded. He couldn't recall the fellow's name. "And you? I might ask you the same question?"

"Impertinent fool," Sebastian growled. "This is my home. And this lady who you were harming is Lady Glenfield. Lest you have forgotten."

"It's not me who has no memory," Eleanor's brother shouted. "You're the one who has no memory of our agreement."

Sebastian's brow lifted. "We do not have one."

"Oh, don't we?" Eleanor's brother demanded. "Is that how you wriggle clear of it? You toffee-nosed lump of lard!"

"What did you say?" Sebastian demanded. He reached forward, grabbing the man's collar.

"I said..." the man began, reaching for Sebastian's hand. When he could not prize his fingers loose, he raised his other hand in a fist.

"Jonathan!" Eleanor shouted. "For pity's sake!"

Her brother wheeled round, glaring at his sister.

" Enough !" Sebastian yelled. He stepped between Eleanor and Jonathan again and glared at the man.

"Jonathan, please," Eleanor whispered. She was almost in tears, Sebastian noted, and his rage against the fellow grew to new levels. He had not been pleased bybeing insulted or having someone shake his fist at him, but having Eleanor in distress was too much for him.

"You have already caused enough problems," Sebastian growled at the man. "Coming here, disrupting our ball. How dare you? You're not even a guest."

"No. I'm sure," Jonathan shouted back. "Why would you include a wanted criminal on the list?"

"I beg your pardon?" Sebastian stared at him, horrified. "What have you done?"

"Sebastian," Eleanor whispered. "It's true. He...the charges...your father..." she was close to tears, her words tumbling out without clear meaning. Sebastian went to her, taking her hand and resting his other hand gently on her head.

"Shh." He whispered. "It's all right."

"Your father promised him," Eleanor began, talking more slowly now. "He promised that the charges that were laid against him for embezzling money would be dropped. He never stole anything, Sebastian."

"Shh," Sebastian said again. "I believe you."

He looked at Jonathan. The man was silent.

Eleanor sniffed and held Sebastian's hand. He gripped her fingers tightly, trying to bring some comfort to her. Her hands were icy, and she was shivering lightly all over in the thin gown with its filmy sleeves. He could see how distressed she was, how upset all of these things had made her. He felt his stomach twist with rage.

"Now," he said, turning to Jonathan as soon as Eleanor was calmer. "You had best come inside—it's cold out here. And I warn you, any insult to Eleanor or to myself will not help you."

"You're an earl and it's no wonder that you think you can order us about," Jonathan began angrily, but Eleanor looked at him crossly.

"Stop it, Jonathan," she said softly. "Sebastian can help you."

Sebastian smiled at Eleanor and took off his coat for her. She wrapped it tight around her, still shivering in the cold.

"Why should I trust you?" Jonathan asked, narrowing his gaze at Sebastian.

"For Pity's sake," Sebastian sighed. "You don't have to trust me. Tell me what all this is about, and I'll tell you what I can do to assist. Then you can decide if you trust me or not."

Jonathan glared but said nothing for a moment. Then, as Eleanor stepped closer as if to prompt him to speak, he began.

"Your father and I had an agreement," Jonathan told him. "I was facing charges, and your father agreed, with my father, to have them dropped on the condition that my father gave Eleanor permission to wed you."

"My father..." Sebastian stared. That made no sense. Surely, that wasn't true.

"He did," Eleanor said swiftly. "But it makes no difference to me," she added hastily. Sebastian breathed out.

"Nor me."

Eleanor looked as though the weight of worry had dropped from her shoulders, her face relaxing, body limp.

"Very well," Sebastian said tightly. "And what charges were these?"

"They said I stole money," Jonathan said, his voice close to weeping. "They said I had made bogus investments to fleece clients of their wealth. I did no such thing. I was stupid," he admitted, and this time Sebastian thought he was crying. He could hear how his voice was breathy, difficult to follow. "I invested badly. The shipping company I invested in could not make the voyage they promised. They could not make a profit. The clients lost all their money."

Sebastian swallowed hard. Jonathan was sobbing and he looked away. His heart twisted. He looked at Eleanor, who was white-faced, the tracks of recent tears on her cheeks. He glanced around the darkened garden, not sure what to think.

"My wife. My children," Jonathan whispered. "They are going to take my children. Without my income, the only place they can go is the workhouse. I can't..."

" What ?" Sebastian whispered. He looked at Eleanor, who was sobbing.

"No," she said softly. "No. Please, no."

Sebastian went to her, taking her hands in his. He looked into her eyes. She was crying now too, and he reached out to hold her.

"No," she whispered, holding tightly to him. "Not the children. Please. Please, don't let them take the children."

"It's all well," Sebastian murmured, feeling completely inadequate to help. He held her close, breathing in the lavender scent of her hair. He tightened his arms around her, feeling her shake with her sobs. Across the gap, he glared at Jonathan.

"You've upset Lady Glenfield quite enough," he told him crossly. "But I will help you. Let us all go inside, where it's warm and safe and we can discuss what we can do."

Jonathan cleared his throat, but Eleanor glared at him, and he said nothing. He fell into step with Sebastian, and they walked towards the house.

"What exactly did my father promise you?" Sebastian asked, walking slowly up the path. It was extremely dark under the trees and Sebastian shivered in the cold. He glanced at Eleanor, who was still clearly cold, gripping the coat tight around her shoulders. They were much further from the house than he had thought—he realized that he must have run through the grounds without thinking.

"He promised to organise that the court would drop the charges," Jonathan explained.

"He did?" Sebastian frowned. His father must have been very sure that Jonathan was innocent, because he would never interfere in such a matter if he truly believed someone was guilty. He glanced up at Eleanor, who was walking in front of them. Jonathan was behind her, and Sebastian walked in the rear. She tensed, and Sebastian stiffened.

There was someone coming along the path.

His first thought was that some guests had strayed from the ballroom, and he smiled to himself in amusement, but then a light, harsh and bright, shone on the path.

"Who goes there?" An angry voice shouted. "Stop, in the name of the law!"