Chapter 12 #3
A recent conversation Sebastian had with Verity sprung to mind.
It had taken place after her musicale while all the other guests were scuttling toward the door.
Sebastian had stayed behind so that he might congratulate Her Grace on a lovely evening without scores of women hanging on his every word and assuring him that his singing voice was the very best in all of England.
When all the others had left them in peace, he had asked the Duchess about her new acquaintance, Lady Phoebe.
At that point, Verity did not know much, other than the fact that the youngest daughter of Lord Tripleton had recently returned to town and was set to marry the Marquess of Birchwood, information Sebastian had already been painfully aware of himself.
Yet it was Verity’s voice that rang in his head now.
“Lady Phoebe returned to London a short time ago. She has not been in Society for more than three or four weeks complete.”
“Three or four weeks…”
Sebastian tapped his pen on the date at the top of the page.
“If Lady Phoebe only returned to town a short while ago, is it possible that two months ago, Lord Birchwood was just arranging the marriage pact with Lord Tripleton?”
The thought was conceivable.
The timeline fell into place almost seamlessly.
But these details about Lady Phoebe and Lord Birchwood were irrelevant.
Surely, they have nothing to do with Betula.
Again, Sebastian sifted through the documents, this time searching expressly for Birchwood’s name. It took some time, but he found it three more times.
Unlike some of the others, his debt had not been cleared quickly, and Sebastian’s stomach tightened when he saw the figures.
How can one man owe so much money?
Even though Sebastian had never felt obligated to trust or even like Lord Birchwood before, he was suddenly filled with a profound sense of loathing.
Birchwood means to marry Lady Phoebe and then…then she will have an equal share in his debt and shame. No man will ever be able to repay such a sum. The Marquess will be destitute before long and who knows what will happen to him then?
The thought was abhorrent.
His stomach roiled and his head spun, but now that Sebastian had finally made some headway, he could not stop himself from seeking further answers.
He ran his finger down the long list of names and stopped when he spotted one that made his blood run cold.
Lord Tripleton.
Sebastian gulped, swallowing the acrid taste of bile that rose in his gullet.
Lady Phoebe is being passed from one scoundrel to the next.
His eyes darted across the page, and he gasped when he saw the sum that had been scribbled parallel to Lord Tripleton’s name.
Good God!
A horrible feeling spread through Sebastian, and before he knew it, he was tapping rapidly on the desk to keep his hands busy, a fidgeting action he had not really done since he was a boy living with his father who had frayed his nerves and confidence each day.
“Why? Why would her father do this?”
Sebastian’s hand shook as he picked up his quill and wrote down the amount the Earl of Tripleton owed on a clean bit of the scroll. He stared at the lengthy list of zeroes and nearly wept.
“Never… never will either of these men be able to repay what they owe. It is almost unmanageable. Not alone. Not without help. Not without…”
He paused and stared at the numbers. Then, his eyes flicked back to the ledger where both Birchwood and Tripleton appeared.
“Lady Phoebe,” he whispered to himself. His fists clenched. “Tripleton and Birchwood have entered into an agreement with one another. They will combine their funds, share what remains of their wealth and Lady Phoebe will be more than the tie that binds them. Once she is Lord Birchwood’s wife…”
He could not bring himself to spell out completely what future he feared laid waiting for the lovely little lady with the curious blue eyes.
During their time together, she had not said much about her parents, but he had seen the way they treated her at public functions.
If they did not ignore her completely, Lord and Lady Tripleton thrusted her into the limelight, insisting that she be admired, and causing her cheeks to flame scarlet while she stumbled over her words.
His indignation had risen before, when he thought they were nothing more than an obnoxious pair of social climbers, seeking to use their daughter’s quiet obedience, good manners, and attractiveness to gain notoriety.
But now that he knew what they were really playing at, giving her to Lord Birchwood so that their families could form an alliance and work together to pay off their enormous debts, Sebastian was incensed.
“She is trapped with that foul man,” Sebastian growled, “because of a debt?”
He slammed his palms down on the desk, shoving to his feet. Restlessly, he paced back and forth across his study’s rug, trying not to get lost in the storm of thoughts that demanded he repay the sum, if only to free Lady Phoebe.
But, no. No, he could not do that. He had the money in his coffers. The Talwyn estate was worth more than Sebastian could ever dream of spending. But he could not rush to Lady Phoebe’s aid.
It would look too suspicious; his interference would incite too many questions. Jumping into the fray now and offering to pay the outstanding debts would expose him, and Sebastian could not risk it.
There must be another way.
Outrage rolled through him as he gripped the windowsill, his head hanging forward. His hair fell into his eyes as he tried to steady himself.
He did not know how long he stayed like that, trying to control his rising temper.
Sebastian was not an angry man. He was charming; He was mild-manner and the life of the party.
People adored him because he always kept his personal feelings under control, yet he could not do anything at that moment.
He breathed in and out through his nose for as long as it took for his heart rate to slow, to calm down.
I must do something.
He envisioned bringing Lord Birchwood down himself. Sebastian would work on the man quietly, in the shadows, never revealing all he knew or how he had come to learn this information. He would remove Lord Birchwood from the picture by degrees and save Lady Phoebe that way.
Birchwood does not deserve to be pardoned. Lord Tripleton either. Those men have debts to pay and…
But then Sebastian recalled how he obtained this information he meant to use against the gentlemen.
They are involved in some sort of criminal activity. They have either interacted with Betula or the know the man personally and that means they have betrayed their King.
A coy smile spread over his face and Sebastian embraced this side of his nature. He would don a mask again and become the charming, charismatic Duke of Talwyn.
No, he would not need to wear a mask.
He was the Duke of Talwyn.
He was none other than Sebastian Halshore, Duke of Talwyn, who sang so sweetly ladies swoon before him and who never resisted a card game, a drink, or a private meeting.
He had forged himself from the ground up and had become that persona years ago. Some days, he did not remember the boy who had been left at the side of the road, watching the broken carriage where—
“No,” he growled to himself. “Do not think of that. That is not who you are. That is the memory of a little, hurt boy. You are not that child anymore.”
No, he was not.
He was the Duke of Talwyn, primed and ready to destroy the men like Tripleton and Birchwood who needed to be eradicated from the ton altogether and brought to justice.