Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The very next morning, an elegant, crested carriage sped up the driveway to Westwood Hall with such haste that the gravel flew in all directions. It stopped in front of the entrance; the horses steaming. The door flew open, and a gentleman emerged, briskly ascending the staircase to the house.
“The Viscount of Penderyn has arrived, sir,” the butler announced, while Sebastian was in the middle of being shaved by his valet.
Sebastian jerked his head so suddenly that Hawkins nearly nicked him on the cheek. “What!”
“He appears to be most impatient, and it took me much persuasion to keep him from following me to your bedroom. Would you like me to serve him breakfast while you dress?”
Sebastian dried his face quickly. “Yes. No. I’ll meet him right away.” He pulled on his banyan and tied the belt. “Let Lady Viola sleep.”
“I’m already awake,” Viola announced, for she had just walked into her husband’s dressing room. “I’ve been awake for some time. We have visitors. Who is it?”
Sebastian swallowed as he headed for the door. “My brother.”
Sebastian’s oldest brother was not what she had imagined.
She had expected someone bulkier, perhaps; a country lord gone soft around the middle from too much port and too little exercise.
But Philip looked exactly like an older version of Sebastian: the same tall, athletic build, the same sharp chin and aquiline nose, though with grey-speckled hair and a rounder face.
By the time Viola finally entered the drawing room, having washed and dressed herself in a pale pink day dress, the two men were in the midst of a shouting match.
“This has nothing, I repeat, nothing whatsoever to do with our family name. It doesn’t involve you at all. So why you would think this has anything to do with you is just beyond me. This is my business, so pray, stay out of it.”
She’d rarely seen Sebastian so furious.
“Are you even aware of what they’re saying? Of what is being printed in the papers? The caricatures, the jokes, the gossip?” His brother, the viscount, naturally, would be concerned about the family name. A knot formed in Viola’s stomach.
“And so what if it is? It will blow over like everything else. You can’t tell me that this is in any way bigger than the scandal involving Byron or Brummel. Or, heaven forbid, the Prince Regent.”
Byron had not only separated from his wife but allegedly had an affair with his half-sister. Brummel, after he went bankrupt, was hounded by creditors until he had to flee the country. And Prinny, well, certainly no one could outdo Prinny when it came to scandalous liaisons.
“Good heavens.” His brother shuddered.
“Yes, good heavens,” Sebastian said testily. “So don’t needlessly stir the pot, pray.”
But Philip was still talking, clearly infuriated.
“It isn’t just about her, it’s you, your name. Your reputation. They say you are Count Morvino who takes part in a sordid vampire orgy. The audacity! People take that as a depiction of what happens in your private bedroom.”
At that, Sebastian clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Then I am a lucky fellow indeed, am I not? Besides, Philip, I seem to sense an undercurrent of jealousy there.”
“I am glad you seem to take this entire affair with a sense of humour,” his brother replied stiffly.
“Most certainly. Being married to Viola has trained my sense of humour enormously.”
Viola weighed the comment, uncertain whether it was a compliment, and accepted it as one, regardless.
Her brother-in-law, clearly, remained unamused. “Your wife’s name is being dragged through the gutter alongside yours. Have you even read anything she wrote?”
“Yes, I have. Every word. And I fail to see what is so scandalous. These letters are private. They were meant for my eyes and my eyes alone. I refuse to see anything shameful about a wife writing to her husband, in language that happens to be more eloquent than anything her critics could ever dream of composing.” His voice turned hard.
“You want to know what is truly scandalous, Philip? That a woman who has given the reading public more pleasure than any author of this decade is being dragged through the mud for the crime of also loving her husband. That the same people who devoured her novels, who queued at circulating libraries and wept over her heroines, are now sharpening their knives because they have learned she is real, and married, and dared to write passionate words in private.” Sebastian drew a steadying breath.
“They will condemn her in the morning papers and read her books secretly in their closets. They are hypocrites, every last one of them, and I will not stand here and wring my hands over their good opinion.” He straightened.
“I will have that publishing house sued into oblivion. And if society wishes to make an enemy of me over this, then society will find I am a most inconvenient enemy to have.”
Viola pressed a hand to her collarbone. He had defended her as though she mattered to him. No. More than that.
Warmth flooded through her, and tears rushed to her eyes as she finally understood. He had spoken like a man defending the woman he loved.
He loved her.
Of course he did. But since when? For how long?
Why had she never seen it until now?
She took one, two steps into the room. “Sebastian.”
Both men looked up, startled to find her there.
Viola could no longer hold herself back. She rushed towards him and flung her arms around him. He caught her and held her tightly. “I just wanted to say—you’re wonderful!”
“I know,” Sebastian replied gruffly.
Poor Philip hardly knew where to look.
He cleared his throat, and something in his expression shifted; the stern set of his jaw softening into something almost sheepish.
“Lady Viola.” He stepped forward after Sebastian had released her. “At last. It is unfortunate that it has taken nearly a decade for us to meet. And now that we finally do, it is under such circumstances.” He kissed her hand in the most gentlemanly fashion, which brought a shy smile to her face.
“You shouldn’t be scolding Sebastian for what has happened. It’s all my fault.” She hesitated. “Or rather, the fault of Lord Lockwood.”
“Lockwood? How so?”
She explained about the accidental publication, the frantic attempts to halt it, the sheer impossibility of stopping a scandal once it had begun to roll. “I shall never forgive myself that Sebastian must bear the entire brunt.”
Sebastian made an impatient gesture. “We’ve discussed this. I see no need to rehash it. It is done.”
“So it is true you intend to withdraw from politics altogether. Your carefully cultivated career.” Philip made a slashing hand movement.
“That is the plan.”
His brother eyed him sympathetically. “You look like you need a rest. Maybe rusticating in the country for a while is exactly the thing before you decide what to do next.”
“Well, when it comes to that, that has been decided. We are in the family way.”
Philip, who had been frowning only a moment before, went utterly still. Then his face broke into a grin of unguarded delight.
“Sebastian. Viola.” He seized her hand again, gripping it warmly. “What wonderful news. I had given up all hope of you two ever reconciling. Uncle Atti and Henry will be overjoyed. Not to mention Charlotte, my wife.”
“I haven’t met Henry yet,” Viola said. Henry was the second brother, the one who had joined the Church.
“Then we must remedy that immediately. A family reunion here at Westwood Hall. Wives, children, everyone.” Philip was still holding her hand, his enthusiasm apparently boundless.
Sebastian reached over and calmly disengaged his brother’s grip on his wife. “Yes. But now let us proceed to the dining room, as I am fairly starving.”
Philip glanced over Sebastian’s dishevelled outfit and raised an eyebrow.
“While it is gratifying that you couldn’t even wait to dress yourself properly to greet me, I would rather have you sit fully clothed at the table.
Viola can entertain me in the meantime.” He tucked her hand through the curve of his arm with proprietary ease.
“Now, Mrs Sable. You must tell me all about your books. Charlotte reads them all the time.”
Philip stayed for three days. The brothers spent much of that time sequestered in the study, their voices occasionally rising through the walls in argument before dissolving into laughter.
Viola joined them for meals and concluded that they were very alike: Sebastian and Philip.
Perhaps because of that, she took an instant liking to her brother-in-law, a sentiment he clearly reciprocated.
Shortly before he left, he promised to do everything in his power to help rein in the scandal and pursue the publishing company.
“As for this Lockwood.” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you intend to do about him?”
Sebastian and Viola were walking him to the courtyard, where the carriage stood waiting. “He is, of course, dismissed,” Sebastian replied coolly.
“Is he?” Viola crossed her arms. “I was not aware of that.”
“The man has been exploiting you at every turn. He has been pocketing most of your royalties. And for what, exactly? For making a catastrophic mistake and causing a scandal. That alone is reason enough to send him packing.”
“That is fine, except he has been managing my affairs.” She drew her brows together. “Who is going to do that now?”
Sebastian’s lips curved into a smile. “Why, me, of course.”
Viola blinked. “You?”
Philip laughed. “Excellent notion. Next time we meet, you must tell me how that goes.” He saluted, swung himself into the coach, and was gone.
After the coach turned around the curve, whirling a cloud of fine dust in the air, Viola and Sebastian turned to each other.
“We need to talk,” they said to each other simultaneously.
“Sit here,” Sebastian told her, indicating the sofa. Viola sat, smoothing her skirt over her knees, watching him.
He paced before her, running a hand through his hair.