Chapter 5
Five
“And look who has finally chosen to grace us with his presence,” Cassian, the Duke of (Blackmoor?), jeered the moment Sebastian wandered into the den. “We were concerned for you, Eastmoor. I do not think I have ever seen Ravencourt so worried.”
Sitting beside Cassian was Alaric, the Duke of Ravencourt, and he scoffed with derision. “More curious. It’s not like you to be late.”
“I wasn’t surprised.” The third man seated was named Ronan, the Duke of Westmere.
He had a full tankard of ale before him, and he chugged it and then wiped the foam from his scarred chin.
“As I guessed, you arrived twenty minutes ago, likely waiting outside because we all know you take joy from the theatrics.”
Sebastian offered his friends a courteous smile as he walked across the empty tavern, indicating as he did to the barkeep to bring him a tankard of his own.
“I had forgotten how much you each relied on me,” he said then as he sat himself down at the table.
“The weight of expectation, borne from being the glue that holds this little group together.”
“Ha!” Cassian cried. “Is that what you think of yourself? Very rich.”
“If I hadn’t before, I do now,” Sebastian said with a coy smirk. “Who knew that being twenty minutes late would cause such an uproar?”
“It was more your rudeness that upset us,” Alaric noted. “Although why we’re surprised by this point…”
“How many times can a dog bite its master’s hand before you stop blaming the dog?” Ronan grumbled. “And wipe that smirk off your face,” he then snapped at Sebastian. “Arrogant whelp.”
If anyone were to stumble upon this little gathering of men, they would be hard pressed to anoint them as friends, which technically they were not, even if the terminology was used by each of them, more for convenience than anything else.
What they were were companions and peers, brought together in this way for the simple reason that there was nobody else in the ton who might be willing to find themselves in their presence. At least not by choice.
Each man was a duke, and therefore an equal…
although Sebastian had always seen himself as the main force that led them.
After all, he was the one who had founded what was now dubbed the Wicked Duke’s Society, bringing these men together where no one else might have been able.
Years ago it was, and since then, having turned it into a tradition that would see them meet in this way every few weeks to discuss their lives and complain, as was the most common form of conversation.
Even their meeting location, a tavern in London, had been rented out so that it was just the four of them. A more exclusive club does not exist in the country, albeit not the type of club most would wish to find themselves a member of.
“Come on then,” Alaric sighed as he took a swig of ale.
“What kept you? Or would you rather make us beg?” Alaric was the most respected of the four men, the wealthiest, the most levelheaded, and easiest to get along with.
And since his recent marriage, he had transformed into a man who some would dare to call friendly.
“Beg, you say?” Sebastian’s tankard of ale landed before him, and he scooped it up, raising his eyebrows at the three men as he took a long sip. “I don’t mind the sound of that.”
“How about we pull out a few fingernails,” Ronan grumbled.
“See who it is that does the begging.” Ronan was an old war hero, his face scarred horribly from his time on the front, and with a sullen mood to match.
Constantly grumpy. A dark sense of humor.
He was not the type one would wish to find themselves alone in a dark alley with.
“Good idea,” Cassian chortled. “I’ll hold him down – did anyone think to bring a pair of pliers?
” Cassian was perhaps the most dangerous of them all.
Devilishly handsome, too charming for his own good, he had a way about him that made people fawn for his attention and brighten when they got it.
The thing was, Cassian was a cold, calculating sociopath – at least that is how I have always viewed him – and everything he did and said was for show and purpose. His own purpose, that was.
“Yes, yes, very droll,” Sebastian said with a sneer. “But I rather like my fingernails where they are, thank you very much.”
“If that’s the case, start talking,” Cassian said as if he truly meant to go through with the threat. “Lest Ronan here turns a grump.”
“When is he ever not?” Alaric chuckled.
“Yes, yes, pick on me then,” Ronan sneered over his tankard. “Just remember who it is that you’re picking on. I don’t forget.”
“Unless it’s to shower,” Cassian hooted. “Honestly, Ronan, when you skulked in here, I thought I imagined the trail of rats following you. Don’t tell me… friends of yours?”
“Nah,” Ronan said. “Just some of your old girlfriends, Cassian.”
“More like Sebastian’s,” Alaric joined in, laughing along with Ronan. “Not that he’d remember them.”
“Not from their faces,” Cassian added, to which all the men howled.
Sebastian joined in on their laughter, expecting it now, for his personal life was a constant cause of mockery among the three men.
Of the four, he was the known philander and rake, and most often these little meetings were spent detailing his latest conquests for them to judge him on.
Ronan never had much time for women. Alaric was now married and supposedly in love.
And Cassian… he could act as I do, for he is charming and attractive enough.
But the only person Cassian has ever cared about is himself.
“So?” Alaric eventually pulled the men out of their humor. “Where have you been? And do not dare lie,” he made sure to add with a knowing look. “I can tell that there is a good reason for your tardiness.”
“Perhaps I slept in?” Sebastian shrugged. “The natural consequence of having a late night with a woman whose name I don’t remember, nor do I care to.”
“Oh…” Alaric smirked, and Sebastian’s stomach dropped as he understood the meaning. “So, these rumors about you and Miss Harcourt are unfounded, then? No truth to them.”
Ronan laughed darkly. “See how he squirms. He’s either sat himself on a nest of ants or for once rumors are true.”
“What…” Sebastian swallowed. “What have you heard?”
“Everything,” Cassian said with a wicked grin. “So, you can either tell us the truth about it, or we can simply guess. Be warned, I don’t think you’ll enjoy the conclusions we come to if left to it.”
Alaric chuckled. “I doubt the truth would suit him much better.”
Sebastian groaned to realize the trap that he’d walked into.
The reason he was late was on account of his trying to decide whether he would attend today’s meeting or not.
A near thing, as I very nearly said to hell with it and stayed home.
The only reason I didn’t was that the thought of leaving these three to gossip among themselves would be a recipe for disaster that I would surely pay for.
It was just yesterday when Miss Harcourt appeared at his home unannounced and declared her wish to marry him.
A true shock it had been, because when Sebastian had made her the offer, he’d immediately regretted it, comfort found when she had turned him down.
Only for her to come to him the next day…
again, he was supposed to deny her, but found himself unable for reasons he did not like to think about.
Alas, he was committed to the marriage now and would indeed go through with it. And where he knew that it was for the best, something he had to do for obvious reasons, he could not escape the feeling that he’d made a terrible mistake.
“The whole thing was a true catastrophe,” Sebastian sighed and shook his head. “And I have myself to blame as much as anything.”
“Well, that’s not a surprise,” Cassian chortled.
“Through no fault of my own, I found myself alone with Miss Harcourt – and before you say anything, it was not as you think.” He looked warningly at his friends. “It was an accident, for I was a little drunk and looking for the washroom.”
Cassian snorted. “If that is the lie you wish to tell yourself.”
“The point is,” Sebastian emphasized. “Miss Harcourt is clumsier than a baby deer, and she tripped and fell. I caught her, found the woman in my arms, and the next thing I knew Lady Weatherstone was accusing the two of us of…” He could not help but chuckle. “I am sure you can figure that part out.”
“Lady Weatherstone…” Alaric’s lip curled. “She gossips like the wind blows.”
“A fact I know too well,” Sebastian sighed. “No need to say that Miss Harcourt was aggrieved and terrified of what this would mean – you all know her history, I assume?”
Ronan scoffed. “Didn’t she trick some young count into proposing to her? Tried to steal his fortune?”
“I heard she threatened to spread a rumor that he had bedded her without consent, lest he marry her,” Cassian added.
“Whatever the truth, the point remains that she was at breaking point,” Sebastian took hold of the conversation once again. “And, seeing a young damsel in distress, I did the honorable thing and suggested that we marry.”
“The honorable thing!” Cassian cried with laughter. “That would be a first!”
“And she said yes?” Alaric asked curiously, his brow furrowed as he studied Sebastian closely.
“She did… in a fashion,” he laughed. “That’s not to say that she was pleased, but she saw the value and realized it was the best option presented to her. A chance to save herself from scandal, while ensuring that her life not be ruined.”
“And what do you get out of it?” Ronan asked sharply. “Apart from another maiden to bed.”
“That is not what this is about,” Sebastian snapped.
Ronan scoffed. “You lie as most men breathe.”
“I am not trying to bed her!” He glared at the three men. “The truth is, when Lady Weatherstone found us and began squawking like a chicken having its feathers plucked, I was taken by a moment of clarity. It was not the first scandalous situation I have been found in.”
“There is an understatement,” Alaric pointed out.
“And if I am not careful, the time might come when I am unable to recover,” Sebastian spoke over Alaric and the laughter of the two other men.
“The simple fact is that I am a duke, and as you each know, things are expected of us. I was going to have to find myself a bride sooner or later, so why not now?” He shrugged.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“And does it still look that way?” Alaric asked.
“It does not matter,” Sebastian said. “For once in my life, I opted to do the right thing – which you, Alaric, should be singing my praises for. Miss Harcourt was in need of protection –”
“And you were in need of someone to keep your bed warm come winter,” Cassian jumped in.
“It is not like that,” Sebastian snarled at Cassian. “Our marriage is to be one of convenience only. A signed piece of paper and nothing more. I have no intent to bed Miss Harcourt, and as surprising as it might sound to you all, she has no intent on bedding me.”
“What is it like?” Cassian asked with a rueful smirk. “To be possessed of an ego so large? It must weigh on you.”
“Oh, noble knight,” Ronan joined in. “If only there were more men like you.”
“Easy now,” Alaric said to the two men. “Let us not clamor to drag down our friend here. Personally, I see this as a good thing.” He winked. “I speak from experience when I say that a wife by one’s side is nowhere near the headache it might seem. Who knows, she might be good for you.”
“Oh, save it for the bedroom,” Cassian waved him down. “You are not Sebastian, Alaric. And where your marriage turned out decently enough, I suppose, there is more chance of the sun replacing the moon than Sebastian here finding himself in a marriage that is anything short of calamitous.”
“I sense a bet coming on,” Ronan said.
“Oh!” Cassian’s eyes brightened. “What shall we bet on? How long does it take Sebastian to sleep with his wife? Or perhaps how long it takes until she smothers him with her pillow?”
“What if they both happen on the same night?” Ronan pointed out. “Who wins then?”
Sebastian slunk back into his chair as the three men descended into a conversation that revolved mostly around mocking Sebastian.
Let them have their fun, let them deride, let them banter.
It is not as if anything I say will dissuade their opinions of me.
Just as nothing I say can convince them of the truth.
But what was the truth? If only Sebastian knew.
He had not been lying when he’d told the three men why he had offered Miss Harcourt a marriage.
Indeed, the poor thing was desperate, and marrying Sebastian would save her.
Also, as a duke, he had known that he’d one day need to be married, so the timing seemed too perfect a thing to ignore.
And what was more, this had nothing to do with trying to sleep with her.
It was an easy enough line to repeat, but whenever he tried to swallow it whole, he found himself gagging.
Frustratingly, there was also a part of Sebastian that could not help but wonder what it might be like to take Miss Harcourt to his bed.
With her golden-brown hair, elegant features, and soft skin, she was undoubtedly a beauty.
And her curvaceous body made her a creature of desire that ordinarily Sebastian would covet.
Still, he remembered the feel of her in his arms, how her body had quivered at his touch, and the look in her eyes as he had held her… she wanted me too. I know that she did.
That was why he had agreed to the marriage when she had come to see him yesterday.
She had tripped, he had caught her, and for a moment, he had been unable to think of anything else but bedding her.
Alas, he also knew that he could not do such a thing – that he would not do such a thing, because he needed this marriage to be one of convenience only. Simplicity demanded it.
And yet… always, his mind wandered. He fought it.
He tried to ignore it. But he was attracted to his bride-to-be, just as he knew she was attracted to him.
It is going to make for a difficult marriage.
Of that, there is no doubt. Then again, when was married life ever meant to be simple?
Another reason was that Sebastian had never wanted such a thing.