Chapter Four
Sebastian had never felt more confused or more curious about a woman than he did the night of the Wallingford Ball.
When he had first seen her in the ballroom that evening, he’d hardly known what to make of her. Were it not for her distinct raven hair curled into ringlets that fell against her round face, he might never have been able to identify little Piglet.
He’d known of Augusta Browning his whole life, although their personal interactions had always been limited. She had merely been Browning’s little sister.
Browning himself had always been a sensible chap, though he had gone through some struggles after Oxford, having gotten himself wrapped up in opiates for a few years before returning to his usual, sober self.
From what Sebastian could recall, he’d only spoken lovingly of his younger sister. Even called her ‘uncannily witty’ once.
It had been hard, at the time, to think of Piglet as being ‘uncannily witty.’
Looking at her that night, his reluctance to pursue her had thoroughly faded.
He suddenly could not think of what it was that made Miss Browning unlucky on the marriage market.
She was educated, as her brother had insinuated previously, and she was not without some social graces nowadays.
Her appearance was, at times, a bit dour and serious, but not so much as to completely discredit her as a companion.
Besides, the woman had grown into her weight, which had turned into soft curves that were more lush than most, and a round face that kept its youth easily.
This beauty surprised Sebastian more than her other qualities.
She was the last person he would have expected to turn out with anything resembling attractiveness.
Tonight, she’d worn a dark green gown with a neckline that tapered into a deep V shape.
His eyes had lingered on it just long enough to render him intrigued.
She’d been perfectly pleasant on the dance floor, though quite stiff. He hadn’t blamed her much; he had clearly approached her when she’d least expected it. Then the song had ended, and she’d disappeared, and he’d been left trying to understand what their conversation had meant for him.
Even after dancing with Miss Haversham, Miss Langford, and Miss Grayson - all of whom had been on Bancroft’s list - he’d found himself unable to shake the unsettled feeling.
Now, he lounged on the benches beside the garden doors, which sat down a lonely hallway. But he hadn’t been there long when he heard a familiar voice.
“Being a bit of a wallflower, are we?” came Bancroft’s playful tone. He plopped down on the bench next to Sebastian. His unsteady posture told Sebastian that his friend was also a few drinks deep.
“Only for a moment,” Sebastian said, turning to his friend. “I shall rejoin the mob soon enough. I fear the mamas might eat me alive if I do not.”
Bancroft gave a hearty laugh. “Ah, yes, the mamas. The shadowy figures in all of my nightmares.”
“It is not so bad as all that,” Sebastian said, though he only partly meant it. The truth was that he had almost perfected his turns about the room at these events. He ate, he drank, he danced, and then he went home, and everyone thought him amiable.
The only diversion from this routine tonight had been his dances with the young ladies.
Most importantly, his dance with Miss Browning.
Her reticence, her overly polite way of speech, the way she’d run off at the very end - all of it had only confused him.
He felt as though he’d spent the entire dance talking to a wall, for all the information he’d managed to gather on her.
“I saw you dancing with the ladies of the list,” Bancroft said. “Any of them strike you, by chance?”
Sebastian sighed. “Miss Haversham spoke the entire time of how much she desired to become a nun. Miss Langford stated that she hated children, and would ship hers off to school at the first opportunity. And Miss Grayson spent the whole dance staring at Lord Wickford.”
His first dance of the evening still sat heavy on his mind.
“What do you know of Miss Browning?” he asked Bancroft.
The man’s brow raised in surprise at his question, before understanding dawned in his eyes. “Ah, so you’ve chosen Piglet for the hunt.”
Sebastian ignored his crassness. “Why do you think she never married?”
Bancroft looked at him with amusement. “You’re asking if she’s heinous? Have you heard the phrase about beggars being choosers?”
Something in his tone made Sebastian bristle. “I may be a beggar, but if I am stuck looking for a bargain, then I aim to find the best one. Surely life does not have to be miserable with my future wife, even if money is the aim.”
Bancroft scoffed. “I mean…she’s Piglet. She never smiles, she lingers near Miss Greene incessantly, and from my understanding she keeps to herself. That last trait is most ideal in a woman, if you ask me.”
He left it at that, as though such sparse details would do Sebastian any good.
After a long moment of suffering Sebastian’s glare, he sighed.
“Look, you asked me for a list of ladies who had large dowries. I provided as much. The finer details you will have to find for yourself. If in doubt, simply ask Browning.”
Sebastian wanted to roll his eyes at the very idea, but something stopped him.
If he did pursue Miss Browning, then surely her brother would be privy to it immediately, and would know precisely what Sebastian intended.
As such, there was little use in beating about the bush with his friend.
Perhaps an alliance between them would better serve the whole endeavor.
“At worst, you may find her to be a bit dour for your tastes,” Bancroft interjected. “But I find that financial security has a way of changing tastes.”
Sebastian sighed. “I suppose I could handle it if she was a bit of a sad creature.” A funny image appeared in Sebastian’s mind, and he snorted at it. “A sad Piglet.”
They laughed greatly at that, and Bancroft made an oinking sound, which set them off even further. For a moment, Sebastian felt that his circumstances were not so dire as he had made them out to be.
“Well,” Bancroft eventually conceded, “You will never find out more about her from here. Go and find Browning. Lay out your little scheme. I am sure he will gladly hand Piglet over to you.”
His friend was correct. If there was one thing Sebastian did not have, it was time. Standing up, he turned back to Bancroft. “Alright. But if she does become my wife, we have to stop calling her Piglet.”
“Well, of course. It’s not like any of us ever called her that in front of Browning. We will stop saying it to you, as well.”
With his friends, that was the most that Sebastian could hope for. It was, of course, all in good fun anyways.
*****
Sebastian felt like a complete cad when he arrived the next day to Browning’s townhome.
He had spent the better part of the evening prior attempting to figure out how to explain to his friend that he wanted to marry his little sister - not for love, but for his friend’s money.
It had been nearly three in the morning when he’d realized that there was no respectable way of phrasing it.
If Browning gave his blessing, then Sebastian had no doubts that the rest of the plan would go accordingly. If he could make a more thorough assessment of Miss Browning’s character and found her acceptable, then a swift marriage was almost guaranteed.
He was still young, not bad looking, with a reputation for being intelligent and easy to talk to. Surely he could woo a girl with so few prospects, and do it quickly, then turn her dowry into something that could actually sustain them. He knew friends in trade, others in banking. He could invest.
In the meantime, he could quietly sell off the least obvious estates here in the city to pay off the egregious debts. That would stave off gossip for a time.
But God, did it all just reek of impropriety. He was no saint, but even he had limits. Marrying for a dowry…he’d never thought he’d see himself stoop so low.
Then, he pictured his sister, and his mother, and the home in Derbyshire, and it all became just a bit more palatable. So when Browning called him into his study, Sebastian decided that open honesty would be the only practical move.
“I know we haven’t gotten to speak much since the other evening,” his friend said amiably as he handed him a glass of amber liquid. Turning somewhat more serious, he added, “I did not get to say it then, but I was sorry to hear about your father.”
“I think we both know that you were not sorry at all.”
Browning grimaced before taking a long drink. “You are correct, the old man is better in the ground, but there are certain things we are supposed to say after one dies, isn’t there?”
“Consider yourself absolved from such statements.” If there was one thing that Sebastian did not need right now, it was kind words about the late viscount who had put him in this most awkward position.
“Alright then, we shall move on to more pressing matters.” Leaning back against his desk, Browning set down his glass and crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you playing at with Auggie?”
Sebastian’s head snapped up. “How did you know?”
Browning gave a caustic laugh. “How did I know? No one has danced with Auggie all season. Of course word would get back to me when one of my best friends took her out for a waltz.” He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Therefore, I ask you again: what are you playing at?”
‘Playing at.’ The words made Sebastian feel like a con man in the marketplace, selling tricks and lies.
Which was why, in due course, he let out a sigh and ran straight into the truth.
“You know precisely what I am playing at.”
His friend’s face did not give way to sympathy. “There are other ladies with dowries as large as hers. Why Auggie?”
“Look, Browning, I am not running into a proposal with her. But you know my situation, and why I must marry. I merely want to ensure that I am looking at all of my options. I should think that you, her keeper, would be happy to know that there is still interest in her.”
The last bit was a tad manipulative, he knew, but it was also true.
It was only then that Browning’s expression softened somewhat. “Of course I understand your situation. And yes, if I am being honest, it was nice to hear that she’d peeled herself away from the wall last night. But…Brightwater, there are things you do not know about my sister.”
This piqued Sebastian’s interest. If there were any fault in Miss Browning, he’d been completely unable to see it last night. She’d been the picture of primness, albeit closed off and cold.
“Like what?” he asked.
Browning looked down at his drink. “I would not speak of her private matters to anyone who did not intend for her. But you are my friend, and I do not wish you to get involved without knowing that there is a great deal beneath the surface with Auggie. You would not simply be able to take the money and live a carefree life.”
Now came the most difficult part. “And how much money would that be, if I may be so bold?”
Browning’s jaw tightened. “Sixty thousand pounds.”
The number nearly knocked Sebastian off his feet. “Sixty thousand?”
Browning only nodded while Sebastian’s mind continued to spin.
“I have great sympathy for you. I truly do. I cannot imagine the stress you are under. And yes, I want to see my sister married before her final season. But I will not have her simply sold off. If you truly chose her over your other options, then she would have to be the one to give the final say. You understand?”
Sebastian nodded, feeling greatly as though he had neither received a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ from his friend. “If I called on her tomorrow, would you admit me?”
Browning laughed. “I would never turn you away.” He took another long drink, then let out a sigh. “Auggie, however, may be a different story.”