Chapter Eleven
Sebastian rose at dawn that morning, wanting to get some of his tasks done early so that he could do as Hale asked and keep an eye on Rose during the day.
According to Hale, the gentlemen houseguests were leaving after breakfast for a shooting party, so he did not expect Rose to confront any trouble later that day.
But White could cause trouble before they left.
After a quick meal of a biscuit he’d stuck in his pocket from dinner the night before and a cupful of cold water from the well, he headed out to work. The rest of the gardeners were only just stirring, dressing, and grousing, but he paid them no mind. His mission today was to keep watch over Rose.
Dew had dampened the tips of his boots by the time he reached the rose garden. He turned a corner but stopped. Voices were coming from behind the trellis. A soft, feminine voice that could only be Rose’s, followed by a gruff, masculine one.
He leapt to action, running around the row of manicured shrubs and into the rose garden. There, trapped in front of the swing, was Rose. A barrel-chested man in a fine coat stood before her, his back to Sebastian. Thick black hair. Rotund.
White.
“Baron White, please, just leave me alone. Please. I’ve just come to read.”
Why was he here and not with the other men?
“We’ll be man and wife soon enough. Give me a little kiss before I head out to the shooting party.” White pressed ever closer to Rose.
She pushed at him with her hands, but her small frame was no use against the brute. “Leave me alone.”
“But I’ve gone to so much trouble, getting up before daybreak to follow you out here. Away from prying eyes.” His voice carried the rough edges of a man used to getting his way through intimidation rather than charm.
“I said no.”
His laugh was coarse, dismissive. “You’ll learn to mind your tongue once we’re wed, girl. I have no patience for disobedience.”
Sebastian stepped forward, his heart hammering. “Sir, you need to step away from the lady.”
White barely glanced over his shoulder. “Bugger off, boy. This is none of your concern.”
“Lady Rose appears distressed,” Sebastian said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Perhaps you should—”
“Perhaps I should what?” White wheeled around fully now, his broad face flushed with annoyance. “Take orders from some grubby gardener? I don’t think so.” He looked Sebastian up and down with obvious contempt. “You forget your place.”
Sebastian’s jaw clenched. Behind White, he could see Rose gripping the swing’s rope, her knuckles white. He made eye contact, and tilted his head toward the house. She got the hint and tore out of the garden without a backward glance. “My place is to ensure the safety of Lady Rose.”
“Your place is to trim hedges and keep your mouth shut.” White took a step toward him, his barrel chest leading. “Unless you’d like to find yourself without employment. Or worse.”
The casual threat sent a spike of anger through Sebastian’s chest. He’d dealt with bullies before—men who thought their position gave them the right to abuse others. “I’m humbly asking you to leave Lady Rose alone.”
“Are you now?” White’s smile was more a grimace, as if he had need of a chamber pot. “Well, what you’d like matters about as much as what she’d prefer. Which is to say, not at all.”
That did it. Sebastian moved forward, but White was ready for him—the older man might be soft around the middle, but he was clearly strong.
But he was not expecting Sebastian’s speed.
Years of physical labor had made Sebastian quick and wiry, and he managed to grab White by the lapels and shove him backward against the trellis.
“I said leave her alone,” Sebastian growled.
White’s eyes flashed with genuine anger now. “You stupid boy. Do you have any idea who you’re laying hands on?” He tried to push Sebastian off, but couldn’t get the leverage. “I’ll have you flogged. I’ll have you transported.”
Sebastian’s grip tightened. The rage that had been building since he’d heard Rose’s frightened voice was making his vision blur around the edges. Almost without thinking, his hand went to his tool belt, fingers closing around his gardening shears.
“Let go of me!” White said.
“Not until you give me your word you’ll stay away from her.”
“My word?” White laughed harshly. “You think I owe you anything, you worthless—”
The shears were in Sebastian’s hand now, the metal warm from his palm. He held them up where White could see them, and the older man’s words died in his throat.
“You are mad,” White breathed.
Sebastian’s heart was pounding so hard he could barely think straight.
What was he doing? This was insanity. He would pay for this, one way or another.
However, the image of Rose cowering, of this brute putting his hands on her, spurred him forward.
“You keep your hands off her,” he said through gritted teeth.
White’s gaze darted between Sebastian’s face and the shears. For a moment, Sebastian thought he might call his bluff—and then what? What would he do then?
“You’re out of your bloody mind,” White said, but there was something different in his voice now. Uncertainty.
“Maybe I am.” Sebastian surprised himself with how steady he sounded. “Maybe that’s what happens when you watch monsters like you prey on innocent women.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting into, boy.” White’s voice dropped lower. “This isn’t some tavern brawl. There are people involved here who’d gut you for looking at them sideways.”
Something in his tone made Sebastian pause. Not fear, exactly, but wariness. As if White wasn’t just talking about his own connections.
“What people?” Sebastian asked.
White’s eyes narrowed. “What’s it to you?”
Sebastian’s mind raced. He was in too deep now to back down, but he was clearly missing something important. White’s fear seemed focused on something beyond just Sebastian’s threats. “Maybe it matters more than you think.”
“Does it?” White studied his face more carefully. “Who sent you here?”
The question caught Sebastian off guard. “What?”
“Don’t play stupid with me. Nobody just happens to end up working at Wentworth’s estate.” White’s voice grew more suspicious. “Especially not someone who knows enough to ask about my business associates.”
Sebastian’s pulse quickened. He was walking a tightrope now, and one wrong word would send him tumbling. But White’s assumption might be his only chance. “What makes you think someone sent me?”
“Because that’s how this game works, you fool.” White’s fear was giving way to calculation. “The question is whether you’re working for Talbot or someone else entirely.”
Talbot. Sebastian filed the name away, trying not to let his relief show. “And what if I am?”
“Then you’re a long way from home,” White said grimly. “And Wentworth’s going to want to know why Talbot’s sniffing around his territory.”
Sebastian forced himself to hold White’s stare. “Maybe Wentworth should be more worried about why his territory is worth sniffing around.”
It was a guess, but it seemed to land. White’s face darkened. “We had an agreement.”
“Agreements change.” Sebastian was making it up as he went along, praying his ignorance wouldn’t show. “Especially when one party starts getting ambitious.”
“I don’t know what Talbot’s told you, but we’ve stuck to our side of things.”
“Have you?” Sebastian tightened his grip on the shears, using White’s assumption to buy himself time to think. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re expanding your operations. Taking on new responsibilities.”
White’s gaze flicked toward the house, and Sebastian realized he was thinking about Rose. About the marriage arrangement.
“That’s business,” White said carefully. “Personal business. Nothing to do with our other arrangements.”
“Everything’s connected,” Sebastian said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “You know that.”
For a long moment, they stared at each other. Sebastian could feel sweat gathering between his shoulder blades despite the cool morning air. If White called his bluff now, he was doomed.
“What does Talbot want?” White asked finally.
Sebastian’s mind raced. What would someone like Talbot want? Territory? Money? Revenge? “What do you think he wants?”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“I’m not playing anything.” Sebastian let some genuine anger creep into his voice. “I’m here to make sure certain lines don’t get crossed. And what I just witnessed.” He gestured toward where Rose had been standing. “That was crossing a line.”
White’s expression shifted, confusion mixing with wariness. “What’s the girl got to do with Talbot?”
Sebastian realized he’d made a mistake. He was supposed to be here about the smuggling business, not protecting Rose. Think. Think. “She’s connected to this estate. This estate is connected to your operations. Everything’s connected, like I said.”
It was thin, but White seemed to accept it. “So what now?”
“Now you keep your hands off her. And you tell Wentworth that his guest workers are watching.” Sebastian stepped back, lowering the shears but not putting them away. “Any problems with that arrangement?”
White straightened his coat, his face a mask of barely controlled fury. “You tell Talbot he’s playing a dangerous game. Wentworth’s not going to stand for this interference.”
“Then maybe Wentworth should have thought of that before he started expanding his business into territories that don’t belong to him.”
White’s jaw worked silently for a moment. Finally, he gave a curt nod. “We’ll see how long your employer’s protection lasts, boy.”
He turned and stalked away, moving with the stiff dignity of a man who’d been humiliated but wasn’t ready to admit it.
Sebastian watched him go, his hands shaking now that the confrontation was over. What the hell had he just done? He’d threatened a baron, impersonated some criminal named Talbot, and somehow convinced a smuggler that he was a spy.