Page 5

Chapter Four

Sebastian

C ould it be? Was fortune finally beginning to smile upon Sebastian?

His interaction with Mrs. Lawrence could not have gone more swimmingly. Of course, she had declined his invitation to dance and Miss Grant had extended the one for him to call, but those distinctions mattered little.

He would have the opportunity to continue their acquaintance. That was the most important thing.

The rush of success, the blinding light of hope after the darkness that had followed his rejection by Miss Fernside, made his blood rush pleasantly.

Yorke, who had been in a long conversation with one of various members of Parliament present, came up beside him. “Well? Did you manage it?”

“I did,” Sebastian replied, unable to keep from smiling. “I am to call upon her tomorrow in Berkeley Square.”

Yorke raised his brows, visibly impressed. “You made quick work of that! How did you manage an introduction?”

“There was very little managing about it,” Sebastian said. “I was fortunate enough to see her drop something—a ring.”

“Did you really?” Yorke said incredulously.

Sebastian shot him a look. “Yes, Yorke. Do you suppose I stole it from her hand without her knowledge?” Finding a diamond ring was a windfall in and of itself, but he never truly considered keeping it, for Mrs. Lawrence’s gratitude was far more valuable to him than her ring.

“No, nothing like that.” Yorke smiled curiously. “It is only that my brother met his wife the same way. He dropped his signet ring, and she brought it to him.”

Sebastian considered this coincidence for a moment. “Well, let us hope for a similarly happy result in my case.”

Was there ever an ill that could not have been prevented—or cured—with money?

Sebastian defied anyone to claim otherwise.

Indeed, it was money—or the lack of it, rather—that had stopped his celebrations after the very welcome opening sentence of the letter from his solicitor.

Your petition to the Court of Chancery regarding the guardianship of Miss Margaret, Master Hugo, and Master Felix Hollis has been formally accepted for review.

Sebastian paced the worn wooden floors of his bedchamber in St. James’s, rubbing a hand over his chin while the words from the letter he held pinched in his chest. The news certainly merited celebration, but the phrase that followed it nipped it in the bud.

The Court has acknowledged your standing as their half-brother and has directed that notice be sent to their current guardian, Mr. Edward Hollis, who will be given due opportunity to respond .

As certain as he knew his own name, Sebastian knew Edward Hollis would fight a transfer of guardianship.

Hollis had no liking for his charges—indeed, he seemed to despise them as much as he had despised, in life, the brother who had fathered them—but the money he had access to as their guardian? His affection for that ran deep.

The question was which between the two of them had the greater claim to guardianship over the children: their half-brother or their uncle?

That was what the Court of Chancery would have to decide, and it was why a phrase farther down in the letter sent a chill through Sebastian.

You will be required to demonstrate your ability to provide adequately for the children—both financially and with respect to their moral and physical well-being.

Sebastian blew out a breath and set the letter down on his dressing table.

He could hardly provide for himself , much less three other bodies requiring food, clothing, and a roof over their heads, to say nothing of education or opportunity.

He opened the drawer of the dressing table and took out the letter he had received from Margaret two days ago.

At fourteen years of age and as the eldest of his half-siblings, she was his steady and trusted correspondent, though he suspected she tried to shield him from many of the deprivations they experienced.

Felix has become more defiant of late, she had written , going so far as to hide Mr. Hollis’s liquor bottles in the privy last week. Hugo insisted on taking the blame. He fancies himself our protector these days, you know, be he ever so slight of stature.

Sebastian’s knuckles tightened, wrinkling the paper at his fingertips.

Noticeably absent was the description of Hugo’s punishment.

Sebastian could only imagine what a drunkard like Hollis would have chosen as retribution.

The description of Hugo as “ever so slight of stature” was hardly confidence-inspiring, either.

No doubt, Hollis preferred to use whatever money he had on spirits rather than on nourishing his wards.

Sebastian folded the letter and placed it back in the drawer, along with the one from his solicitor. Circumstances were quickly growing more dire for his siblings. It was why Mrs. Lawrence’s appearance in his life was so very welcome.

All the letter from his solicitor and the letter from Margaret served to do was emphasize that his plan had to succeed.

His attempt with Miss Fernside had been not only amateur but highly damaging.

Though Haskett had blackballed him, he seemed to have declined to spread word of Sebastian’s crime against his niece far and wide.

There were whispers about the ton , however.

Sebastian would have to tread carefully.

Some thirty minutes later, he slipped a letter with Margaret’s name written across the front onto the salver on the entry hall table, then snatched his top hat from the rack near the door.

He had waited to respond to her until he could offer hope. Now that he could do so, he was reluctant to make too much of it. Hope could be a costly virtue. The lack of it could be equally so, however, so he had settled on informing her that he had a promising avenue he was pursuing.

What she would make of this was unclear, for he had been hopeful in the past, as well, even before Miss Fernside.

His attempts to make a living in the church had come to nothing, however.

Piety only paid when one had the connections to make it so, he had discovered. And Sebastian had no connections.

He made the walk to Berkeley Square with swift strides, slowing only to consider a bouquet of flowers at a shop en route. He decided against them, however. A more subtle approach was warranted until he had a better sense of what Mrs. Lawrence liked and disliked.

The beating of his heart outstripped the pace of his feet, thrumming with building nerves as he approached her residence, a distinguished townhouse in a location that spoke to her wealth.

He ascended the three steps, reached for the knocker, then paused.

Was this madness, what he was doing? Or worse, was it callous? Mrs. Lawrence seemed an intelligent and amiable woman, not someone deserving to be duped. But the sort of woman who did deserve such a thing was not the type of woman he wished to be tied to for the rest of his life.

It was a conundrum indeed.

He stared at his hovering, indecisive hand. If he did not pursue Mrs. Lawrence, what of Margaret, Hugo, and Felix?

His gaze moved to the knocker, waiting for his grasp. It was shaped like a lion, the bronze glinting in the morning sun. The door behind it was red—freshly painted, it appeared—while the surrounding creamy stone was devoid of any dirt or grime.

All of it spoke to the good fortune of the woman who lived within.

His siblings had done nothing to deserve their mis fortune; what had Mrs. Lawrence done to deserve her good fortune?

She had married someone with money. That was all.

Was that not precisely what Sebastian intended to do? It was not as though he meant to take the money from her, either. He simply needed to prove to the Court of Chancery that he was a fit guardian.

“This is for Margaret, Hugo, and Felix,” he whispered, then he grasped the knocker and gave a decisive knock.

Contrary to his fears, he was not refused admittance, neither was he told the ladies were not at home to visitors.

He was instead led through a fine entry hall with a carpeted staircase that wound around the walls to an upper floor.

The walls were wainscoted below, then papered above, and the wide door carved intricately.

Sebastian could only imagine what Mrs. Lawrence’s country estate must look like. Perhaps she had more than one .

He was left to wait beside the wide door while the footman announced him.

“Mr. Sebastian Drake,” the footman announced, then he made way for Sebastian to enter the sitting room.

Mrs. Lawrence and Miss Grant rose to their feet in front of a long, champagne-colored settee with dusky blue pillows that matched the curtains at the long windows.

Though Sebastian’s eyes insisted on settling upon Mrs. Lawrence, he forced them to spend an equal amount of time on Miss Grant before smiling and bowing. “I am glad to find you at home to visitors.”

“Did I not tell you we would be?” Mrs. Lawrence asked with a hint of amusement.

“I am ashamed for doubting you, but I can only imagine the number of invitations the two of you must receive every day. I would not have blamed you if you had chosen to indulge in one of them rather than staying at home for my call.”

“Selina loves nothing more than being at home,” Miss Grant said.

Mrs. Lawrence laughed, but her cheeks tinged with pink. “ Nothing might be a bit of an overstatement. And now that you are here, Phoebe, I have changed my ways.” She gestured to the chair across from them. “Do have a seat, Mr. Drake. Would you care for tea?”

“Thank you,” he said as he sat down, “but I shan’t stay long.”

He had decided in advance that he would keep his visit short, hopefully leaving them wanting more rather than overstaying his welcome. His main aim today was to ensure he did not leave without a plan to see Mrs. Lawrence again.