Page 15

Sebastian woke to the gray dawn coming through the porthole and Wesley’s whisper in his ear.

“I’m sneaking back to my room to dress and then breakfasting in the verandah. Take some of that powder and drink a lot of water when you wake. Trust me.”

He heard the stateroom door ease open, then close. Sebastian’s head was thick and achy already, but he buried his face under the pillow and closed his eyes again anyway, body languid from Wesley’s lingering warmth.

He woke a fuzzy amount of time later to a cold bed and a throbbing head. With a groan, he rolled over. Why had he ever thought outdrinking Wesley was a good idea?

It was only the thought of hot coffee that finally got him to leave the bed.

He took Wesley’s advice and swallowed the last of the doctor’s powder with three glasses of water.

He might have felt like a hungover reprobate, but he did need to appear to be a count’s son, so he pulled on a three-piece suit, smoothed his hair, grabbed a hat, and went to find coffee.

The verandah on A-deck was a bright winter garden, with ample greenery against white wicker furniture. Wesley was already at a table, his gaze on the large windows that framed the promenade and then the open sea beyond.

The large windows letting in lots and lots of light.

Sebastian squinted as he approached. “Good morning, Lord Fine.”

Wesley glanced his way, gaze flicking from Sebastian’s tie, which was snug in his collar, not loose as he preferred, then to his hat, which he’d pulled as low over his eyes as he could get away with.

A tiny smile flitted across Wesley’s face.

“Don Sebastian,” he said innocently. “I suspect you’d like some coffee. ”

“Please.”

Wesley signaled for a waiter, and in short order Sebastian had a china cup of coffee that was weaker than he preferred, but sweet and milky, at least. Manners could wait; he drank half of it in one long sip. “I’m surprised you picked here for breakfast.”

“Because it’s bright and cheerful with beautiful views, and you’re more likely to find me haunting dark, windowless spaces full of smoke?” Wesley said wryly. “You’re not wrong. I’m watching for Lady Nora. She seems like the type for a brisk morning stroll.”

Wesley ordered tea and a full breakfast, while Sebastian drank a second cup of coffee and managed to stomach some toast. He was contemplating whether to try some melon when Wesley cleared his throat.

“There.”

Passing by the stern windows on the promenade was Lady Nora, dressed in an overcoat with a cloche hat. “She seems to be alone right now.” Sebastian watched her for a moment. “Should we approach her?”

“I say yes.” Wesley was getting to his feet. “She and I have met, after all. There’s no reason I shouldn’t stroll on up and say hello, and introduce my exceedingly sexy and intriguing Spanish friend.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes but followed Wesley across the tiled garden and out onto the promenade. They picked a spot to lean against the railing, as if watching the sea. As Lady Nora came down the ship’s starboard side, Wesley stepped into her path.

“Lady Nora?” he said, in an affected society tone Sebastian wasn’t used to. “By Jove, it is you. I thought I saw you last night.”

He held out a hand.

Lady Nora stopped her walk in surprise. A small furrow appeared between her brows, then smoothed away in recognition. “Lord Fine.” She took his hand. “My word. What a surprise.”

“Is it?” Wesley said smoothly, and really, that was the question, wasn’t it? “Last I heard, your itinerary was the Mediterranean. What brought you to America?”

“I’ve been in Canada, actually, visiting one of my sisters.” Nora’s gaze had gone to Sebastian and was lingering.

“Forgive me, I haven’t introduced my friend,” Wesley said. “Don Sebastian’s father is the nineteenth Count of Animales. And this is Lady Nora,” he continued. “Her father was the late Duke of Valemount.”

“Enchanted to meet you—is that the English expression?” Sebastian said.

“It certainly is.” Lady Nora’s eyes were still on Sebastian as she let him take her hand. “Spanish, then?”

“Yes, he’s kindly indulging me in a visit to London,” Wesley said. “But where’s your companion? I thought I saw you with someone last night.”

“Oh.” Lady Nora’s expression went instantly vacant. “Perhaps you mean Dr. Wright?”

She was traveling with a doctor? Was she sick? “I hope everything is all right,” Sebastian said, before he’d meant to.

“Thank you for your concern, but I haven’t taken ill,” she said wryly. “Dr. Wright is a doctor of nerves, and Uncle Louis has been snookered into believing that a woman who likes to travel alone must need one. Do you know my uncle well, Lord Fine?”

That wasn’t much of answer, and she’d changed the subject back to Wesley. Had her companion actually been sent by the duke himself to accompany her, then?

“Well enough, I’d say,” Wesley answered. “We’re in a club together.”

“I know the one,” Lady Nora said, her face still unreadable. “I heard Lord Thornton is throwing quite the ball for all of you on Friday, isn’t he? Uncle Louis unsurprisingly asked me to attend as well.”

She didn’t seem particularly thrilled at the idea. “I’m sure any party would be lucky to have you,” Sebastian said.

Lady Nora’s gaze flitted to him, slightly thawed.

“And you’ll come too of course, won’t you?

” she said. “I think you would make the ball quite a bit more interesting. I don’t particularly see anything to celebrate myself, you understand; I’d just as soon leave animals be. But perhaps the club is to your taste.”

Sebastian frowned. “What do you mean—”

“You know, I’ve had terrible seasickness this voyage,” Wesley said quickly, over him. “You mentioned your companion is a doctor? Perhaps he has something that might help. Do you know where I might find him?”

“I think he was planning to indulge in some trap shooting this afternoon. But no need to find him.” Lady Nora had already opened her purse, and a moment later withdrew a small box. “Here. I always keep some on hand for other passengers.”

That obviously hadn’t been Wesley’s intent—Sebastian had never seen him get so much as queasy—but he said appropriate thank-yous to Lady Nora nonetheless.

As Lady Nora resumed her walk, Wesley and Sebastian stepped out of the path of the promenade to lean on the railing next to each other.

“Her companion is a doctor of nerves,” Wesley said quietly.

“And here Mr. Findlay was likely murdered in his mental hospital. A doctor might have been able to sneak inside without raising alarms and slip Mr. Findlay something deadly under cover of medicine.”

That was a good point. “Lady Nora said her uncle had sent Dr. Wright with her.”

“Yes,” Wesley said, a little more grimly. “Perhaps the new Duke of Valemount used his niece as an excuse to send a doctor to New York. Or perhaps Lady Nora would prefer us to think her uncle is behind this.”

Sebastian pursed his lips, gaze on the ocean waves far below. “Why would the duke want Lady Nora to attend the ball on Friday?”

“It could be for nefarious reasons, I suppose, but it’s also quite possible he’s trying to find her a suitor. If Valemount is looking for eligible bachelors to marry his niece, we’re obviously going to have several in our—” Wesley cut himself off. “That’s probably what it is.”

Sebastian glanced to the side, looking at him suspiciously. “You’re going to have bachelors in your what?”

“Ah.” Wesley was now staring intently at the ocean, not meeting Sebastian’s gaze. “Circles.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Lady Nora mentioned your club .”

“Did she?” Wesley said weakly.

“And would this happen to be the same club you were in with your other friend, Sir Ellery?”

“Well—these circles I’m in, they’re not large, you understand—”

“You knew Sir Ellery because he was in your hunting club.”

Wesley rubbed his forehead. “Christ, of course you remember that part.”

“So Lord Valemount is also a member at this club where you shoot things,” Sebastian said. “Why is a marquess inviting a hunting club to a ball ?”

Wesley cleared his throat. “Because it’s, ah. The, um. The Beckley Hunt Ball.”

There was a loud moment of silence.

Sebastian stared at him. “A fox hunt ?”

“ No, ” Wesley said, immediately and firmly. “It’s a hunt ball , not an actual hunt.”

“But you’re celebrating fox hunting.”

“Well—yes. Because it’s tradition—”

“Traditions can still be barbaric .” There were several walkers out on the promenade, strolling briskly behind them. Sebastian gritted his teeth, leaning on the ship’s railing and trying to keep his voice down. “Were you ever planning to tell me what kind of ball this is?”

“Truthfully? No, I wasn’t, not unless I absolutely had to,” Wesley said, lifting his chin. “I was hoping we would arrive too late and wouldn’t have to attend. Clearly foolish of me, to do anything so out of character as hope .”

“I told you hope only makes disappointment sting harder,” Sebastian muttered.

“Oh no,” Wesley said, pointing at him. “No, no, no. You are not allowed to become cynical; I will turn my entire Yorkshire estate into a bloody fox sanctuary before I let that happen.”

“What foxes will even be left if men and dogs are hunting them at balls ?” Sebastian said.

“You have my word that this hunt ball will not involve any actual hunting,” Wesley said. “Drinks, dancing, games, and gambling, yes, and it will be perfectly miserable as all parties are, but no one will be picking up arms and heading for the hills. Men will bring their daughters, not their dogs.”

“But everyone will be celebrating hunting,” Sebastian said quietly.

Wesley sighed. “Yes, they will,” he admitted. “We have thus far spent all our time in your world of magic. But now we are looking for someone with a vendetta against magic who may be from my world, and many of my peers consider hunting the height of sport.”