Free A Duke For All Seasons by Mia Marlowe Page A

the female portraits in the room. “Is there a painting of her here?”
         “No. If there ever was, I suspect the old duke destroyed it,” Lady Moorcroft said. “You see, before Sebastian had ridden his first pony, Helen ran away with the sailing man who captained one of Winterhaven’s ships.”
         “She left her son?” Arabella had left her daughter too, but not for the sake of a lover. However her heart ached over the decision, she knew Lisette was far better off with Arabella’s sister and brother-in-law.
         “In fairness, she couldn’t very well have taken the boy with her, could she? Winterhaven was too cold and proud to pursue her for her own sake, but he would have dogged her to the ends of the earth for the sake of his heir,” Lady Moorcroft said between leisurely sips of wine. “I like to think Helen was happy with her lover. After all, she gave up everything to be with him.”
         Of course Lady Moorcroft would defend her sister, but all Arabella could think of was a motherless young Sebastian, abandoned to the care of his silent, pitiless father.
         “Then one spring, little Hermione turned up at the gate in a basket. Helen had died in childbed and her lover had no use for the child. But since Helen was still married to the duke, the girl was accounted legally his. Hermione is Sebastian’s half sister, though I think the old duke might have sent her to the foundlings’ home if she hadn’t had Helen’s startling blue eyes.” Lady Moorcroft finished the last of her wine. “Hermione was a winsome child. Always biddable. She was a comfort to the duke, I think, toward the end.”       
         “But she and Sebastian don’t get on?”
         “No, I don’t think it’s that.” Lady Moorcroft considered the decanter with a sideways glance as if to see if it held enough wine to make the trip across the room worth her trouble. “Helen both unites and divides them. I don’t believe Sebastian ever gave up hope that his mother would come back. Hermione’s birth meant she never could.”
         Lady Moorcroft might be a bit tipsy, but truth sang with vibrant tones in her words.
         “So now, my nephew tries to control every encounter with women. Hence the contract,” she said, sagging a bit against the piano. Then she waggled a finger at Arabella. “But you, my dear, just keep saying no to that bit of silliness. You’ll make an honest gentleman of him yet.”
         Lady Moorcroft listed badly and threatened to tumble face first onto the Turkish carpet. Arabella rose from the piano bench and skittered around to her side. She linked arms with Lady M. and started toward the door.
          “I’ll do my best, milady,” she said as they meandered through the connecting rooms to the curving staircase leading to the upper floors.
         Making Sebastian an honest gentleman was an idea with real appeal. Though given the way her relationship with him had begun, with deceit and subterfuge, she wondered how an untruthful woman could go about making any man honest.
    *     *     *     *     *
     
         “Neville, that’s enough.” Sebastian brought his fist down on the desktop hard enough to rattle the inkwell and set the stuffed owl on the corner atremble. “I told you I’d handle it and I will.”
         “I fail to see how making the lady your house guest constitutes ‘handling’ the situation.” Lord Granger didn’t seem the least troubled by Sebastian’s anger. In fact, if his red ears were any indication, he was boiling with plenty of ire of his own. “You’re dealing with treason here. If you aren’t careful, you’ll become implicated in her plans. Perhaps even branded her accomplice.”
         “Arabella is not a traitor,” Sebastian said, willing it to be true. He hoped the dossier he’d ordered on her would bear out her story, but for now, he didn’t dare show the slightest doubt to his friend.