Free A Duke For All Seasons by Mia Marlowe Page B

Neville had enough doubts for both of them. “She was coerced into her part of the scheme.”
         “So she says.”
         “And I believe her.”
         “Ever since we were at Oxford together I’ve had the utmost respect for that brain of yours. However, it seems to have gone on hiatus just now.” Neville blew a cigar smoke ring into the air. “Which part of your anatomy have I the pleasure of speaking with at present?”
         Sebastian frowned darkly at his friend. Was the fact that he’d already bedded the lady branded on his forehead? “I have a plan.”
         “Obviously, so does she.”
         “Arabella is a pawn in this. A courier only,” Sebastian said. “I’d stake my life on it.”
         “You are. Depend upon it. May I remind you that the punishment for treason is still hanging, drawing and quartering?”
         Sebastian glared at him. “Hear me out. It’s no good taking the letter to the authorities. They’d only warn the persons who’re being targeted and the assassin will simply go to ground. He’ll strike in another way at another time. We need a stratagem that will lull him into a sense of easy success, and in so doing, we’ll choose the ground we fight on.”  
         Neville listened without comment while Sebastian explained what he proposed to do in order to stop the assassin in his tracks. Then Lord Granger pulled on his cigar three times, cogitating on the possibilities and weighing the options. Finally, he met Sebastian’s gaze.
         “It might work,” he admitted. “But it’s risky.”
         Neville didn’t know the half of it yet. “There’s more,” Sebastian said. “I’m going to need your assistance.”
         When he finished outlining the rest of his plan, Neville let out a low whistle.
         “Will you help me?”
         “Yes, of course,” Neville said, waving away the question. Then he fixed Sebastian with a penetrating glare. “Are you sure she’s worth it? You could lose everything.”
         Sebastian didn’t bat an eyelash. If Arabella had lied to him, he’d lost everything already.

 
    “Above all else, a gentleman should take pains to see that while the needs of his body are fully met in the relationship with his mistress, his heart is never engaged.”
    ~ A Gentlemen’s Guide to Keeping a Mistress
     

Chapter 11
     
         A venerable old manor house takes on a different character by night than it shows to the world by day. Every shadow is a ghost of time gone by, each low creak of settling foundations a complaint from the past. A wakeful person is not likely to feel solitary roaming the dark halls. Shades of previous occupants lurk around every corner.
         But Sebastian wasn’t plagued by any of those late night spirits in his nocturnal wandering. The real woman in the silk-draped guest chamber so filled his imagination, there was no room for other fancies. He found himself standing outside Arabella’s door before he realized that was his destination.
         He raised his hand to knock but then stopped himself. The 8 th Duke of Winterhaven didn’t need her permission to enter a room in his own home.
         Besides, he was in no mood to accept rejection and he couldn’t be sure Arabella wouldn’t tell him no. Until they’d taken refuge in the hunting lodge, she’d seemed determined to make a damned virtue of refusing him.   
         He turned the knob and slipped into the chamber. Silent as a wraith, Sebastian moved to her bedside. He’d thought her stunning on stage. Silvered by moonlight, she was nothing short of ethereal, his very own faery queen.
         “Bella.”
         He hadn’t meant to say anything. Her name simply escaped his lips without his conscious volition, a single word tribute to his need of her.
         Need. All right, he’d admit it. She wanted him to need her and he did. He hoped she was satisfied.  
         She stirred and