Free The Spare by Carolyn Jewel Page A

her heart.
    "Your brother, Miss Royce," Sebastian said, "heard nothing but the wind and the timbers settling." What kind of mother would she be, filling her children's heads with superstitious nonsense? Hell. He might end up with a nursery full of vain, idiot offspring. Miss Willow yawned again, but he suspected she hid amusement behind that forgery of a yawn.
    James sighed. "What a pity you have so little imagination, Tiern-Cope."
    The carriage stopped, signaling the end of the drive to Far Caister and, more specifically, their arrival at the Crown's Ease. Villagers stopped to gape, and shopkeepers appeared in doorways to watch. The coachman's chest swelled to bursting and the grooms, too, made a show of their duties, snapping down the steps, holding harnesses, shouting instructions to the ostler.
    James took in the hubbub with an amused and more tolerant smile than Sebastian. A murmur rose. Diana, wrapped in ermine, flashed an ankle as she stepped down, reaching for Sebastian's hand. Her gown, peeking from the cloud of ermine surrounding her, proved a confection of green-and-yellow silk gauze that made a striking contrast with her glossy hair. Diana took the adoration in stride, indeed, as her due. She was a beauty, no doubt of that. So, why did she leave him without the slightest stirring of passion? What if he couldn't bring himself to kiss her? Certainly, he could. Of course he could. Whether he wanted to was another matter entirely.
    Miss Willow came down next. She, Sebastian noted, made nothing like the impression Diana had. Her shopworn gown of white muslin was so precisely like the one she'd worn yesterday as to be, in fact, the very same. With the exception of that copper-on-fire hair, she was quite ordinary. Well, in all honesty, not ordinary. No one with hair that color could be called ordinary, and he had to allow she was pretty, and without the aid of fashion. Several in the crowd tipped a hat or bent a quick knee, not the least in awe of her. Though respectful, they gave gap-toothed, gnarled grins. A few lifted a hand in greeting. The manner in which the villagers greeted her bothered him. Miss Willow would not command this sort of affectionate respect if her name had been inappropriately linked to Andrew or to any other man.
    The thought gave him pause. If James was right about anything, it was that privacy did not exist in Far Caister. An illicit relationship between her and his brother could not have been kept quiet. She was an old maid, nearing twenty-five, for God's sake, who lived with her ailing mother. Andrew could not possibly have called on her without remark. The servants would know if he'd entertained her at Pennhyll, and it seemed the height of unlikelihood they had managed to conduct an affair at some other location. While he didn't doubt Andrew's expertise in trysting, he did doubt his brother possessed the discipline for a prolonged and secret affair with the village spinster. He had a sudden and rather unpleasant recollection of his reply to Mrs. Leveret's inquiry. Sebastian's belly hollowed out. Had he been hasty and done Miss Willow an unpardonable disservice? He caught a glimpse of James staring at her with frank and open lust and decided he'd only anticipated the event.
    "How fortunate you are, my Lord," Diana said, "to live near so quaint a town as this." Onlookers nodded, finding favor in the remark. Sebastian felt an undeniable shock to hear evidence that the villagers took as much or even more interest in his future wife than did he. Whatever he did for himself, he owed Far Caister a wise choice. If beauty and position were the criteria then Diana must be his countess.
    James offered Miss Willow his elbow, which she accepted with the sort of smile an elderly aunt saved for a favored nephew. If she had any chastity to keep, it would be despite James's best efforts. The man was beside himself with longing and prepared for extravagance. No woman in her position could remain proof against