Aweek after the turbulent events at Lidiford, Sebastian stood at the end of Fanny’s bed and looked down at the miserable young woman, who sniffled into her handkerchief. He tried to dredge up some shred of pity for Fanny Lynch, but the memory of how close he had come to being forced to marry the wretch made him push his stepfather’s spirit behind him. He might be able to find it in his heart to forgive her, but he would never forget.
Fanny looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes.
‘Have you,’ she began in a tremulous voice, ‘come to take me home?’
Sebastian stared at her. ‘Home?’
‘To Brantstone?’
‘I don’t know where your home is, Fanny, but it’s not, and never has, been Brantstone. Your presence there was based entirely on lies and deception.’
Her lip wobbled. ‘I didn’t know!’ she wailed. ‘Freddy only told me that Lord Somerton had offered us his home and would look after us.’
Sebastian might have felt inclined to believe the woman’s credulity, had he not remembered the very active part Fanny hadplayed in Freddy’s deceptions, from the cheating at cards through to that ghastly night in the library.
‘As it is, I am considering turning you over to the constable. You will be lucky not to hang for the amount of silver you have stolen from me.’
‘You wouldn’t do that.’ The tears stopped and Fanny sat bolt upright. ‘I will be transported to New South Wales and never see Freddy again.’
Sebastian hesitated. Much as he disliked Fanny, he hated to be the bearer of bad news.
‘Freddy is dead. His body was washed up on a beach near Lidiford two days ago.’
Genuine tears welled anew in the large blue eyes and spilled down her pale cheek as she fell back on the bolsters.
‘Dead? Not Freddy, not my brother... Sebastian, you are all I have now. You have to help me.’ She clutched at his sleeve but he stepped back out of her reach. ‘Don’t turn me over to the constable. Please. I’ve said I’m sorry for what we did. Freddy’s always looked after me. I don’t know what to do without him.’
Sebastian refrained from the angry words that sprang to mind. Fanny did not need to be reminded that her brother was a murderer who would have—should have—died at the end of a hangman’s noose.
He glanced at Fanny’s nurse, who stood by the door, her arms folded, her face impassive.
‘This is what I will do for you, Fanny. I won’t hand you over to the constable. You will be looked after here and, when you are well enough to travel, you will be given the sum of fifty pounds and an introduction to a respectable lady in London who can find a position for you as a lady’s companion. After that, it is up to you what path you choose to take.’
‘But, Sebastian?—’
He hardened his heart. ‘I’m sorry. I will do no more for you.’
‘And very generous, his lordship is. You should thank the lordfor your good fortune,’ interjected the woman who was caring for Fanny, and evidently knew the better part of the story.
Fanny cast her an uncertain glance. She looked down at the sodden piece of cloth in her hand.
‘Yes. It is more than I deserve. Thank you, Lord Somerton.’
For the first time, Sebastian caught a glance of the potential the young woman could have in the right circumstances, but he would not dictate her future. That was entirely Fanny’s decision.
She looked up at him and, for the first time, a smile caught at the corners of her mouth.
‘When is the wedding?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘In the new year. How did you...?’
‘I guessed. I always thought you and Lady Somerton were meant for each other. I really rather liked Colonel Dempster,’ the corners of her mouth drooped. ‘Do you suppose...?’
Sebastian glared at her, and she subsided into silence.
He put on his hat and, inclining his head to acknowledge Fanny’s nurse, left the room and the last of his responsibility to Fanny Lynch behind him.
Chapter Sixty-Five
