Sebastian stalked towards the door. With one hand on the doorknob, he turned and said, ‘There may well be expectations from every mother with an eligible daughter in the county, but I’m not some prize steed and I am not, I repeat,notin the marriage market!’ On the last he opened the door. ‘Now please excuse me, Lady Somerton, Miss Lynch, Mr. Lynch.’
Fanny stared at the door as it shut behind him with a firm bang. ‘Well, really!’ she said in a huffy tone.
‘No breeding,’ Freddy said, primping the corners of his mouth with his napkin. ‘What can you expect? Can you imagine Anthony strolling around the village looking like a veritable ruffian, hobnobbing with the tenants? Oh, my dear Lady Somerton, what have you brought home?’
Freddy rose to his feet and huffed out of the room.
Chapter Twelve
‘Am I disturbing you?’
Sebastian looked over the top of the broadsheet as Freddy slid into the chair across from him, a slim leather volume held in his hand.
His jaw tightened with annoyance. He had sought out the library in the hope of finding a quiet corner. For a house this size, it seemed remarkably busy. The walls of this fine room, with a magnificently painted ceiling sporting nymphs and cupids, were lined with high, heavy bookcases, filled with an impressive array of leather-bound books, and seemed to provide a sanctuary of male solidity.
‘Are you a reader of the poets, sir?’ Freddy enquired, with a slight curl of his lip as if he anticipated the answer.
‘I rather enjoy Lord Byron, but I find Shelley a bit flowery for my taste. I prefer the older poets such as Donne,’ Sebastian said, retreating back behind his paper.
Freddy cleared his throat. ‘Well, cousin, it is encouraging to know we share something in common.’
The possessive use of the familiar ‘cousin’ had begun to grate on Sebastian’s nerves. His fingers tightened on the edges of the broadsheet.
‘I understand from Lady Somerton that we are not blood relatives,’ he said, without lowering his paper.
‘Well notbloodrelatives, dear chap, but surely cousins by marriage?’
Sebastian folded his paper and set it down on the table beside him. ‘I wouldn’t presume upon a relationship that does not exist in law.’
‘Presume? Oh, my dear chap, I presume nothing. Fan and I are just your humble servants.’ Freddy looked down at the quizzing glass that hung from his neck, produced a kerchief and began polishing it. ‘Fact is, we have nowhere else to go. My late father left me with debts, dear chap. If it were not for dear Anthony’s kindness, we would be on the street. With poor Anthony now gone, we will, of course, make other arrangements, but I do crave a little leniency to allow us time to find suitable alternate accommodation.’
Sebastian considered the man. He could not, in good conscience or Christian charity, throw them both out if they had nowhere else to go, and maybe some sort of settlement would be required.
‘Of course. You are welcome to stay for as long as it takes,’ he said with little warmth.
‘Oh, you are too kind. You have my assurance that we will be gone as soon as is possible.’ Freddy folded his hands across the front of his waistcoat and smiled expectantly.
When Sebastian resumed his reading of the broadsheet and did not initiate any further conversation, Freddy said, ‘I suppose you are one of those chaps who spends his time hunting and shooting?’
‘I was brought up in the country. I both hunt and shoot, but I have spent too many years hunting and shooting our enemies,’ he said. ‘I am happy to let foxes and pheasants live in peace.’
If he hoped his words would deter Freddy from continuing the conversation, he was mistaken.
‘Cousin Anthony’s stable was judged one of the finest in thecounty,’ Freddy continued and Sebastian felt obliged to lower his paper and give him his attention. ‘Anthony knew his horseflesh and as for the fairer sex…’ He leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner and said in a lowered voice. ‘Pity he was a little less choosy about his wife.’
Sebastian bristled and the paper crackled in his hand. ‘I will not have Lady Somerton spoken of in that way.’
Freddy’s eyes widened and he held up a deprecatory hand. ‘Lady Somerton is a fine woman but not... Anthony’s sort. He liked his women with a bit more spirit in ’em. They weren’t exactly what you might call a match made in heaven and, to be honest, would you take with a woman who dresses like such a dowd? I mean, my dear, the child’s been dead well over a year and dear Cousin Anthony nearly as long.’
The child again.
‘My dear chap, there’s only one reason a fellow like Anthony would marry a woman like Isabel: money. She was an heiress. If he hadn’t married her, he’d have lost Brantstone. Just like my late, unlamented father did our estate,’ he concluded with ill-disguised bitterness.
‘I see,’ said Sebastian.
So the fine horses in the stable, which he was yet to inspect, and the elegant surroundings were courtesy of Isabel, and what had Anthony left her? A ‘comfortable jointure and use of the dower house’. It seemed like a poor exchange, and now even that had gone.
‘What do you know of Anthony’s death?’ he said, deflecting the topic from Isabel.
