Dear God. This was going to be the longest fortnight of her life.
Chapter Eight
Over an hour later, Sebastian was finishing his own bath when a knock sounded on the door. His valet entered, bearing a note atop a silver salver.
I’ve just arrived. Meet me in the billiards room for a game before dinner.
The message was unsigned, but Sebastian would know Justin’s scrawling handwriting anywhere. Sebastian had seen it often enough during their school days. He hurried through the rest of his dressing. Veronica had already dressed and left. In fact, the moment Sebastian had ordered the tub refilled, she’d made her excuses and fled from the room. No doubt she was downstairs having a pleasant visit with her mother, perhaps her grandmother as well.
By the time Sebastian made it to the billiards’ room, dusk had settled over the snowy landscape. The fires had all been stoked, and the icy windowpanes inside the billiards’ room reflected the glow.
Sebastian knocked once and at his old friend’s reply, he stepped into the room.
“Edgefield,” Whitmore called, a bright smile on his face. He was opening an ornate wooden box containing the three ivory billiard balls. “Just in time for me to trounce you before dinner.”
“I’m a far better billiards player than you and we both know it,” Sebastian shot back with a grin of his own, coming to stand next to his friend and shaking his hand. “Good to see you, Whitmore.”
Justin looked too much like his sister. Dark hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones. But Sebastian had known Whitmore since they were children, and while they might look alike, Justin was much less stubborn than his younger sister. He was confident without being arrogant and he was extremely trusting of those closest to him…also unlike his sister.
Whitmore requested two glasses of brandy from a footman who stood at the ready while Sebastian strolled up to the billiards table. “Pleasant journey?” he asked, as he picked out his favorite stick from the assortment of finely polished cues and maces that rested against the wall. This wasn’t the first game of billiards the two had played in the large room at Whitmore Manor.
“Indeed. I would have asked if you and your fair duchess wanted to share my coach, but I thought perhaps you two might wish to speak…ahem…alone.”
“Yes, it was probably best we rode separately. You missed hearing your sister take swipes at me the entire journey,” he replied, lifting his cue and turning back toward the table.
Whitmore whistled and placed the two white balls and one red one atop the wooden table. “Seriously? She’s still angry then. Didn’t you explain yourself on the ride here?”
Sebastian groaned and rubbed his free hand through his hair. He and Whitmore had had this conversation many times in the last two years…though usually when they were in their cups. “I did not explain myself and I have no intention of doing so. I told your sister what happened that night and she chose not to believe me. There’s nothing left to say.”
Whitmore sighed, inspecting the leather tip on the end of his cue. “I cannot believe I’m about to say this,” he began with a wince, “but tell me again precisely what happened.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes and placed a fist on his hip. “You’ve heard it all before.”
“I know, but it’s been a while. I may have forgotten a significant point that my dear sister ought to be reminded of.” He straightened again and gestured to Sebastian to begin the play. “Dukes first,” he said with a grin.
“Same rules as usual?” Sebastian asked before leaning down to steady his cue to take the first shot at sinking both Whitmore’s white cue ball and the red object ball.
“Same,” Whitmore replied with a nod.
Sebastian took the shot and easily sank both balls into the far pocket.
Whitmore stepped over to the pocket to retrieve the balls.
“You might as well save your breath,” Sebastian continued. “I doubt she’d listen to you any more than she’ll listen to me.”
“I am persona non grata where my sister is concerned,” Whitmore agreed. “But humor me.”
Sebastian sighed and took a sip from the brandy glass the footman had just delivered. “Very well. Not two months after Veronica and I married, Melissa—”
“Your mistress,” Whitmore pointed out, arching a brow at his friend.
“My former mistress sent me a note implying she was with child.”
“And you didn’t believe her?” Whitmore asked, leaning over the table to take his first shot.
“I was highly skeptical since I hadn’t been with her for months…since I began courting your sister, and because Melissa hadn’t accepted my decision to dispense with our arrangement with grace.”
“She was peeved,” Whitmore interpreted as he shot the red object ball into the nearest pocket.
