Once a Wallflower, At Last His Love (Scandalous Seasons #6)(51)

His brother-in-law gave him a sympathetic look. “I imagine your circumstances are a good deal more…er, serious if you’ve begun reading Gothic novels.” Then he grinned. “Gothic novels generally precede the offer of marriage.”

The book tumbled from Sebastian’s fingers and fell damningly open at his feet. He bent and scooped it up. “I’m not…” He let the lie remain untold. With a sigh, he tossed Mr. Michael Michaelmas’ work atop Drake’s desk.

A grin tugged at the other man’s lips. “Well, if you are reading Gothic novels upon a young lady’s recommendation, I should give you fair warning it is indeed a sign there may be more than…” He gestured to Sebastian. “…than the nothing of which you insist.”

And as much as he detested admitting his brother-in-law was correct in any matter, in that moment he was forced to concede it appeared as though Drake was, at least in that very important matter—correct. Sebastian scrubbed a hand over his face. “I imagine you find this of the utmost hilarity,” he muttered.

Drake snorted. “Indeed, not. I’d not wish the tumult of sorting through one’s feelings for a young lady on anyone.” He grinned. “Even you.” Somberness replaced his earlier mirth. He held his palms up. “I expect the only way in which you’ll determine if this lady could be your duchess would be to court her.” He paused. “I believe I’d heard mention of a visit with a young lady?”

Of course, the other man would be aware. Sebastian’s minx of a sister would certainly regale her husband with the words bandied about the scandal sheets as well as her recent visit and subsequent discovery of his latest reading pursuits.

“It was but one visit,” he said at last. And a waltz. And a kiss. And a meeting in Lord Denley’s office. And his Christian name upon her lips. And an escort to a bookshop. He spun on his heel and started for the door.

“I gather you have a visit planned this morning?” Drake called out, forcing him to stop.

Sebastian turned back.

The other man spread his arms wide. “It is my suggestion you at least manage to wait for a more, uh, fashionable hour to call.”

Sebastian glanced at the clock and frowned. Yes, a visit at seven-thirty in the morning would earn considerable frowns…and further gossip. Furthermore, every woman but for the exception of his sister detested rising early and he suspected Hermione was not much different in that regard. “Thank you for receiving me at this early hour.”

His brother-in-law inclined his head. “Mallen?”

“Yes?”

“Good luck.” Drake’s grin deepened. “I suspect you’re going to need it.”

He turned for the door handle and froze once more. He shot a glance over his shoulder. “I was wrong, Drake,” he said.

The other man folded his arms at his chest. “Oh?”

“You have always been deserving of Em. It just took me a bit of time to realize that.” With a slight bow, Sebastian took his leave. After all, he had a visit to make. He pulled out his watch fob once more. Just as soon as time permitted. He frowned. Which meant he had several hours or so before he could pay Hermione a visit. At this ungodly hour there was not much a gentleman could do. With a purposeful step, he turned back on his heel and re-entered Drake’s office.

The other man stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back. Sebastian opened his mouth. “It is on my desk,” Drake murmured, without taking his gaze from the London streets below.

“Right, right,” Sebastian muttered and strode across the room. He swiped the copy of The Entrapped Earl from the other man’s desk. “It’s merely that I have…” No plausible explanation that would ever be a good one to account for his return for the scandalous work of Mr. Michael Michaelmas.

Drake turned around and arched a sardonic eyebrow.

Sebastian held the copy up. “Well, then, thank you for this. If you’ll excuse me?” With book in hand, he took his leave—again. His footsteps echoed through the long corridors of Emmaline and Drake’s townhouse. He moved with a military-like precision for the Italian marble foyer. The butler, a gentleman missing an arm, who’d served under Lord Drake in battle, held out his cloak. Sebastian shrugged into it with a murmured thank you.

The laconic, stone-faced servant gave a terse nod and pulled the door open.

The early morning sun glared through the entryway. Sebastian shielded his eyes a moment and squinted, attempting to adjust to the sudden brightness. A servant stood in wait with the reins of Sebastian’s mount. He paused on the stoop to tuck the small book in the front of his jacket then, bounded down the steps to accept the reins. He swung his leg over the black stallion then with his knees, nudged him forward.

As he turned down North Row and rode through the empty streets, quiet resonated. With the ton’s members still abed, he contemplated his meeting with Drake. The other man was correct; there was little harm in courting Hermione and determining if she would be a suitable companion to him.

His body heated in remembrance of her breathy moans as she’d arched and strained against him in a seeming attempt to meld her body to his. Yes, she’d be suitable; in the ways he’d have his duchess—courageous, bold, passionate, eager and unafraid of the marital bed. Sebastian kicked his horse onward, guiding him along Kensington Road to the entrance of Hyde Park, onward to a familiar riding trail. He guided Bolt to a halt. The enormous creature kicked up gravel and dirt as he drew to a stop. Sebastian dismounted and rapped the reins loosely about an enormous Sweet Chestnut tree.