Southampton Swindle Page 2
Sebastian took a deep breath. “Sebastian Christopher Worthington the Third.” It felt very strange to speak his real name aloud. He had not done that for many years.
The pair of them was studying him once more. “You forgot to add the titles,” Anne said.
“No, he didn’t,” Nathanial replied. “The titles are no longer his.” He looked at Sebastian. “What were they, purely out of curiosity?”
Those were names he had not spoken of in well over a decade. He swallowed. “Viscount Norwood and eventually, the Earl of Knighton.”
“Knighton,” Nathaniel repeated. “Your father still lives, then. I must congratulate you, Sebastian. There isn’t a lingering trace of the Irish in your accent. Not one ounce.”
Sebastian let himself relax. “I could say t’same about yer own accent. You bein’ so new to England.”
Nathaniel smiled almost reminiscently. “I lost all traces of my birthplace a long time ago.”
The carriage swayed around a corner and began to slow.
“We’re nearly there,” Nathaniel said, looking out the window. “It will be easier to talk, inside. We have much to share, you and I.”
Anne smiled and her smile was full of knowledge and wickedness, sending a dart of surprise and wonder into Sebastian’s chest. What, exactly, did Nathanial mean by that?
Chapter Two
Nathanial’s rooms were located inside an extravagantly large house not far from the park. It was a very respectable address indeed.
Nathanial handed Anne out of the carriage while Sebastian looked up at the white stone façade and the windows, which all wore lace panels. He wondered if these expensive rooms were part of Nathaniel’s disguise as Beatrice’s fiancé, or if they were his real abode.
Inside, a staircase swept up to the next floor. Nathanial led them to the steps and they climbed to the second floor. A grand gallery opened up from there. Nathaniel strode to the far end, where a set of doors was recessed into the wood paneling of the gallery. He unlocked the door and opened it as he tucked away the key. He stood aside.
“We’re quite harmless, I assure you,” he told Sebastian.
Still uneasy, Sebastian stepped into the room and Nathanial shut the door behind him. Sebastian let his gaze roam around the room. There was an elegant sofa, pulled up to the fireplace, a large round dining table covered with a damask tablecloth, with a crystal chandelier lamp sitting in the middle of it. Through another set of doors that stood partially open, Sebastian could see a bedroom, with a large bed and an equally large wardrobe, its clawed legs sitting upon an elegant carpet.
It was not the poor lodgings of a hand-to-mouth swindler by any measure. He relaxed just a little.
Nathanial was standing at a bureau, pouring wine from a large flask into two glasses. Anne had settled herself on the sofa—but not in the stiff-backed upright position a lady of character maintained at all times. She was lying back against the high corner, with one foot actually raised from the floor, her lower limbs draped along the length of the sofa. Sebastian tried not to stare, for her ankle was showing. Her hems had lifted enough to reveal the slender joint encased in fine white stocking.
“Here,” Nathanial said, by Sebastian’s side.
Sebastian drew his gaze away from Anne and looked at the glass Nathanial was offering and took it. A drink was sounding more agreeable by the moment.
Nathaniel handed Anne the other glass and sat upon the low armless chair pulled up by the fire alongside the sofa. The fire was dead, but there were smoking coals that said it had been burning not long before.
“You are not drinking?” Sebastian asked Nathaniel.
He held up his hand. “Do not take offense. I cannot drink, although I would join you if I could.”
Sebastian surmised that the man must have some sort of delicate condition that disallowed wine. He held up his glass. “Very well then. Your good health, sir…and madam,” he added looking toward Anne.
She lifted her glass with a smile that seemed to be full of promise.
“Drink,” Nathanial urged him.
Sebastian drank.
* * * * *
He woke with a start, as rain pattered against glass close by his head. It was dim in the room and Sebastian blinked, tasting the effects of too much wine on his tongue and teeth.
He was in a bed. A strange bed.
Slowly, he began to put the last moments he remembered back into their proper order. Nathanial and Anne, and wine. Laughter. A great deal of laughter. As the fire Nathanial had rebuilt slowly died, there had also been a great deal of talk.
Nathanial was a storehouse of astonishing tales. He had travelled to a great many places, some of which Sebastian did not know even existed. The stories he told were fascinating for their strangeness and the oddity of the events Nathanial had experienced.
Sebastian had sat listening with rapt attention. Anne had refilled his glass more than once, but he had barely noticed. The warmth of the fire and the congenial company was quite enough to hold his complete attention.
He rolled onto his back on the comfortable mattress, frowning. He couldn’t remember clearly how he had arrived upon this bed. It was Nathaniel’s bed – the claw foot wardrobe crouched like a darker shadow in the gloom, telling him where he was. But how had he come to be here?
Dimly, he remembered being helped along, his own feet barely managing to swing forward. His head had been hanging, leaving him staring at his boots. He had been talking the whole time he was helped into the bed. What had he been saying?
He sat up in the bed and discovered a new thing: He was naked.
Invisible fingers walked the length of his spine, making him shiver. Who had undressed him? Both of them? Anne was most certainly a woman who was familiar with the intimacies of men—she would be quite capable of removing his clothes.
He looked toward the foot of the bed. Nothing lay there but a man’s dressing robe. His clothes had disappeared.
The rain ceased suddenly, leaving behind the drip of water from eaves and the wet clop of horses’ hooves, almost drowned out by the hiss of carriage wheels slicing through the water on the cobbles, outside. The room grew a little lighter, which told him it was daytime, still, but gloomy because of rain clouds.
He reached for the robe, as there was nothing else to wear, and climbed out of the bed and threw it on, belting it firmly. Then he stepped out into the main room.
Nathanial stood at the fireplace, kicking a log to coax it into rolling further into the heart of the fire. His elbow was on the tall mantle. He had taken off his coat and his shirt sleeves were carelessly rolled, lace and all, to reveal his wrists.
The candles had been lit, giving the room a yellow glow that made it seem far more intimate than its size would normally allow. The flames from the fire illuminated the carpet in a rosy halo, too.
Nathanial turned as Sebastian entered. “Good evening. I hope your sleep was sound?”
“It is evening?” Sebastian asked, looking around for a timepiece, but there was no clock to be found.
“It is nearly six o’clock. You’ve slept the afternoon away,” Nathaniel replied. “There is food on the table. I suggest you eat it. It will help with your headache.”
Sebastian did have a headache. He looked at the table. “This is most generous of you,” he said slowly, “but I should return to my own affairs and impose on you no longer. Where are my clothes?”
Nathanial kicked at the log once more. “We burned them,” he said flatly.
A cold, invisible hand clutched at Sebastian’s heart. “You…burned them.” He couldn’t believe it. “Why? What have I done to offend you that you would take such—?”
Nathaniel gave a small waving motion with his hand. “They were threadbare and good for naught but kindling.” He turned and gave Sebastian a hard look. “How long have you been wearing your entire wardrobe upon your back? Do you even have accommodations?”
“What gentleman doesn’t?” Sebastian replied.
Sebastian thought of the hard, high-backed wooden bench he had been dozing upon at the Dog and Crow on Pound Tree Road, until the inn keeper had tossed him out for the night. There were park benches and, once, a doorstep that was deep enough to keep the rain off him. But he made himself glare indignantly at Nathaniel. “Where else would I sleep, but in a bed?”
Nathaniel studied him. There was something in his expression that Sebastian could not analyze, which was disturbing, for he had never before failed to read a person’s thoughts and wishes from their gestures and expressions before.
“When was your last meal?” Nathanial asked gently.
Sebastian would have answered with more hot indignation, except that his stomach, which must have heard Nathanial’s question, gave out a sharp, loud rumble. Sebastian kept his gaze averted from the food on the table. He would not beggar himself any more than he had already.
Nathanial moved to the table and pulled out a heavy brocade chair and patted the back of it. “There’s no need to answer,” he said. “Sit. Eat. I know you are hungry. I have sent to my tailor for more clothing, as swiftly as he can arrange them. That was several hours ago, not long after we carried you to bed, so the garments will soon be here. Come and sit down.”
Sebastian moved toward the table, a dozen questions occurring to him. He didn’t know where to start, so he began with the obvious one. “A few hours to deliver an entire set of garments?” he asked. “Your tailor must be a magician in disguise.”
“I commissioned the items a few weeks ago. I merely asked him to hurry their finishing. You and I are close enough in size that you should be able to wear them without embarrassment.”
Sebastian approached the chair hesitantly. “Your charity—” he began.
“Nonsense,” Nathanial replied, with a touch of anger in his voice. “I do not pander to paupers and charity is not an act of which you could rightfully accuse me.” He gripped Sebastian’s elbow and drew him to the chair, and pushed him into it. His hand pressed his shoulder for a moment. “You are a fellow traveler, Sebastian. I would be remiss if I did not help you.”
“That still sounds like charity,” Sebastian muttered, curling his hands into fists in his lap to stop himself reaching for the platter of apricots and strawberries. His mouth watered at the sight of it.
Nathanial sat in the other chair pulled up to the table. His gaze was steady. “I like you,” he said simply. “I would hate myself if I did not help when I am in a position to do so.” He pushed the board with a redolent cheese on it closer to Sebastian, then dropped a cheese knife right in front of him. “If it helps smooth your conscience, I will confess I have spent two guineas on this meal that you can return to me when you have funds available. Now, will you eat?
It did help, to know he was expected to repay the meal, although he could not guess when he might do so. His plan to ease Lady Wandsworth away from a few of her thousands had come adrift, although the plan was still salvageable.
He picked up an apricot and bit into it, his stomach growling. The apricot was heavenly. It had been a while since he had tasted anything fresh like this. It had admittedly been a long, cold and lean winter.
“Are you not eating?” he asked Nathanial.
The man got to his feet and moved to the bureau by the door, from where he had retrieved wine, earlier that morning. “I’ve eaten already,” he replied. “You go ahead and enjoy yourself.” He poured another glassful of the excellent claret and placed it in front of Sebastian. “Just a small glass. It will help,” he said as Sebastian was about to protest.
Sebastian was more interested in the food. It was excellent – the cheese was as aged as the fruit was fresh. There was a half of a roasted fowl and a minced meat pie, both of which were quite satisfying despite not being hot. He ate quickly.
“I remember that,” Nathaniel said.
“Remember what?” Sebastian asked, after swallowing an enormous mouthful.
“Eating fast, like you’re doing now. When a man doesn’t know when the next meal will be, and is afraid this meal will be snatched away without notice, he eats as you are eating.” His expression darkened. “As I once ate.”
“You?” Sebastian asked, startled into the question. It seemed impossible that a man so worldly, so wise, might ever have had to scrape for his supper. Then he sought to change the subject, for to linger upon it might force him to reveal more of himself than he wished. Nathanial had a knack for seeing past anything Sebastian said, and ferreting out truths he would much rather remain hidden. He picked up an apple from the tray of fruit and leaned back. “Where is the lady…? Where is Anne?”
Nathaniel returned to the fire, this time to rearrange it with the poker, and add another log. “Anne had to return to Lady Wandsworth’s. She had already stretched her absence for as long as a maiden of her supposed reputation could safely do. She said she would return this evening if she could find a way to do so that wouldn’t put her status in jeopardy.”
“And what is Anne to you?” Sebastian asked and bit into the apple. It was tart and sweet and perfect.
Nathaniel had remained by the fire, but now he turned to look at Sebastian with a small smile. “So, Anne’s charms have worked their magic on you, too.”
Sebastian could feel heat in his cheeks and was glad of the low light in the room. “She seems to be a remarkable woman.”
Nathanial pushed his sleeves further up his arms. “I would be wary of her, if I were you.”
“Why do you say that? Because she is a swindler like you and me?”
“Anne is nothing like me—or you, I suspect. She has strong appetites and her taste in entertainment is…unusual. I have had many, many years of practice at this peculiar art of ours. Anne has not. She is quite young, after all. But Anne is utterly ruthless. Emotions do not interfere with her work or her leisure pursuits. Appeals to her better nature are useless. For that reason, she has had such great success, but it is a success of which I do not envy her or would ever wish for myself.”
Sebastian put the remains of the apple down, uninterested in eating any more of it. “You were telling me about Rome, earlier,” he said. “About the ruins there.”
“Oh, they’re not ruins, despite their age,” Nathanial replied easily. “Romans live in and upon the foundations built by their ancestors, back when Rome was the center of the western world. It is a remarkable place. A beautiful place—” He turned his head sharply, as if he had heard something. Then he smiled at Sebastian. “Anne is here.”
“She is?” Sebastian shook his head. “I heard nothing.”
Nathanial moved to the door and unlocked it. “She is in a hurry, too,” he added and opened the door.
A heartbeat later, Anne turned into the doorway, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks touched pink by the chill of the evening. She was once again the demure young maiden, with every hair in place and not a bow or button undone. But she saw Nathanial holding the door open and threw herself at him. Her arms wound around his neck and her entire body pressed against his. “I came as soon as I could get away. I thought I would go crazy if I had to listen to another bible reading! I told them I had a headache from all the sun this morning, and went to bed early.”
“How very enterprising of you,” Nathaniel told her. “Did you use the window or did you bribe a maid?”
“Both,” she said with a smile. “I remembered what you said about keeping the staff happy.” Then she kissed him.
Sebastian was too startled to do anything proper like clear his throat or leave the room. It was quite shocking to see two people kissing right in front of him.
Nathaniel let the door swing shut and took hold of her properly, returning the kiss with undisguised passion.
Sebastian knew he should look away, but he could not. It was wicked to watch them so openly, but it arrested
his attention.
Anne stepped back and removed her flat, wide-brimmed hat, then rapidly pulled pins from her hair and dropped them to the floor, until she could shake her head and let the thick curls fall around her shoulders. Then she kissed Nathanial again. It was a most improper kiss, if any kiss could be said to be proper, and Anne was the one leading the kiss. Her hands swiftly untied the ribbon holding Nathaniel’s queue in place, even as she pressed herself up against him, her chin raised to kiss him with fervor. As his hair swung about his neck in a thick, black curtain, she slid the buttons of his waistcoat undone and pushed it from his shoulders. It dropped to the floor with a light, muffled thud.
Sebastian wanted to squirm on his chair. Watching them was rousing him, with an intensity he had not experienced in a long time. It was not simply the depravity of a maid seducing a man with obvious relish. He realized he had sat there for too long in silence. He could not make his presence known, now. Perhaps he should simply retire to the bedroom and wait.
Then a thought slammed through him, making his body tense and his cock stir. What if they wanted the bedroom?
But Anne looked like she was happy to stand where she was, stripping Nathaniel of his clothing. She had the buttons of his shirt undone and was pulling it from his breeches, revealing the hard planes of his torso.
Sebastian drew in an unsteady breath. This was too much! Say something!
But Nathanial pulled his lips from hers and looked up at Sebastian, as if he had heard the tiny sound Sebastian had made.
His movement alerted Anne, who looked at Sebastian, startled, then laughed up at Nathanial. “I didn’t think he would still be here,” she confessed, her small hands resting against Nathaniel’s bare chest.
Nathanial turned her to face Sebastian, and he stepped behind her, his hands on her tiny waist. “Sebastian was enjoying himself,” he said softly.
Sebastian wished mightily that the floor might split asunder at that very moment, and swallow him whole.
But Anne’s smile transformed into the same knowing expression of pleasure that Sebastian had seen in the carriage and from time to time while they had been drinking. “Was he?” she asked. Her hands slid over the top of Nathanial’s, then pushed them up along the front of her dress. She pressed them over her breasts, all while staring at Sebastian.