Sebastian - Secrets (6 page)

“Old bat?” His eyes are glinting roguishly.

“Yes, old bat,” I say defiantly.

He throws his head back and laughs, a deep rasping laugh and I love the way his eyes crinkle.

“You’re laughing at me again!” I protest.

“Not laughing at you, no.  It’s a long time since I laughed.  You light up the room.” 

“What a lovely thing to say.” I put my hand on his
tentatively and I swear a spark crackled as our skin touched.

He stares at me until I look away.

“Come with me, I promised to show you a little more of the house but it’s late.  The grand tour will have to wait until another time, but I will show you the heart of the house.  Come.” He takes my hand, pulls me to my feet and leads me from the dining hall. For a moment I wish he would take me upstairs and have his wicked way with me, but in fact he leads me past the vaulted oak staircase and through a door into a vast kitchen. 

There are flagstones on the floor and a double range stove. I immediately love this room, it feels so homely and welcoming and I imagine laughter and conversation around the refectory style oak
table, which sits in the middle of the room. It is indeed the warm, beating heart of the house.

He directs
me to sit on one of the two heavy church pew benches, which are placed either side of the table and he lights a candle, which gives a soft ambient light. 

I notice there are no staff around and presume they have finished their duties for the night.

He offers me coffee, and puts a heavy copper kettle onto the range to boil.  Leaning against the wall next to the range, his dark hazel eyes fix on mine.  It’s so hard to read what is going on behind those darkly lashed windows to his soul. 

Feeling emboldened by the alcohol, I decide to interrogate my mysterious host.

“Tell me about your staff Mr. De Montfort, it’s clear that you haven’t hired them for their brains” did I really say that? 

“Elizabeth,” his repeated use of my full name reminds me of my childhood. “
That’s a strange question.  I like to surround myself with beautiful things.  Does that make you uncomfortable?” His answer takes me by surprise but affirms my belief that he beds these women.

“
Not uncomfortable. No. However, it seems strange to only hire attractive young girls… unless you expect additional benefits than just waitressing.” It must be the alcohol really fuelling my confidence, but I can’t stop myself.

He regards
me more coolly, and I see hardness in his eyes that I haven’t noticed before. “And would it shock you if I did?” he asks.

W
hat does that mean? Is that ‘yes I do fuck them,’ or ‘no I don’t’?
I want to ask.  I rarely know when to keep quiet and I never think before I speak and I simply can’t let this go - I want to know more.  I match his stare and reply curtly.

“Naturally, it wouldn’t bother me - I don’t know you.  I’
m simply curious as to how you treat these poor staff of yours Mr. De Montfort”
.  That told him.  Gosh how much have I drunk
?  His retort cuts me to the quick.

“Firstly, Elizabeth, I am not Mister De Montfort.  I am Lord Sebastian James De Montfort, 9th
Earl of Trevissay. You may call me Sebastian – even though, as you rightly say, you don’t know me”. 
Oh please.  A LORD
!

“Secondly, Elizabeth
, those ‘poor staff of mine’ elect to work for me.  It may be that the financial incentives are considerable, or it may be that I am a fabulous lover, either way it’s really not your concern is it?”  Geez that told me! 

“Thirdly Elizabeth,”
there’s a thirdly
?  “Do you take cream and sugar in your coffee?”  A wry smile touches his lips and I notice how his eyes smile too.  He could melt me with those eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’
ve no right to pry.  I think I’ve had way too much to drink.”  I apologise profusely and the atmosphere lifts a little.

             
“I forgive you.  Actually, it’s not as bad as you seem to think.  Three of the young women were hired for the event this weekend.  Only one lives in permanently.” That makes me feel a little better.  Why do I care?

“I see.”  I fiddle with a thin silver bracelet.

“That’s pretty,” he is by my side now. Admiring my wristlet, he lightly runs his index finger along its circumference, his thumb brushing across my skin as I hold my breath.  Abruptly, he resumes his position by the range, taking the simmering kettle from the hob.

“It was a gift from my children last Christmas,” I tell him, missing Joe and Bella badly.

Sebastian hands me a steaming cup of coffee and sits on the bench opposite me, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands.

“How old are they?”

“Joe’s seven and Bella is seventeen.”  I sip the coffee gingerly.

“That’s quite an age gap,” he observes.

“Yes it is,” I reply.  “We had difficulty conceiving.  Primarily because sex didn’t happen very often.” 

“I see.  I’d like to know more about you,” he prompts.  “Tell me why I see sadness when I look into those beautiful blue eyes.”

He takes me by surprise yet again.  He seems so intuitive and yet I feel angry at his bluntness when he’d been so protective of his own privacy.  I consider my reply.

“Not much to tell.  Married, two children, my own business, busy life.” I sum up my life in one brief sentence.  He frowns at me and his lips form a stern thin line. 

“Thank you for the
brief synopsis Elizabeth, now please tell me about you.”

“Everything?” I ask incredulously.

“Everything.” He confirms, resting back against the pew, his arms crossed.

I find myself telling this man, this stranger, my life story.  There is something compelling about Sebastian and I feel safe, in danger, lust
ful, all of those feelings but mostly I feel compelled to do as he says. 

He listens intently without interrupting and with an expression on hi
s face that is unreadable.  After I have finished, and my coffee is cold, he sits back and sighs deeply.  I wonder if I should have told him about my marriage, my loneliness and my feelings of rejection.  He is not saying anything. 
Say something
.

“Why do you stay with him?  You deserve to be cherished Elizabeth.” He reaches across the table and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear
again, and it is such a gentle yet sensual gesture that I blush once more.

“
It’s not that easy to leave him.  I don’t think I’m the perfect wife either.” Yawning, I begin to succumb to fatigue and the alcohol.

“Because something is a challenge, does not mean that one shouldn’t rise to it, Elizabeth.”

“You have no idea …” I begin, but he interrupts me.

“
You’d be surprised.  It’s late,” He says. “You are tired.  Go to bed now.  When you leave tomorrow morning, I want you to give me your business card and we’ll meet again soon.” 

“Aren’t you going to tell me anything about you?  I’m not
that tired.”

He shakes his head.
  “Not yet.  Get some sleep.”

He is infuriating.

“Ok,” I agree meekly.  “Goodnight Sebastian.  Thank you for a lovely night.”  Sebastian proffers his hand, which I take in mine.

“It’s I who should thank you,” he whispers.  “You are an intriguing woman, Elizabeth Dove.  I’m very glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”  Still holding his hand, I stretch up and kiss him gently on the cheek.  He touches his cheek with his fingertips and closes his eyes.  When he opens them I see pain in his eyes – a bleakness that makes my heart ache for him, and I long to hold him tightly and kiss him properly.

“Good night.” He steps away, my fingers slip from his and the moment is gone.

Feeling exposed to him, and regretful, I go to bed.  My emotions are jumbled and I scold myself for letting my guard slip.  Tomorrow is another day – a line from my favourite movie ‘Gone With The Wind’ - and it’s my mantra now.  I’ll think about these feelings tomorrow. 

C
limbing wearily into bed, it crosses my mind that I’m doing as I am told for once in my life.  I’m going to bed and getting some sleep because I’m tired and because Sebastian told me to.  Sebastian has a manner about him, which makes me want to obey him and to make him happy.  I realise how refreshing it is for a man to make simple decisions for me. It is truly what I long for, what I need. Sleep comes easily.

I wake shortly before seven, and gaze sleepily at my room.  It has a dusty splendour of days gone by.  Puddled curtains made of a heavy ochre brocade pool on the floor – I don’t recall closing the curtains last night yet they are closed this morning.  I try to recall how much I drank last night, as I massage my temples, my head muzzy.  I yawn and stretch, and think to myself that I could get used to waking in a room like this each morning.  Heaven.

I wash and then dress in a skirt, cashmere sweater and knee high winter boots and, satisfied that I have packed all my belongings into my overnight bag, I leave my bedroom and set off in search of breakfast.

The gaggle of female chatter, tells me that my event colleagues are gathering in the dining hall.  I look forward to the peaceful drive home, as I take a seat next to last night’s top business woman.  She is a gregarious character who is large both in personality and stature.  I congratulate her on her business achievement and we chat while breakfast is served.  She tells me that she received her award following the growth of her online business and I wonder how much she’s worth although I don’t like to ask, which is surprisingly polite and restrained for me.

“Love, have you met his Lordship yet?” she asks me.  “He’s a strange one.  Doesn’t usually rent out his house for anything so we are very hono
ured.” 

I can sense that there is gossip about to spurt forth
, and I draw closer to her conspiratorially, hungry for information regarding Sebastian.

“When the
‘Women In Business’ organisers were viewing venues, this one had just been made available for the first time.  If you ask me he must need the cash … or the company of a houseful of women.  Rumour has it that his wife’s dead but he’s one for the ladies.  They always are, these rich country folk.”

I recall the spurious attributes of his Lordship’s staff team who served us last night. 

“I met him last night,” I say and watch her raise an envious eyebrow.  “He seems rather aloof and, frankly, I found him to be arrogant.”  This appears to whet the woman’s appetite for gossip and she nods her head in agreement.

“Arrogant or not, I bet half the women in this room wouldn’t kick him out of bed if given half a chance.  He’s gorgeous.” 

This time I am in agreement with her.  She shovels a gargantuan forkful of scrambled egg into her mouth.

My mobile phone beeps, indicating that a text message has been received.  I pull it from my handbag and see that it is Ruth asking how the event has gone
.  No doubt she’ll require a thorough debrief on the whole event, as she’d been disappointed she couldn’t attend due to a clash of meetings.

I note that I have received no text message or
missed call from Alan or from fire fighter Simon, not that I had expected to hear from either, but I find still find it hurtful.  It would be nice to be missed and thought of.

The bevy of irritatingly attractive waiting staff are placing hot plates of full English breakfast in front of us all
, and I heartily tuck into the delicious sausages, bacon and eggs and enjoy two cups of English breakfast tea served in delicate porcelain cups. 

B
reakfast finished, our group begins to disperse and begin homeward journeys.  I wonder if I’ll see Sebastian again this morning.  I find myself longing to see him one more time, and I can’t fathom what it is about that bossy, arrogant, tall, dark, gorgeous man that has me so mesmerized. 

I stand in the
ancient, vaulted hallway and look around, hoping for the opportunity to thank our host and to see him once more but he does not appear.  Seeing the member of his staff who greeted me yesterday, I take the opportunity to ask if he will be saying farewell to us.

“His Lordship has already left to take his morning ride,” she tells me.  His Lordship.  It has an old fashioned ring to it.  

The disappointment of not seeing Sebastian again weighs heavily on my mind, but I decide to leave my contact information for him, in the hope that he will get in touch.

“Sebastian asked me to leave my business card for him.”  I hand my card to the girl and she places it on the mantel above the fireplace in the expansive entrance hall.  “Please ensure he gets that card, and please tell him that Beth Dove says thank you and goodbye.” 

She nods curtly and walks away, I watch her trim figure disappear through the kitchen door and it strikes me how like a slave she is – timid, pretty, dressed in black and evidently completely controlled by her boss.  I wonder if she is the one who lives in, a twinge of jealousy taking me by surprise.