Chapter Two

London, The Duke of Edgefield’s Town House, the next evening

Sebastian Sinclair, The Duke of Edgefield, stomped up the curving marble staircase and into his bedchamber. He ripped off his cravat and tossed the thing on the sapphire blue satin coverlet that enveloped his bed. “Chadwick,” he called, already impatient that his valet wasn’t waiting for him.

The door to his wardrobe flew open and Chadwick came hurrying out of the smaller adjoining room. “Your Grace,” Chadwick said, bowing. “Forgive me. I didn’t know precisely when you’d return. I—”

“Come help me off with this coat. I must be at the Markhams’ affair within the hour. The bloody Parliamentary session ran long at Westminster tonight.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The man sprinted forth and began helping Sebastian remove his coat, while Sebastian made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Sebastian frowned to himself. He shouldn’t have been so curt and demanding of Chadwick. Sebastian had been in the devil’s own mood lately—oh, who was he kidding? He’d been in the devil’s own mood for over two years now—but he shouldn’t take it out on the hapless valet.

Sebastian allowed the man to pull off his coat, then he took a seat on the padded bench in front of the bed while Chadwick kneeled before him to remove his boots.

“I’ll wear the black tonight,” Sebastian said offhandedly. “Is my bath prepared?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Chadwick hastened to assure him.

After his boots and stockings had been removed, Sebastian dismissed the man. Then he pulled off his breeches and tossed them atop the bed. Naked, he stalked across the room toward the smaller room opposite his wardrobe. He purposely avoided looking at the east door that led from his bedchamber. That was the one that led to…her room. Antipathy coiled in his belly. He couldn’t stand to even think of her name.

The moment Sebastian pushed open the door to the bathing chamber, his tight shoulders relaxed. Steam filled the room, and across the space, a full tub awaited him. Next to the copper tub was a small wooden table where a fluffy towel, a bar of soap in a small dish, and a straight razor sat. Normally, he’d ask Chadwick to shave him, but it was more efficient this way.

Sebastian had sent a note ahead asking the valet to leave out the razor along with the other items for his bath. He must make haste. The Christmastide season was always full of commitments, including dinner parties, holiday gatherings, and many other sorts of affairs Sebastian was obligated to attend. Most of them put him on edge. The Markhams’ event would be no different. Lord Markham would no doubt ask for his vote for the upcoming Reform bill in Parliament, a subject Sebastian was more than tired of discussing. He’d made his thoughts quite clear on the subject. He was a Whig and would vote with the Whigs. Markham refused to take his answer as final.