Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels #7) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,86

way back to their days at boarding school, and although it had acquired its dents and scars, it still thrived. No one, not even the two of them, could explain why, when they were so different in character. Westcliff was honorable and reliable, a problem-solver with a strong moral compass. Whereas Sebastian, a former rake, had always lived by a far more flexible code.

Over the years, their families had spent so many holidays and summers together that their children thought of each other as cousins. As a result, there had been no romantic involvements between any of the Marsden or Challon offspring, who all claimed to find the idea somewhat incestuous.

Now it seemed a marital alliance between the Marsdens and Challons might be forged after all. But Westcliff was probably going to be rather less than enthused about the prospect of a union between his cherished daughter and Sebastian’s illegitimate son.

Westcliff came to the table with a scowl. Although the passing years had threaded the once-black hair with steel and deepened the lines bracketing his nose and mouth, the earl was still vigorous and robust. He was not a tall man, only an inch or two above average height, but the bull-like strength of his shoulders and legs, combined with a naturally tenacious disposition, made him an opponent no sane man would take on. Having once been soundly thrashed by Westcliff—deservedly so—Sebastian had no desire ever to repeat the experience.

“Where’s my daughter?” Westcliff asked.

“She’s here.”

“Unharmed? Not ill?”

“She’s perfectly fine,” Sebastian said. “What’s put you in such a damn tither?”

“Yesterday morning I received a telegram from Merritt, stating she would arrive at Stony Cross on the evening train. She wasn’t on the train, nor did she send any word.” Westcliff went to the sideboard, laden with hot dishes protected by silver covers, crystal bowls of cut fruit, and a platter of bread and pastries. He picked up a china cup from a neat stack and proceeded to fill it with coffee from a silver urn. “Why did she change her plans?”

Sebastian pondered various ways to answer that. “She … decided to retire to bed early.” And as far as he knew, she’d stayed there with Keir for the entire afternoon and all through the night. Sebastian had decided not to object, understanding there were some issues best solved with time, privacy, and a bedroom. He could only hope Keir had awakened at a decent hour and gone back to his own room.

“Have you seen Merritt this morning?” Westcliff asked.

Sebastian shook his head. “She may still be abed.”

“Not for long. Lillian has gone in search of her. She went to ask one of the servants which room she’s in.”

Alarm whistles shrilled in Sebastian’s brain. “Lillian’s here? Running loose through the house? Good God, Westcliff, don’t you think this is a bit of an overreaction to a missed train?”

“If that were the only issue, I would agree. However, Lillian and I are both concerned about a rumor that reached us two days ago.” After stirring cream and sugar into his coffee, Westcliff turned with the cup in hand and leaned back against the sideboard. “I was comfortable allowing Merritt some leeway when she wrote she’d be staying here to help care for Mr. MacRae. Although the situation was unorthodox, I trusted her judgment. Of all my children, Merritt is the most level-headed and—Kingston, why are you staring at the ceiling?”

“I’m wondering which part of the house Lillian’s in,” Sebastian said distractedly. Were those her footsteps overhead? No, it was quiet now. Where was she? What was she doing? God, this was unnerving. “What was the rumor?”

“That this MacRae is something more than a business client. There was a suggestion of personal involvement, even an engagement, which is absolute rot. No child of mine would descend to the idiocy of agreeing to marry a virtual stranger.”

“People have reasons—” Sebastian began defensively, but broke off as another question occurred to him. “How the devil could a rumor travel from Sussex to Hampshire that fast?”

Westcliff looked sardonic. “We live in the modern age, Kingston. With railways and efficient mail service, a rumor can cover the whole of England in the blink of an eye. One of your servants may have mentioned something to a deliveryman, who told a shopkeeper, and so forth. More to the point: Is it true?”

“You just said it was rot,” Sebastian replied cagily, glancing at the ceiling again. His nerves crawled with unease in the knowledge that Lillian was prowling overhead. “I