Stephanie Laurens - The Seduction of Sebastian Trantor: From It Happened One Season

THE SEDUCTION OF SEBASTIAN TRANTOR

Stephanie Laurens

Contents

S ebastian Montgomery Trantor sank back in the wing chair angled before his librarys hearth, and smiled rather smugly at the blaze roaring in the grate. There was something intensely satisfying in sitting snug in his own home while beyond his walls a tempest raged.

Outside, the wind moaned, rising to a bansheelike crescendo before dying away to a dismal drone. Rain swept in sheets across the lead-paned windows, punctuated by the staccato patter of hail. It was a very good night to be safe inside.

Brandy glinted in the cut-crystal tumbler on the table by his elbow. The weight of the leather-bound tome he was perusing felt comfortable where it rested across his thighs.

Gaze fixed on the leaping flames, he reached for the tumbler, sipped. Savored the complex flavors as the brandy slid down his throat, felt the warmth of the fire on his booted feet.

All were comforts hed worked for, had envisaged, planned, and striven to achieve, and now he had them: the gothic monstrosity of Grimoldby Abbey that hed purchased when it had been one step away from irredeemable ruin had been transformed into a modern home sporting every comfort. His investments had prospered further, enabling him to indulge his interest in ancient languages, scripts, and cryptography. His library would make any expert swoon.

Hed found and employed staff who, like him, appreciated a quiet, restful life, one undisturbed by unnecessary fuss.

These elementsa large, old, but comfortable home and the staff to go with it, money enough to do as he wished, an excellent library and the few other material comforts he enjoyedhad been the stuff of his dreams through the years of his army service. As a second son, hed done his duty and, as was his nature, had enjoyed the endeavor while it lasted, especially as his knack for ciphers had ensured he was in frequent demand for special assignments, in turn ensuring hed never been bored.

But the wars had been over for several years. On returning to England, hed set about assembling his dreamed-of future life. And now it was his.

His to wallow in and enjoy.

Smiling again, he set down the tumbler, picked up his book, and focused on the page of Mesopotamian hieroglyphics he was slowly working his way through.

Hed barely completed a line when someone started hammering on the front door. Not just a knock, but a ceaseless battering.

He frowned, listened to his butlers footsteps as Finley crossed the tiles of the hall to the massive oak front doors. Faint sounds of an arrival reached him; the library door muffled the voices, yet apparently Finley had admitted whoever had sought aid. From the desperation of the hammering, aid had been the goal.

Imagining an overturned carriage or some similar mishap and having every confidence that Finley would deal with the matter quietly and expeditiously, Sebastian refocused on his page.

The library door flew open.

He raised his head but, recognizing the intruders boot steps, didnt rise.

His brother Thomas strode directly to the fireplace, bringing a lingering scent of ozone and rain.

Without looking his way, Thomas bent and held his hands to the blaze.

Sebastian glanced back to see Finley standing in the open doorway, a question on his face. Bring another glass. Sebastian looked at Thomas. And prepare a room for his lordship.

Finley bowed and withdrew. Sebastian heard the door click shut.

Before he could ask what had brought his brother out on such a night, Thomas whirled.

Sebastian was shocked by the haggardness in his face. What is it?

Thomas stared at him, after a moment opened his mouth, then glanced at the door. Wait. I dont want to be interrupted.

Sebastian obligingly possessed his soul in patience while Thomas fell to pacing agitatedly before the hearth.

Eventually Finley returned bearing a tray with another tumbler and the decanter of port Thomas favored.

Finley set down the tray, then glanced at Thomas. At his curt nod, Finley poured a generous dose of the port, restoppered the decanter, and handed the glass to Thomas.

Thank you, Finley, Sebastian said. That will be all.

Finley bowed and retreated.

Thomas swigged a sizeable gulp of the port.

Inwardly wincinghed rarely seen his brother so distraughtSebastian murmured, Im surprised to see you. Isnt Estelles time near?

His sister-in-law was expecting her fifth child, one everyone held high expectations would be Thomass long-hoped-for heir.

The time is nighwell, now. Thomas took another gulp, then lowered the glass. Shes had the baby.

Thomass grim tone declared the news wasnt good, but he then fell into a brown study, staring at the half full glass in his hand.

And? Sebastian prompted.

Its another girl!

Ah.

Five girls! Five! Thomas raised his head, set his jaw. Ive come to tell youno more. Estelle says no more, and I agree with her. Aside from all else, having girl after girl does nothing to protect the estatequite the opposite. Do you have any idea of the costs involved in dowering, then puffing off, five chits?

Sebastian had no idea and didnt want to know, had lived in the fond hope that he would never have to know.

Thomas drained his glass, set it on the mantelpiece and fell to pacing again. Estelle and I... the whole purpose was to have an heir to whom the estate can safely be passed, but after five daughters its clear she and I are not going to bring about that so-desirable end.

I... see. Sebastian had a dreadful premonition as to where this was leading.

Precisely. And as it cant be me, itll have to be you. Thomas halted and fixed his gaze on Sebastian. For the sake of the estate and, heaven help us, the Trantor name, youll have to bite the bullet, marry some chit, and get the family the heir it needs.

Hmm. Sebastian flirted with the hope that hed fallen asleep over his hieroglyphics and hed wake up and discover this was all a nightmare. But noThomas kept talking, his gaze boring into him.

Youre the only one who can do it. You know whatll happen if you dontafter you, Mad Freddie will inherit the lot and promptly lose it at cards or on some flea-bitten nag. The notion doesnt bear thinking about. Even if you and I wont be around to see it, it still doesnt bear thinking about.

That was hard to argue. Mad Freddie was the family nickname for their cousin Frederick, only offspring of their fathers younger brother. Suffice it to say that not even his doting mother, Pamela, turned a hair at hearing her darling so described. There was no denying Freddies propensity for foolish wagers and idiotic starts. Even his late father had recognized the problem and left his own estate in trust until Freddie reached the age of forty. However, as the primary estate of the Trantors was tied to the title of Viscount Coningsby that Thomas currently held, as matters stood, on Thomass death the estate would pass first to Sebastian, nine years Thomass junior. If Sebastian had no heirsthe point that had, with the birth of his latest niece, become criticalthen on Sebastians death the estate would pass to Freddie. As Freddie was a good thirteen years younger than Sebastian, there was an excellent chance that, barring Sebastians marrying and begetting an heir, the estate would, in the fullness of time, fall into Freddies hands.

Thomas raked a hand through his auburn hair. Frankly, the family will be on your doorstep as soon as they hear, badgering you to marry without delay. Once they learn of our latest effort, theyll panicat least all those who draw from the estate will, and with good reason.