Page 52 of My Dark Duke

Higgins dashed off, his ears pink. No doubt the lad would be mortified to repeat his edict, but Sebastian did not wish to wait while Barty faffed around getting dressed. The young man’s toilette lasted almost as long as Beau Brummel’s, though with half the result.

Higgins returned a few minutes later and breathlessly informed Sebastian that Barty would receive him.

“He said to say he’s not happy about it neither, Your Grace,” Higgins said, flushing as he repeated Barty’s words verbatim.

Sebastian chuckled and set forth in search of his cousin. He found Barty in the drawing room of his apartment, garbed in a silk banyan, with the curtains drawn against the early afternoon’s light.

“I am suffering terribly,” Barty called, weakly, as Sebastian entered the room. “Please don’t add to it.”

“Late night?” Sebastian guessed, hiding a smile.

“Early morning, in fact,” Barty sighed, though he perked up as his man arrived with a tray laden with sweetbreads, tea, and two tumblers of brandy.

“Hair of the dog,” Barty toasted, as he lifted the glass to his lips. He downed it all in one go and, when Sebastian declined the other one, downed that too.

“Much better,” Barty declared, before turning his attention to the tea and sweetbreads. “Now, tell me cousin, what is it that was so important you had to drag me out of bed at this godforsaken hour?”

“It’s afternoon,” Sebastian observed, though he did not press the matter - he had been a young blood once too, and had rarely ventured from bed before evening. “I wish to ask you what you know of the young lady who was willed the late Lord Bailey’s fortune,” Sebastian continued, with feigned casualness.

Barty raised a brow in response; no matter how much Sebastian tried to sound offhand, it would not erase the fact he had roused Barty from the bed to get his answer.

“I shall want to know the reason as to why you’re asking,” Barty answered, as he reached for a slice of brioche. “But, as it stands, I know quite a lot about the missing young lady; my curiosity was piqued, you see.”

“And, you’re an incorrigible gossip,” Sebastian reminded him.

“Hush, or I shan’t share what I know.” Barty now spoke through a mouthful of crumbs. “The girl’s mother was from good stock in Linton. The late Lord Bailey began courting her, even though there was a marriage arranged to another young lady, whose hand came with a sizable dowry.”

Sebastian bit back a sigh; he could already see where the tale would lead.

“Unfortunately, the late baron put the girl in the family way.” Bart rolled his eyes in distaste. “Which left him in quite a quandary. He did not wish to cast her aside, but neither could he afford to keep her.”

“So, what did he do?” Sebastian prompted, as Barty paused theatrically.

“Nothing.” Barty shrugged. “As weak men are wont to do. It was his younger brother who stepped up - by all accounts, he had held a torch for the young woman since they were children. He married the girl and gave the babe his name. The late Lord Bailey showed his thanks by bestowing on him the living at Bailey Manor.”

Sebastian blinked, as he recalled his first meeting with Mary. She had handed him a letter of character, purportedly from the vicar who had employed her. A Mr Hamilton, if he recalled correctly.

“The girl’s name?” Sebastian croaked, as it began to dawn on him he had truly solved the mystery of Mary’s background. “What is it?

“Miss Lillian Hamilton,” Barty said, with a flourish. “The only child Lord Bailey ever managed to sire, for his rich wife turned out to be barren. With the title set to go to a second cousin, Lord Bailey decided to secure Miss Hamilton’s future by bestowing all that was not entailed to the title upon her.”

“Did she know that?” Sebastian questioned, suddenly puzzled again.

“Most likely not, for who would run out on a fortune like that?”

“Who indeed? “

Sebastian rehashed all he knew of Mary, or rather, Lillian. She was a well-bred girl, who had taken up work on the West-India Docks to fund herself, rather than remain safe at home in Kent. Why on earth would a girl from a background like hers do such a thing?

Most would not, unless they had no option.

He felt rather foolish now, as he realised that for the entirety of her stay with him, Lillian had not been living, but hiding. She had demurred his every suggestion to go out, apart from their one trip to Vauxhall.

She was living in fear, but why was she so afraid of Lord Bailey? Surely, she must have known Sebastian would lend whatever help he could in securing her future?

“Have you taken an apoplectic fit, dear cousin?” Barty queried, with amusement. “Or has my tale stirred something within you? Perhaps you already know the whereabouts of Miss Hamilton?”

Sebastian made no reply, but Barty was not fooled.

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