Sebastian smiled at his stepbrother’s jibing and thought, as he often did, how happy he was to have found such a good friend in his stepbrother.
Their parents had married six years ago, and not only had he gained a stepfather in Lord Thomas Sterling, but his son Adrian had become as close as a true brother to Adrian. Their home in Bath was full of affection and companionship, and Sebastian knew that he was a lucky man, holding a title in his own right as Viscount Ashcroft and not having to worry about life’s material needs.
They entered the dining room together and sat down at the table. Sebastian’s stepfather, Lord Thomas Sterling, was already present, and the four of them made a pleasant and intimate group together, enjoying a fine vegetable soup as their first course.
When the bowls had been cleared away and they were waiting for the next course to arrive, Lord Thomas laid his napkin down on the table and looked over at Sebastian.
“There is something I wish to discuss with you, Sebastian,” he said ominously.
“Indeed?” Sebastian replied, taking a sip of wine. “I am all ears, My Lord.”
“We have all been invited to a seasonal gathering at the Earl of Evermere’s estate. The house party starts in a few days’ time, with their famous Christmas soiree, and then will continue until Christmas itself.”
Sebastian frowned and looked around at their cosy dining room, with the fire burning in the grate and candles lit all around, casting a golden glow across the faces of the four gathered together. He was not sure that he liked the idea of spending Christmas away from home, and least of all with the Earl of Evermere and his family.
“I can tell what you are thinking,” Lord Thomas continued. “But we must see this invitation as a great honour. Or I do, at the very least. The Duke of Wexington has been working tirelessly on my behalf to build a connection with the Earl, and I think that it will do wonders to enhance our business ventures here in Bath. I think we should go, and I hope you will consent to join us.”
Sebastian frowned and put his napkin down on the table. “You know there are many reasons why that prospect is not an appealing one for me, Sir,” he said slowly. “I must think about it. You will forgive me if I take my leave from the table.”
He got to his feet, his chair grating against the floor with a screech. He turned to his mother as he prepared to leave the table. “I am sorry, Mother. I must go and think about this by myself for a while.”
She nodded a little sadly. “Of course, Sebastian. You must do what you need to do.”
Adrian nodded, too. Sebastian knew his family understood his conflict, and he felt grateful for their support. He left the room and strode along the corridor towards his own private parlour, then entered the room and closed the door behind him, glad to be by himself.
He paced up and down the small room, lined with shelves and with a large mahogany desk in the corner festooned with papers and trinkets.
The Earl of Evermere. Lord George Langley. The man who had collaborated with his father all those years ago, in the 1790s, on a shipping venture to the East Indies. Sebastian was only fourteen years old when the venture was being planned, and he did not understand every detail.
But he knew that his father was excited about it and had placed a large amount of his own capital at risk in the hope of big returns. They hoped the venture would provide them access to many rare spices and textiles in the East Indies and open up great trading opportunities, bringing them large profits and further opportunities.
And yet, somehow it had all gone wrong. The ship was lost, seized by pirates somewhere in the remote ocean. All the money was gone, too, alongside the loss of the ship. But worse than that, Sebastian’s father, Julian Ashcroft, was implicated in the loss.
An informant came forward and blamed him, accusing him of sabotage, and after a long and drawn-out trial, he was sent to prison. And there, he perished, having given up hope of ever clearing his name. Sebastian was just fifteen years old when he lost his father, and as if that in itself was not painful enough, the last year of Julian Ashcroft’s life had been spent in shame and disgrace.
And Sebastian had always suspected, in the back of his mind, that George Langley had something to do with it. He was convinced that his father had been betrayed; of course, he was innocent of the crimes he had been accused of, Sebastian had no doubt about that.
But how was it that George Langley, his closest friend, had done nothing to exonerate him? How was it that the truth had never been uncovered? Someone had betrayed Julian Ashford, and the most obvious culprit was George Langley, the illustrious Earl of Evermere.
And now his stepfather, who he esteemed greatly, was asking him to spend Christmas with this man! Everything within him pushed back against the suggestion.
He could not bear the thought of sitting around a festive table with that man, looking at the opulence and wealth that he was surrounded by and knowing that his father had suffered greatly and perhaps at his hands. He was not sure that he could do it, even if it were his stepfather’s most earnest wish.
He crossed the room to a display cabinet in the corner and looked inside. It was filled with treasures that he had collected on his travels.
He knew that he was fortunate to have been able to undertake the Grand Tour, that traditional rite of passage for wealthy young men, and he remembered his excitement as he boarded the ship at Dover to cross the Channel to Calais. And onward, he had travelled, first by riverboat, then by coach, through northern France, and to Paris, then onto Geneva, then Rome.
It was Rome that had captured his imagination and his heart, and he looked fondly at the bronze statue of Marcus Aurelius on horseback that he had brought home, a model of the famous sculpture situated at the Piazza del Campidoglio. He remembered the moment he had first seen the real thing, in all its breathtaking splendour.
And then, in a moment, the famous quotation from that emperor popped into his mind –‘the best revenge is to be unlike him that performed the injury’.He could not recall exactly when he had first become aware of this saying, but he felt, at that moment, that it had cut through his consciousness now for a reason.
As he pondered this, there was a soft knock on the door, and his mother, Lucinda, entered the room tentatively.
“I am sorry to disturb you, my dear,” she said softly, “but I did not like to think of you alone in here and distressed.”
Sebastian shook his head. “I am not distressed, Mother, I promise you,” he replied, sitting in one of the leather chairs next to his desk and motioning to her to sit opposite him. “But I am rather confused about the best course of action to take, and I am sure you know why.”
“Sebastian, if you do not wish to join us at the house party at the Evermere estate, then I will not force you to come, I promise, and neither will your stepfather.”
