CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“The appearance of harmlessness can be effective as a disguise. Thankfully, I am not easily fooled.” —The Dowager Marchioness of Wallingham to Lady Berne upon hearing said lady’s despondence over damage caused by her new feline companion.
Pleasant and affable. In Colin’s estimation, those words perfectly described Harrison’s best friend, Henry Thorpe, the Earl of Dunston. The lean, brown-haired lord stood beside Harrison, a glass of sherry in hand, an expression of insouciance on his face. “So, this Mr. Simons—”
Colin lifted a brow at Dunston while lifting his teacup from its saucer. “Syder.” He took a drink. It was not brandy, but at least it was strong.
“Ah, yes. Syder,” continued Dunston. “He manages a number of these gaming hells, I presume. How many have been … how would you put it? Shuttered, I suppose.”
Sighing, Colin glanced at Harrison, noting how his brother examined his pocket watch and then peered across the Clyde-Lacey drawing room at Jane. “Four so far. More have been raided. But Syder owns more than the hells,” Colin answered, though he was not sure why he bothered. “His empire stretches from one end of London to the other. He has interests in everything from slaughterhouses to houses of ill repute.”
Dunston smiled his affable smile. “Nothing wrong with that last bit, I daresay.”
Shaking his head, Colin focused on Sarah, who stood next to Jane near the fireplace. She was lovely, her slender form draped in smooth black silk, her hair softly glowing in the candlelight. Little honey curls had been left artfully loose to frame her face.
He wanted her badly. It was that simple. And he could not have her. Not if he wished to live with himself.
Once again, Dunston’s voice intruded. “Harrison tells me you had a near miss this morning. A band of footpads made an attempt on you as you came out of White’s?” He tsked. “A man should carry a knife to deal with just this sort of malefaction.” Patting his own trim waist, he grinned at Colin. “The element of surprise, as it were.”
“I would not require a knife or a pistol or a bloody battalion of footmen if Syder’s holdings had been fully dispatched,” Colin bit out. “An eventuality I await with great anticipation.”
It was Dunston’s turn to raise a brow. “Well, it is my understanding of Lord Sidmouth—not that I know the Home Secretary particularly well, mind you. Dreadful chess player. That is the extent of my acquaintance. In any event, I have heard Sidmouth is far more interested in stamping out seditious gatherings of impoverished upstarts than he is in dismantling London’s criminal enterprises, however pernicious they may be.” Dunston took a sip of sherry. “I suppose, given the limited resources of the Home Office, it would take a very determined individual to press for raids and such on the timetable you seem to prefer.”
Colin glared at the earl. “Such an individual would do well to accelerate his efforts, as it is his skin I am protecting.”
Harrison looked at his watch for the second time in three minutes. Dunston released an exasperated sigh. “What is your obsession with that thing?”
Giving Dunston a glare of his own, Harrison replied, “It is no concern of yours.” Then, the duke’s attention drifted again to his wife. He swallowed visibly.
“Your brother is hopeless, you understand,” Dunston observed, addressing his comment to Colin and tipping his sherry glass in Harrison’s direction. “Besotted. Counting the minutes—literally. He has turned his preoccupation with timepieces into a preoccupation with—”
“Why exactly are you in London?” Harrison grumbled. “Plaguing me with your unsolicited observations cannot be the only reason.”
“Hunting has been dreadful this year. Too much rain.” Dunston took another sip and shrugged. “I heard you had gone up to London, and I decided it could not possibly be as tedious as Fairfield Park, where a quarter-hour of riding means a drenching down to one’s ballocks.” He shuddered and brushed at an invisible speck on his sleeve. “Besides, I was in need of some new waistcoats.”
“You have more waistcoats than any man I have ever met,” Harrison retorted. “That includes the Prince Regent. And Beau Brummell.”
Dunston scoffed. “One can never have too many waistcoats.”
Hearing a distinctive laugh from across the room, Colin turned his attention again to Sarah. She was smiling, listening intently to Jane.
So, she wished to plan for her future, did she? Become a governess in some unknown household where any male with an itch to scratch could corner her in an empty room or shadowed corridor? Hike her skirts up and have his lecherous way with her? Like bloody hell. She would become a governess over his rotting corpse.
“Oh, dear,” said Dunston. “Now it appears we have two besotted brothers.”
Colin’s head swiveled back in his direction. Seeing his subtle grin, Colin muttered, “Hardly that. We are friends. She and her mother were left with nothing upon her father’s death. She needs my protection.”
“Mmm. If that is true, then get thee to a church, old chap.”
Giving Dunston a sharp frown, Colin repeated, “A church.”
“Well, you are already putting it about that she is your beloved intended, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then marry the girl.”
Colin blinked several times before answering with great acuity, “What … I … What’s that you say?”
“Marry. Her.”
Harrison looked as flummoxed as Colin felt. The duke stared at Dunston for a long while, then at the glass in Dunston’s hand. “I do believe you’ve had enough sherry, Henry.”
The earl chuckled. “Do not say you haven’t contemplated it yourself.”
Colin had, but not for any unselfish reason. He was not good enough for Sarah. She had more strength and honor inside her dainty foot than he had in his body.
“It sounds to me as if there is some unfortunate, unavoidable delay in the process of abrogating Mr. Syder’s nefarious activities. Which has resulted in greater risk of death or maiming for you.” Dunston took another sip and smiled blandly. “Who will protect her when you are gone? Or, worse yet, missing some critical appendage?”
“Good God, man,” Harrison said. “This is my brother you are talking about.”
“Indeed,” Dunston replied calmly. “Your brother. If he expects the lovely Miss Battersby to be reliably provided for, particularly in the event of extreme misfortune on his part, he can do no better than offering her the position of his widow. Or wife. Makes no difference, really.” He met Colin’s eyes. “If she belongs to Harrison’s family, she will want for nothing. Unless she becomes a drunkard and attempts to sully the family name by behaving in a scandalous manner. Then he may cut off her funds for a time. Frankly, she doesn’t seem the sort.”
Colin could not speak. He simply could not. It was almost perfect. The perfect answer to his appallingly imperfect predicament.
“That is patently ridiculous,” snapped Harrison, now glowering at his friend. “If Colin wishes me to provide for Miss Battersby, I will happily do so. He needn’t marry her. Bloody hell.”
Shaking his head, Colin felt strangely relieved that he could rebut Harrison’s argument. “She would never allow it. She refuses to accept what she considers charity. The only reason she’s accepted anything I have offered thus far is that she knows the danger to her is real.”
“But if you marry her, what’s yours will be hers,” concluded Dunston, who lifted his glass in a mocking toast. “One of the many benefits of matrimony. Well, perhaps ‘benefit’ is overstating it a bit. Bedding rights. Now there is a benefit I can endorse.”
Colin’s libido heartily agreed. He imagined having Sarah in his bed every night, being able to make love to her whenever he desired, to teach her pleasure and “benefit” each other until they both collapsed from exhaustion.
Marriage. To Sarah. He did not deserve her. But if it would offer her much-needed protection, perhaps it was the right and honorable course.
“Dunston,” he murmured.
“Yes?”
“You are brilliant.”
The earl smiled and sipped his sherry. “I know.”
It was genius. In the short term, he could take care of her and ensure she ate in sufficient quantity and buy her dozens of gowns. Since Harrison had reinstated his funds, he could buy a house for them to live in and a decent pianoforte for the music room and perhaps even help her reopen her school. Never had he heard a better idea.
There was only one small flaw.
It had been hard enough persuading her to participate in a pretense. To actually marry him? Knowing Sarah’s stubborn pride, she would see it as elaborate charity. He must convince her otherwise. But how?
“Colin, you do not have to do this,” said Harrison, sounding vaguely alarmed. “If you are concerned about her welfare, I will offer her a position as a paid companion to Jane, then compensate her extravagantly. She will be earning her living, and so cannot object.”
Shaking his head, Colin held up a hand. “There will always be men like Felix Foote.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter. Suffice it to say an unmarried woman is particularly vulnerable. No, this is precisely what must happen.”
What he needed was sound advice from someone who might understand how he should approach her with his proposal. Glancing around the room, he saw James Kilbrenner, the Earl of Tannenbrook, a giant of a man who, as near as Colin could determine, communicated primarily through grunting. Tannenbrook was a friend of Atherbourne’s, and had agreed to add his massive height and impressive breadth to the wall of lords surrounding Colin. He was unmarried and likely to remain so, as his overgrown size, blunt-featured face, and taciturn demeanor kept him off the prospect lists for most matchmaking mamas.
Not much help there, he thought.
Next came Lucien Wyatt, Viscount Atherbourne. Under normal circumstances, Colin would strongly consider seeking the advice of the absurdly handsome lord, as he’d had quite a reputation as a charming rake before marrying Victoria. But there was that small matter of the all-consuming hatred Lucien bore him for his very real transgressions against the Wyatt family. Colin was still sickened by his own actions. He could not imagine how Atherbourne felt or how he had resisted taking revenge.
Another unlikely source of assistance.
Traveling around the room, he lit on Eleanor. Sarah’s mother sipped her tea and craned her neck to view the book Jane was holding. She looked relaxed and content for the first time since he had known her. She was finally eating and sleeping properly, resulting in better color in her cheeks and more sparkle in her green eyes.
She will simply tell you to speak to Sarah.
There was always Jane, he supposed. She was a great friend and had given him valuable counsel in the past. She’d grown close with Sarah and so might be able to offer insight into what would work best.
Considering you are the reason she was forced to marry Harrison, asking her advice on pushing Sarah toward marriage might not be the wisest course.
Finally, he came to Victoria. His sister. She had been his friend since they were children. And she had stopped speaking to him for over a year after discovering the things he had done. Only recently had she broken her silence, and that merely to offer polite courtesies. But he had sensed her softening toward him. The fact that she was here at all spoke volumes. Perhaps she was ready to forgive the past.
His mind made up, he set his cup on a low table, left Dunston and Harrison to their devices, and crossed the room to where the ladies were clustered admiring Jane’s latest acquisition.
“Victoria.” When she raised her eyes to meet his, he cleared his throat. “May I speak with you?”
Giving a reluctant nod, she rose from her settee and followed him to the area between a potted plant and the center window, away from the others in the room. As she stood before him, her brow slightly furrowed, her familiar, blue-green eyes filled with questions and caution, he felt a tug in the region of his heart. He had missed his gentle, sweet sister.
“What is it you wished to speak to me about?” She was more reserved than before his fall from grace. Colder. As always, the guilt and regret that lived inside him rose up to coil inside his chest. For that very reason, he had avoided pressing her for reconciliation. But perhaps he could use his predicament with Sarah to open a gate in the wall between them.
He drew a deep breath and dropped his gaze to the floor before meeting her eyes again. “I have a bit of a … a quandary. And I could use some advice.”
She blinked, her gloved hands twisting at her waist. “From me.”
“It is a delicate matter involving a lady for whom I have developed a certain fondness.”
Suddenly, she paled, her hands strangling each other. “Colin,” she breathed. “Not again.”
“Er—again?”
“Tell me you have not”—her eyes darted around the room to ensure their privacy before continuing in a whisper—“compromised another young lady.”
Reeling back, his breath left him in a whoosh. “No!”
“I was so sure you had changed.” He watched in horror as tears began to fill her eyes. “Who is it this time?”
“Tori, you misunderstand—”
“You must marry her. You cannot abdicate your responsibility as you did before.”
“That is what I’m trying to—”
She stiffened as she glimpsed something over his shoulder. The dark presence resounded with wrath. He felt the force like breath on his neck. Before he even turned around, he knew who stood there.
“Atherbourne.”
His brother-in-law came around to his wife’s side looking every bit as menacing as he had envisioned. “When Victoria is distressed, I find my murderous tendencies emerging, Lacey. You may wish to avoid further provocation.”
Jaw clenching, Colin answered, “It was not my intention to cause distress. She is my sister. I would not seek to upset her.”
“You’ll forgive me if I find your protestations unconvincing after all you have done.”
He did not know how to answer. His guilt was choking him.
“Lucien,” Victoria said softly, running her hand down her husband’s arm. “Perhaps we should—”
“Nothing to say, Lacey?” The other man’s posture took on an aggressive tilt. His dark eyes flashed a warning. A storm was about to be unleashed. “No quips or clever deflections?”
He noted the room had gone silent. “What is there to say?” he said quietly. “I have begged Victoria’s forgiveness. I would beg yours as well, but I know for you it is impossible.”
Atherbourne’s head snapped back, his storm expanding until Colin imagined him surrounded by bolts of lightning, a wrathful archangel come to exact justice. “My sister is dead because of you!” he roared.
Colin swallowed, feeling the dinner he’d eaten earlier roiling in his stomach, rising in his throat. “I know,” he whispered.
His acknowledgment was lost amidst the gale of Atherbourne’s righteous fury. “You seduced her. You compromised her. Abandoned her. You ignored her pleas when she carried your child in her belly as easily as you would brush aside a bothersome insect. Now, you stand here and speak of forgiveness. You are still breathing, Lacey, only by the grace of my wife’s kind and loving heart.”
They all stood silently for a full minute. Colin looked to Victoria. Her tears had been released and now streamed down her cheeks. “I cannot change what happened, what I did,” he said hoarsely. “It is my greatest shame. Please believe I would not repeat the same mistake. To even contemplate it is abhorrent to me.” Returning his gaze to Atherbourne, whose temper began to recede when he, too, noted Victoria’s tears, Colin addressed the man he had damaged the most. “I do not ask your forgiveness because to do so presumes I am deserving of it. I am not. Some wounds are too grievous to be forgiven.”
Breathing heavily and seemingly stunned by Colin’s statement, Atherbourne swallowed visibly, his nostrils flaring. “You expect me to believe this.”
“I expect nothing. I deserve nothing.”
His eyes narrowed on Colin, heated by skepticism. “What has changed?”
Colin wished he could simply laugh and shrug Atherbourne’s question aside. But he owed the man a debt that could never be repaid. Not with words. Not with blood. Nothing could balance the scales. He could, however, answer truthfully.
“I did not know she was with child when she …” He stopped. Cleared his throat. “Regardless, it is the worst thing I have ever done, Atherbourne, and that is saying something, for I have made many, many mistakes before and since. When Harrison discovered the truth, he cut off my funds. No more brandy. No more hiding.” His mouth quirked humorlessly. “The world looks different without that pleasant glow. One’s regrets tend to creep forth and take over like thorny vines. Being viciously pursued across England and nearly dying several times also puts matters in perspective.” And Sarah, he thought but couldn’t say. Sarah changed me, too.
Victoria, her eyes shimmering and luminous, sniffed and ventured softly, “What you wrote to me—of your desire to do better, to be different than before—you were sincere? Jane said as much. I—I was afraid to believe it, Colin.”
He gave her a gentle smile. “You should know that my efforts in that regard have been far from perfect, Tori. But, yes, I am sincere.”
The Earl of Tannenbrook came quietly to Atherbourne’s side and placed a massive paw on his shoulder. “Everyone is listening, Luc,” he said in a deep rumble. “This might be a good time to bring the evening to a close.”
A flush of alarm burned through Colin’s mind. Immediately, his head swiveled as he scanned the room, assessing the damage. Harrison looked grim and torn. Dunston looked riveted. Eleanor looked appalled. Jane looked sad and sympathetic and hopeful. But there was only one face that mattered to him. One face that would point to either heaven or hell. Reluctantly, he found her.
And felt his heart sink into darkness.
*~*~*