CHAPTER FOUR
Dev walked around the room, until he was sure he had covered every inch, and still he could not find her. Tempted as he was to change his vision, he was not foolish enough to risk it, and would only resort to that in a dire situation.
Finding Essie, he tapped her shoulder, and his sister detached herself from a group of women.
“Essie, have you seen Miss Braithwaite?”
“Why?”
“We were engaged for the supper waltz.”
Essie frowned.
“But haven't you already danced with her?”
“Yes,” Dev said, not liking where this was going and wishing he had kept his mouth closed and continued searching on his own.
“Then why are you dancing with her again?”
“People can dance more than once, surely?”
“Not you and her.”
No one could annoy him quite like a sibling.
“I am attempting to be nice, is there a problem with that?” Frustrated, he ended the sentence on a growl.
“What did you say to her?”
“What?”
Essie placed her fingers on his arm, then nodded, which Dev guessed meant she wanted to walk. Not an easy task, surrounded by hundreds of people.
“You must have said something to her, if she has disappeared.”
“I asked if she would dance the supper dance with me, and her aunt accepted, and now I cannot find her.”
“Why would she have fled when she knew you were to dance with her, if you said nothing to upset her?”
“All right, I may have asked her about the other night, which was perfectly acceptable considering the circumstances,” he defended himself.
“I thought I was going to find out more about her, and then you would talk with her?”
“I don't remember us discussing that.”
“It was what I gathered from our discussion. But as you have now frightened her off, then you shall have to find her and apologize. “
She spoke out the side of her mouth.
“I'm your brother. Shouldn't you be on my side?” he groused.
“I can't help you with her if you don't tell me what happened,” Essie said in her calm, rational voice.
“How do you know I need help?”
“You're strung tighter than a piano wire.”
“Lord, I wish I had kept my mouth shut,” he groaned.
He watched the sweetest of the Sinclair siblings narrow her eyes in a calculating manner.
“If you will alert me when Sir Richard Kimpton is heading in my direction, I shall tell you where I last saw her.”
“I thought we were not using our senses in public?” This time Dev looked smug.
“That's the deal, brother. I cannot abide that windbag Kimpton, and his breath is quite foul.”
“Shall I warn him off you, sister?” Dev looked around the room and found Kimpton several feet away, fast approaching.
“No indeed, I can do that. But it would be easier if I had warning and could duck out of sight.”
“Deal.”
“Miss Braithwaite left the room through that door,” she pointed over Dev's shoulder, “ten minutes ago.”
“Kimpton is approaching fast on your left.”
“Love you, brother.”
“And you, sister.”
They parted. Dev headed for the door and slipped through. Switching his vision now that he was away from several hundred brightly clad people, he began walking the halls.
He saw colors behind doors, some extremely close to each other, which suggested more than just chatting was taking place. Continuing on, he found a set of stairs and descended; at the bottom he found another door, and this one led to a conservatory.
The smell of flowers and trees, both citrus and garden variety, hit him. Cam would love this place. He found Lilliana Braithwaite at the rear, tucked behind a large statue of a Roman gentleman wearing a brief loincloth.
“Hide-and-seek is a particular favorite of my family. Perhaps you would care to join us one day for a game?” Dev said, blocking her escape route.
“Lord Sinclair!”
“The very person.”
“What are you doing here?”
She was attempting to appear calm and find that blank look and insipid smile she usually had on her face when he saw her. However, this time, he could see nerves were making that difficult.
“I was looking for my dance partner, Miss Braithwaite.”
“Oh well, yes, of course. Good Lord, is it that time already? I had simply hoped for a short respite from the ballroom, and had not realized the hour had advanced so.”
As far as lies went it was a good one, yet a lie nonetheless. Dev was slowly coming to the conclusion that the woman was very good at hiding behind what she wanted people to believe she was, when in fact she was far different.
“Do you wear those to see near or far?”
His question about her spectacles threw her off her stride further.
“I—ah... both.”
Dev bent closer and looked through them. He saw the glass was plain, just like his bedroom window. The glasses were part of her disguise.
“They do not appear overly strong.”
“Th-they are strong enough.”
She snatched them from her face and cleaned them furiously with her gloved fingers.
“Oh dear.”
“What?” She looked up at him quickly, and he was able to see her eyes clearly once more. Dev felt something settle heavily in his chest as he studied her delicate features.
“Your eyes are an unusual color.”
“I-I am happy with them.”
“Yes, they are lovely.” She really was beautiful, right down to the sweet bow of her upper lip. How the hell had she fooled them all for so long?
“If you will not dance with me, will you come out from behind that statue and tell me what it was that I stumbled across two nights ago?”
“No. However, I would be happy to give you a tour of the conservatory. There is a splendid display of orchids, some quite rare. There is one that is over—”
“I will not be deterred, Miss Braithwaite, so you had best come clean.”
“I have no wish to talk of that matter, as I told you earlier, Lord Sinclair.”
“Then it appears we are at an impasse. I wish to know and you will not tell me. You wish me gone from here; I wish to stay.”
“I overheard your sisters once telling someone that you were a good and fair man.”
“That was nice of them.”
“They said no woman would ever have anything to fear from you.”
“I am trying very hard to imagine what conversation prompted those particular compliments from my sisters. I can only suspect that such nice words were from Essex, and surely I had done something wonderful to get into her good graces.”
Her lips pursed, and he saw that she was getting angry but fighting hard to stay in character.
“The point I am trying to make, Lord Sinclair, is that I have no wish to tell you what you want to know, and if you are the gentleman your sisters believe, then you should not force me.”
She was clever; he'd give her that.
“Were my sisters the ones walking about London streets at such an hour, chasing men with dubious intentions and rescuing a child I suspect lives on those streets, I assure you I would be questioning them the same way.”
She wasn't scared of him, Dev realized, only of what he may learn.
“I am nothing to you.”
“Not quite true, but I take your point. However, after saving you from certain
death—”
“Neither Leo nor I would have died from falling on the road,” she scoffed.
“You are certainly as ungrateful as my sisters.”
He saw the small twitch of her lips, and with it came a flash of two dimples he had not known she had. It was yet another glimpse into the woman society knew nothing of.
“Should someone chance upon us, Lord Sinclair, the results would not please either of us; therefore I would ask you to let me pass.”
He knew her words for the truth and yet he could not draw away. Lifting a hand, he traced the bruise marring the pale skin of her jaw. She felt warm to touch and the effect on his body was instant. Every nerve end stood, every pulse thrummed.
“Can we be friends, Miss Braithwaite?”
“No.”
The word made her pout. Just a taste, a small brush of his mouth against hers, and this madness inside him would ease.
“No.” She shook her head as he lowered his. “I don't—”
He swallowed the rest of her words. Dev was gentle, placing small kisses on her lips, each one opening them bit by bit, until she gave him what he wanted. She had the most kissable lips, full against his and shaped to perfection, and in seconds all thought of this being a brief interlude fled from his head.
Had someone doused him in fire he would not have moved. The immediate and powerful reaction he suddenly felt shocked him to his toes. It was as if she touched him everywhere, yet in truth the only skin he could access was her face and lips. It was enough to tell him that when he got this woman undressed and beneath him, theirs would be a fierce passion.
Lilly had never been properly kissed before. There been several pathetic attempts by men who had drunk too much or declared they were enamored by her, which was of course untrue. She’d soon taught them the error of their ways, but this.... Dear God, this was a slow seduction of the senses.
His mouth, which she had previously believed hard, was soft and wicked as it kissed and nibbled hers. She could do nothing to stop the shameful flood of heat that filled her body. It was as if she had relinquished control of herself to him, as if her body were now his to command.
Of their own volition, her arms moved up his body and her fingers dug into the hard muscles on his shoulders. For a brief moment, she almost wished she did not wear gloves, so she could explore the soft hair at his nape.
“Open for me, Lilliana.”
The deep rasp of his words brushed her lips, and she found herself doing as he asked. Felt herself arch into his body, press her breasts against his chest as she sought more from him. More contact, more kisses.
One of his hands cupped her head and angled it so the kiss deepened; the other he kept around her waist, holding her close.
“Lilliana.”
“Yes,” she whispered against his lips, uncertain what he asked for or what she needed.
His mouth moved to her jaw, kissing the length to her ear, and then he pressed his lips to that place just beneath, where her neck started, and the fire inside her grew. Such a small place, and yet when touched in the right way, by the right man, it was alarmingly sensitive. Lilly managed to swallow her cry of regret when he lifted his head.
She drew in an unsteady breath as he stepped back and away from her.
“Please forgive me. I-I had no right to do that, Miss Braithwaite.”
His breathing was as heavy as hers, and she saw that he was as disturbed by the kiss as she.
“I-I don't know what to say to you,” she whispered truthfully. “This, it should not have happened, and I'm not sure why it did.”
Lilly braced herself as he closed the distance between them once more.
“You are a beautiful woman.” He cupped her cheek.
Lilly shook her head. “No, I am not. I'm ugly. Just ask any man in that ballroom.”
“But you are not ugly, are you, Lilliana? In fact you are beautiful, and yet you take great pains that no one sees that beauty.”
No, no, no. How did he know she took great pains to hide from society?
“I have no idea to what you allude, Lord Sinclair. This entire situation has gotten completely out of hand, and it must stop. What happened the other night was the catalyst, and let me say once more that I have no wish to speak of it further, and this”—Lilly waved her hand between them—”is momentary madness, which will pass.”
Before he could speak, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed. He moved, but only, she suspected, because he wished to. Then she was walking from the room. Lilly wanted to run, but made herself walk.
Reaching the door to the ballroom minutes later, she slipped inside, now composed. Well, outwardly at least.
“Miss Braithwaite, how wonderful, I have been looking everywhere for you. Come, we will go to supper together as we have both missed the supper dance, and quite frankly there is not one person I wish to converse with who will aid my digestion.”
Of course the last person she wanted to sit with was one of his sisters, and yet she could find no way to escape Essex Sinclair.
“Thank you, that would be lovely.”
“We shall find somewhere quiet. I have some questions about the knitting I am doing, as I believe you also knit for the children. Different styles that I think will help the children through the winter months.”
Lilly drew in a deep breath as Essex started chattering about the children. She nodded and smiled when appropriate, and tried to ignore the tingling in her breasts and heat that flushed her body. Essex had no idea that minutes ago Lilly had been locked in a heated embrace in the arms of her eldest brother. In fact, she doubted anyone would believe it, even if she climbed onto the supper table and yelled the words to every guest. She was struggling with it herself.
It had been madness; nothing else could explain that frenzied need inside her to be consumed by the man. She'd never felt such raw emotion before. Lilly had never thought of herself as passionate-natured, but right at that moment, there on the cold stone floor, she would have allowed that man any liberties he wished with her person.
“Hello, Cam.”
“Essex, Miss Braithwaite.”
Lilly nodded to the Sinclair male as they took seats close to where he sat with a young lady.
“I shall get us some food, if you will sit here, Miss Braithwaite.”
“Oh, I can get mine.”
“Yes, I know, but then someone may take our seats,” Essex said before walking off.
The family, Lilly thought, were all quite authoritative in their own way.
Had she responded with such abandon simply because he was handsome, and no handsome man had ever paid her any attention? Not that she wanted attention. But yes, surely that was it, Lilly reasoned, relieved to have worked through why she had behaved in such a way. Feeling better, she even smiled as Essex Sinclair arrived back at her side with a plate of food.
“I was wondering if perhaps I could drop some more things around to Temple Street one day, Miss Braithwaite?”
Suddenly the food tasted like ashes in her mouth.
She looked at Essex Sinclair. The green eyes were not as vibrant as her brother’s, and the hair not quite as dark, but there was little doubting the blood tie.
“I—ah, Temple Street?”
“I saw you entering there when last I had some things to deliver. I took them myself as I was heading that way. I thought that perhaps you were in some way involved? Perhaps your family owns the house?”
“Oh, yes of course.”
“Forgive me. You seem uncomfortable with my questions.”
Stay calm, Lilly. Because one person knows you visit Temple Street, does not mean anyone else does.
“I am involved, yes, but prefer to keep my involvement a secret.”
Why was her life suddenly so complicated? First this business with Lord Sinclair, and then with his sister. She had managed to keep her secrets close until these people entered her life.
“Oh, of course, and your secret is safe with me, I assure you. Indeed, I have several secrets I have no wish for anyone to hear.”
Lilly couldn't imagine what this woman could possibly have to hide.
“Excellent. I would be most grateful if you would do so.”
“I assume the house is for the children in some capacity?”
“Yes, we treat any sick children there and offer beds and food for those in need.”
“How wonderful.” Essex looked genuinely interested. “Is there a possibility that I may call around there sometime, and drop off the things I have for the children? I would also like to offer my help if a child is sick or injured. I have quite a bit of knowledge in that direction.”
Lilly wondered if this was what it was like being stomped over by a herd of cats. These Sinclairs did not seem to understand the word no, and gently but forcefully persisted until they got the answers they sought. However, she was surprised that a woman of noble birth knew about healing, and while she had no wish for Essex Sinclair to know too much about her life, she was not one to look away from such an opportunity. The children were often sick enough to warrant calling for a doctor, and yet most doctors had no wish to treat children like the ones who frequented Temple Street.
“Yes, well, if you wish.”
“Excellent. I shall await word from you as to what day suits you best.”
Biting into a savory, Lilly contemplated how she was to bring her life back under control and eradicate Lord Sinclair from it. Many hours later, when she was lying in her bed, she was no closer to finding the answer.