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Authors: Elizabeth Squire

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BOOK: Closer To Sin
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Sinclair hastily circled to the other side. ‘Fine, but you’d better be bloody sure she’s not carrying my babe before you complete the deed.’

Nate straightened and stared at Sinclair, shock etched in every facet of his face. ‘You fucking bastard.’ He turned and paced across the room to his desk and bowed over it like a broken man.

Sinclair stood watching him, breathing heavily as the minutes stretched out.

When Nate turned back around the fury had gone, but his disappointment was a harder hit for Sinclair to take.

‘Sit down, I’m not going to hurt you. Just tell me what you mean by all this.’

Chapter Seventeen

Sinclair waited until Nate wearily dropped onto one of the leather chairs before cautiously seating himself opposite him.

‘After Rotheram put me ashore from the
Dreadnaught
, I arranged to meet Solange Beaumont at her local tavern. She was supposed to accompany me south to Boulogne, stopping at various places along the way to interview informants and the like. You know, the usual routine.’

Sinclair tentatively rubbed his cheek.
Damn it hurt
. ‘When I arrived she had Liliane with her. Solange explained Liliane was being indoctrinated into the family trade and would accompany me on this particular mission. I was assured she had full access to all of Solange’s contacts.’

Nate arose from his chair and poured them each a fresh measure of brandy. His face was bloodless and his movements stilted. Handing Sinclair his drink, he indicated for him to continue.

‘I wasn’t particularly happy with the arrangements,’ Sinclair shrugged. ‘You know how I hate plans being changed without any consultation, yet I agreed to take Liliane with me. Believe it or not, she’d make a great agent, she has some very good instincts.’

Nate gave Sinclair a dubious look. ‘And how did you come to be married to her?’

Sinclair paused to ensure Nate was not about to start throttling him again. ‘After receiving Sir Avery’s missive informing me of Gareth’s disappearance, I began to hear a lot of gossip about a potential re-formation of the Jacobin movement, which led us to pay a visit to Basile Deneux—you know of him?’

Nate nodded in response to the question.

‘It was while we were at Deneux’s that Liliane encountered a Hussar officer talking to the housekeeper. Gaston had warned me the militia was searching for an English spy but I don’t know whether it was coincidence or not that led De Bois to be there that day.’ Prudently, Sinclair decided to leave out the details of that intimate night spent alone in the shepherd’s hut.

‘The following day we ran into De Bois’s patrol.’ Sinclair cast Nate a resigned look. ‘Your niece can be a little impetuous. She announced she was enceinte and we were eloping to Boulogne to be wed. I’m almost certain De Bois suspected me of being his target—he tried to call my bluff by insisting he escort us to Boulogne and see to the preparations of the wedding himself. I doubt he was prepared for our cooperation, but it served to throw him off the scent. However, we were compelled to wed.’

Sinclair ended his explanation there. Opposite him, Nate didn’t move; he studied Sinclair with unwavering intentness until he felt he was back in the head master’s office being subjected to an interrogation of his latest crimes. Except Sinclair had learnt early that it didn’t pay to be the first to break the silence.

Nate dropped his head and covered his eyes with his hands. ‘Esselton, I have seen you lie our way out of some tight situations in our day. But nothing comes close to the load of cods-wallop you just dished up. What makes you so damn certain that Liliane Beaumont and my niece is the same woman?’

‘You tell me, Martinbury. What makes you so sure she isn’t?’ What a bloody mess.

‘That’s the problem, Sin, I’m in no doubt whatsoever. Solange Beaumont’s mother was Liliane’s paternal aunt.’

The two men sat wordlessly staring at each other. Finally, Nate broke the silence. ‘And just when had you planned to tell me you’d married a French girl, for all intents and purposes a French agent?’

Sinclair laughed dryly. ‘I hadn’t. I was going back to France in September to meet with her and arrange for an annulment.’ He shrugged. ‘To set things to rights.’


Fuck—
’ Nate leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. ‘It all makes so much sense now. Liliane’s determination not to become betrothed before the end of the Season, her insistence she not marry until Christmas at the earliest, her request to travel to France to visit with her cousin. But how the hell did she end up there in the first place?’

***

Liliane awoke with a pounding head. Throwing back the blankets, she reluctantly pulled herself from bed and wandered over to stand before the dresser. Marthe had obviously been in earlier and tidied up her room. She’d even left a pot of tea and a basket of pastries, not that she was hungry. The thought of trying to eat anything was enough to have her stomach clench in protest.

Summoning Marthe, she dressed in a cheery lemon-coloured muslin gown and quickly fixed her hair in a loose chignon before grabbing her reticule and heading downstairs for the appointed meeting.

‘Take a seat,’ her uncle instructed, pointing to a lone chair positioned to be the focus of all others. With uncompromising intentness, Lady Carrick, Nate and Sin all sat looking towards her. Yvette sat stoically beside the Dowager, a handkerchief twisting in her hands.

Liliane flinched as her uncle launched the first salvo. ‘I would like to introduce you to a friend and colleague of mine, Lord Sinclair Charlcroft, Marquis Esselton. I believe you have an acquaintance with him.’

Liliane clasped her trembling hands in her lap and looked towards Sin. What right did he have to look so composed, sitting there impeccably dressed in his buff coloured breeches and navy blue coat? Reluctantly, she nodded. ‘Yes, Uncle Nate, ah, your Grace.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Although not in the capacity to which you just referred.’

Nate raised an eyebrow in warning. ‘Do you wish to elaborate upon the nature of that acquaintance?’

She lifted her chin in defiance and sought to recall what Solange had instructed her to do should she be captured and questioned. Ah, yes, deny, deny, deny, counter accuse. They’d probably moved well past the point of denial, but counter accusations still sat fairly and squarely upon the table.

She directed her gaze at Sin. ‘I expect you’ve already been apprised of the events that took place in France. I, however, wish to know what a peer of the realm was doing portraying himself as a French peasant, engaging in deception and keeping company with spies and agents of espionage?’

Sin laughed, his mouth curling into a sneer. ‘Peasant,
mon fleur
? My, we are feeling a touch piqued after our late night.’

Nate shot an annoyed look at Sin. ‘Liliane, the Marquis’s activities are not your concern and are far from relevant to this meeting. Now, answer my question. How is it that you came to be in France?’

Not relevant? It was the whole bloody reason why she was now in this mess. ‘I bribed a fishing smack to take me there. Great-Aunt Woolner believed I was with Yvette at Manning Grange, resting before we were to join her in London for the start of the Season. Yvette dismissed the servants and sent them on a fortnight’s holiday so no one would notice my absence. But that’s inconsequential. Why was he there?’


You did not—
’ Lady Carrick denied. ‘No lady of good birth would ever consider such a thing.’

Nate glowered at Liliane, ignoring her comment about Sin’s presence in France. ‘Just where did this fishing smack depart from?’

‘Folkestone.’

‘The
Lady Boadicea
,’ Sinclair quietly stated.

‘What?’ Liliane spluttered.

‘You were on the
Lady Boadicea
, in the Channel. The night of the storm.’

Nate rounded on Sin. ‘You knew about this, Esselton?’

‘We boarded a fishing smack that was way beyond the fishing grounds. Some gnarly little skipper in a boat with the unlikely name of
Lady Boadicea
. Damned odd I thought at the time—couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up—but we couldn’t find anything.’ Sin looked at Liliane, considering.

Liliane gasped. ‘I was hiding in the forward hold—I saw a caped man standing on the deck. That was you?’

‘Let’s call it fate, my love.’

‘Your insolence is intolerable, Esselton, how dare you address her in those terms!’ Lady Carrick demanded. ‘Apologise this instant.’

‘Ah my Lady, your esteemed opinion of me warms my heart,’ Sin returned.

‘Esselton,’ Nate warned before returning his attention to Liliane. ‘So, having journeyed to France on the
Lady Boadicea
, how did you come to be married to Lord Esselton.’

Yvette gasped loudly. ‘Married?’ She stood up. ‘Liliane, what have you done?’

‘I am not married to Lord Esselton,’ Liliane refuted, not daring to look at her cousin.

Sin laughed loudly.

‘Young lady, are you saying this man has lied to us?’ Lady Carrick demanded.

‘Explain yourself, Esselton,’ Nate challenged.

‘Oh, we’re married alright,’ Sin blandly stated.

‘No, I married a Monsieur St Clair. Hence, the marriage is not valid—and we planned to have it annulled, so it doesn’t count,’ Liliane reasoned, praying for all she was worth that she was correct.

Sin sat back in his chair, crossed his legs and began to examine his finger nails. ‘It’s valid,
mon fleur
, in every which way, have no fear about that.’

Lady Carrick let out a shriek. ‘Are you telling me you’ve consummated this marriage?’

Sin shrugged. ‘I don’t believe I was telling
you
anything Lady Carrick.’

Liliane blanched as her Great-Aunt turned to her. This conversation was fast slipping out of her control.

‘Have you had relations with this man? Answer me, this instant, my girl!’ the Dowager Countess demanded in a tightly controlled voice.

‘I don’t believe it’s your concern, my Lady, and I bid you not to question
my wife
on the matter any further,’ Sin levelled at her in a threatening tone.

‘You
will not
speak to me like that, Esselton. Now answer my question, Liliane.’

Liliane tremulously nodded her head.

‘You have ruined this girl, Esselton. I promised Freddy Parkes he would have my blessing—no one will consent to have her now,’ the outraged Dowager shrieked.

‘Aunt, I don’t believe you have the authority to promise Liliane’s hand in marriage to anyone. That decision is mine alone,’ Nate calmly pointed out.

‘We resolved the matter of my betrothal to Freddy Parkes two days ago, ma’am. I don’t wish to marry him, he’s a pompous bore.’ Liliane couldn’t contain the quaver in her voice.

‘You will speak of your betrothed with respect, my girl,’ Great-Aunt Woolner shot back at her.

‘How can he be her betrothed when she’s my wife? I believe we have laws against that sort of behaviour in this country,’ Sin idly stated.

‘Now you be quiet, Esselton. You were a troublesome lad, and now you’re an indolent waste and a drain on the realm. I always said you would visit ruin upon this family.’

Liliane bit her bottom lip.
My goodness, Great-Aunt Woolner really didn’t like Sin.

‘Please explain, my Lady, how marriage to a Marquis can bring ruin upon a lady?’

Great-Aunt Woolner’s face turned an alarming shade of puce before she collapsed in an ungainly heap upon the Chesterfield. No one paid her any attention.

‘Where did you marry my niece, Esselton?’ Nate demanded, the steel edge in his voice igniting an inferno of dread deep in Liliane’s belly.

‘We were married by the Lord Mayor of Boulogne-Sur-Mer. If you care to pay him a visit, you’ll find the marriage entered into his register under the names of Charles St Clair and Liliane Beaumont.’

‘I told you it wasn’t valid,’ Liliane interjected.

‘Liliane, that is enough!’ the Duke of Martinbury roared. ‘You are not permitted to utter another word without my giving you leave to do so. Furthermore, upon termination of this interview, you shall pack your bags and return to Manning Grange, forthwith.’

‘Actually, Martinbury,’ Sin drawled. ‘I don’t believe you have the right to decree that.’

‘What do you mean, Esselton? I’m her legal guardian and if I choose to banish her to a convent for the foreseeable future, or the rest of her natural life for that matter, I shall do so.’

Liliane clasped her hands tightly on her lap. Her uncle’s handsome features were flushed and an errant vein pulsed heavily at his temple. This interview had degenerated into a farce with everyone yelling and demanding answers. A glance out of the corner of her eye warned her that Great-Aunt Woolner was priming herself for another attack.

Sin looked at Liliane steadily as he answered Nate’s question. ‘As I understand it, your guardianship ceases upon her marriage. Ergo, a husband’s rights take precedence.’

Liliane slumped back in her seat as all hell broke loose.

Great-Aunt Woolner came to her feet and unleashed a vitriolic barrage of complaints pertaining to every misdemeanour Sin had ever committed from the year 1790 to the current day.

Nate roared over the top of his Aunt, demanding her to step aside so that he could get his hands around the throat of the most cowardly, cretinous excuse for a gentleman he had ever met and put an end to his sorry life once and for all.

Sin continued to study his finger nails and Yvette quietly left the room.

That was enough of that. Liliane stood up and walked to where she had placed her reticule by the door. She picked it up and drew the drawstrings open. Before leaving her bed chamber, she’d deposited in it the one item she’d forgotten to return to Sin prior to her departure from France. She withdrew the article in question and held it aloft.

A blast reverberated throughout the room and all occupants froze as white plaster rained down from the ceiling. As one they looked to Liliane to see her standing by the door holding a pistol above her head.

‘I was going to return this to you today,’ she quietly addressed Sin. ‘But I think I shall hold onto it for a while longer. It’s become apparent I may still have a use for it.’ To the others she calmly stated, ‘Perhaps now, you would like to listen to me.’

BOOK: Closer To Sin
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