Love's Peril (Lord Trent Series) (40 page)

“This is Fanny,”Phillip said. “She’s Michael’s wife and one of your sisters.”

“Hello, Fanny.” John’s expression was cool, giving nothing away.

“Oh, John,”Fanny gushed, “it’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

John didn’t respond to Fanny’s warm salutation, and Miss Teasdale elbowed him in the ribs, which jolted him into a reaction.

“Thank you for having me.”

Miss Teasdale grinned up at John, looking mischievous and pleased. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No”—John smiled, appearing embarrassed—“that wasn’t so hard.”

“He was afraid to come,”Miss Teasdale brazenly explained.

“Sarah…”he scolded. “This is awkward enough. Don’t make it worse by telling our secrets.”

“He didn’t think you really wanted to know him.”

“Not
know
him?” Fanny scowled. “Are you mad?” She stepped to John so they were toe to toe. “I am the first of Charles’s children that Phillip managed to locate. I’m the first to discover how marvelous it is to belong. Welcome home, my long-lost brother. Welcome to our family. You’ll never be alone again. I swear it to you.”

Without waiting to be asked, without questioning whether an embrace would be allowed, she wrapped her arms around John’s waist and hugged him as tightly as she could.

For a moment, he hesitated, his consternation evident, then he draped his arms across her shoulders and hugged her back.

Miss Teasdale beamed with delight. “I knew everything would be all right. I just knew it.”

* * * *

John stood on the verandah at the rear of Phillip’s house. It was nearing midnight, supper over, the evening winding to an end.

He felt as if he was in the middle of a strange dream, where he was confronted by people who looked just like him, and there was an important message being presented, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

Phillip and Fanny had shared the tale of how they’d met, the damage Charles had caused to their mothers, the lives they’d led after their mothers perished. John hadn’t supplied many details about his own sorry history, about Florence, how mad she’d been or how terribly she’d suffered because of it.

But Sarah had provided them with other facts that he, himself, wouldn’t have mentioned. John never revealed information about himself to anyone. He’d been engaged in criminal activity for two decades so furtiveness was ingrained in his nature. It was odd to have Sarah openly discuss him, to hear her view of who he was.

She’d told many anecdotes about him, and the world hadn’t stopped spinning, so maybe there was hope for some normalcy in his future.

Or maybe not.

Since he’d been set free, he couldn’t come to grips with who he was supposed to be. He’d been ready to be executed, but hadn’t been. As a result of the trial, his identity as The French Terror had been wiped away as if it had never been. Who was he now? If The French Terror no longer existed, who was to take his place?

He was aimless and adrift, as if he was out on the ocean with no sail or paddle and no ability to maneuver to shore.

Sarah stepped outside and walked over to him. The evening had given him an interesting glimpse of her. In their previous acquaintance, they’d spent most of their time alone or wallowing in indecent conduct. It was intriguing to see her chat and mingle, to make friends and win people over with her sunny disposition.

He’d watched the others to deduce what they thought of Sarah, and it was clear she’d surprised them. They must have assumed he’d bring a doxy like Annalise into their midst, and it had been humorous to peek around the table and find that they were charmed by her.

While they were wealthier than she was, her background was similar to theirs. Very British. Very traditional. She’d easily fit in and been accepted as one of them.
He
was the one who had been uncomfortable and out of his element, but then, he’d always felt that way. As if he didn’t belong. As if he was the outcast looking in.

“I like your family,”she said, snuggling herself to him.

“I like them, too.”

“Phillip is just like you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” She rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

“Proud? Why?”

“This was very difficult for you.”

“I expected it would be, but it turned out fine.”

“I’m so glad you mustered the courage to come.”

“And I’m glad you accompanied me. If you’d refused, I probably wouldn’t have bothered.”

“So what now? You’ll keep in touch with them, won’t you?”

“I suppose,”but he didn’t know if he would.

It was all too much to absorb. The happy siblings. The married couples. The children—nieces and nephews with more on the way over the years. He had no idea how to be part of a family and had always disparaged that sort of bond.

“I have a question,”Sarah said. “I’ve been dying with curiosity.”

“About what?”

“At the trial, your father whispered something to you. What was it?”

“He said he was going to save my damn life and that I’d better shut my mouth and let him.”

She laughed and laughed, her merriment washing over him like cool rain.

“I went to him,”she said. “I found out where he lived, and I shamelessly knocked on his door and begged him to intervene on your behalf. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I knew.”

“I like him.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“He helped you, so he’s my favorite person in the world. Besides you, that is.”

He snorted and draped an arm over her shoulder, nestling her close. Anymore, it didn’t seem as if he was actually tethered to the earth. She kept him attached, and if he wasn’t holding on to her, he suspected he might simply float off into the sky.

“I wish he’d stopped by,”she wistfully mused.

“Gad, I don’t. The man is a menace.”

“He’s just like you.”

“There you go. We hardly need two of
me
in attendance at any event.”

“You should spend some time with him. You have to come to terms.”

“I’ve had plenty of bonding for one evening. This should last me for awhile.”

He glanced over to the French windows as a woman emerged from the parlor. At first, he thought it was his sister Fanny, but quickly, he saw that it was Harriet. She and her twin sister Helen had been invited, but hadn’t appeared. Until now.

John understood their reluctance and wasn’t upset by their absence. He was still amazed that Harriet had testified for him and wasn’t sure why she had. She’d done more than enough and further interaction wasn’t necessary.

As to Tristan and James, he wasn’t in the mood for any posturing, so he was relieved they’d stayed away. The waters of a relationship with them weren’t ready to be tested.

What would they talk about? How crazed Florence had been? How many bad decisions she’d made?

John wouldn’t discuss her with them. His opinion about her many flaws and weaknesses were his own business and no one else’s. Especially not James and Tristan Harcourt who had always assumed the worst of her.

Sarah saw Harriet too, and Harriet’s nervousness was abundantly clear. Sarah slipped out of John’s arms and went over to her.

“Harriet!”she exclaimed. “You’re here.”

“Hello, Sarah.”

They clasped hands and hugged as if they were old friends.

“I can’t believe you came,”Sarah said.

“I hadn’t planned on it.” There was an awkward moment, then Harriet asked, “Could I…ah…speak to Mr. Sinclair for a minute?”

“Of course, of course,”Sarah escorted Harriet over. “And you must call him John.
Mr. Sinclair
is ridiculously formal.” Sarah turned to him. “John, you remember Harriet, don’t you?”

How could I forget?
he wanted to say, but didn’t.

Without a second of remorse, he’d tried to kill her and her husband. Fate and a good deal of luck had saved them. Was he forgiven? Did he wish to be forgiven?

He hadn’t had sufficient tutoring in this type of social situation. Could a brother become cordial with a sister he’d almost murdered? At being thrust into her company, he felt ashamed and baffled as to how he should act.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Sarah flashed him a telling glare, as if warning him to be kind, to behave, then she hurried inside.

“Hello, Harriet,”he murmured once the quiet had settled. “Or should I call you Mrs. Harcourt?”

“Harriet is fine, Mr. Sinclair.”

“Please call me John—as Sarah suggested. Or Jean Pierre. Either will work.”

“I’ll stick with John. The name Jean Pierre conjures up some awful memories.”

He was bewildered as to how he should converse with her, so he dawdled like an imbecile, staring, wondering at the strength of Charles’s bloodlines. How could there be people in the world who were so similar to himself, but John had lived thirty years without crossing paths with any of them? It boggled the mind.

She took his wrist and spun him toward a nearby lamp, illuminating his features. She studied him as keenly as he was studying her.

“Considering the circumstances of our prior encounter,”she finally said, “you seem…different.”

“It was perhaps not one of my best nights.”

“Did you know I was your sister?”

“No”—he shook his head—“and I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was trying to kill your husband.”

“Well, that doesn’t make it any better.”

“I suppose not.”

“Are you sorry?”

He could have given a quick and flippant answer, but she appeared genuinely curious, and he felt he owed her an honest reply.

He thought and thought, struggling to recall that dark, long-ago night. He’d been trailing Harcourt’s ship for days, having watched for him when he’d first sailed out of the Thames and into the Channel.

John’s crew perpetrated swift and violent assaults that rapidly disabled their opponents. Tristan Harcourt had been asleep in his cabin, taken off guard and completely overwhelmed, his initial indication of trouble being the canon blast that had knocked down his main mast.

But after the preliminary foray, after John had boarded the vessel, Tristan had turned out to be one of John’s fiercest adversaries ever. He’d battled like a berserker to save his men and his cargo and—John presumed—to save Harriet, the true jewel hidden below decks.

Tristan and John had been of equal size and dexterity, of equal skill with a sword. It had been a fight to the death, with John getting lucky at the end, but of course, Tristan could never have won it. Had he gained any ground against John, Raven would have slain him. But still, Tristan had been brave and loyal and devoted to Harriet and his crew.

John respected him for that. He didn’t like him any more than he ever had, but he greatly respected him. As a sailor. As a brawler.

Ultimately, he shrugged. “I don’t think I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “I had to ask.”

“I was very angry.”

“You certainly were.”

It had all occurred so far in the past, and there had been so many raids. It almost seemed as if someone else had attacked Tristan Harcourt. If John was suddenly apprised that some other dastardly fellow had tried to murder Tristan, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Thank you for testifying,”he said.

“Sarah convinced me. And Charles. I never can say
no
to him.”

“It was very bold of you to come—and very kind.”

“I couldn’t let you hang.” She appeared mystified over her willingness to help. “Have you met Charles?”

“Yes.”

“It’s odd, isn’t it? Realizing he’s your father?”

“Yes, it’s very odd.”

They shared a sad smile.

“I’m still learning my way with him,”Harriet admitted. “How about you?”

“I’ve become as closely acquainted as I’d like to be.”

“You don’t wish to know him better? You don’t hope to gain his approval or win his understanding?”

He probably did. When he was around Charles, he was like that ten-year-old orphan who’d kept waiting for Charles to ride to the rescue. Yet he said, “I needed him to supply things when I was a boy and my mother died. There’s not much he could give me at this late date that I would appreciate.”

“What now, John? You’re not interested in having a relationship with Charles. What about the rest of us? Will you stay in England? Will we be friends?”

“I don’t know. It’s all a bit much for me to take in.”

“Yes, I suppose it would be. Are you finished with pirating? I’d hate to have gone out on a limb for you only to have you attack some other poor female out on the high seas.”

“I believe I’m done,”he carefully stated.

He wasn’t positive he meant it, but it felt grand to tell her he’d stopped. Except that he’d been The French Terror for so long. The criminal identity was part and parcel of who he was. If he wasn’t a dangerous pirate, who was he and how would he carry on? Would he marry a girl from a rural village in the country and be a husband and farmer?

The notion didn’t bear contemplating, and he could scarcely tamp down a shudder of dread.

“I heard that you’re engaged to Sarah,”she said.

“I am.”

“I’m glad. I like her.”

“So do I.”

“She’ll be good for you.”

“More than I deserve, that’s for certain.”

“Yes, much more than you deserve,”she baldly agreed. She stared, as if checking for flaws and finding many.

“You’re watching me so intently,”he said. “What are you hoping to discover?”

“I’m trying to figure out why I keep bothering with you.”

“I can’t figure it out myself.”

“When Sarah asked me to testify, I couldn’t imagine why I would. My husband and I—well, let’s just say he had a fit when we discussed it.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“And then there’s this supper. Phillip and Fanny invited me, but I couldn’t see any reason to attend.”

“But you came anyway.”

“Yes, which precipitated another quarrel with my husband. Are you worth it?”

“I’m sure I wasn’t.”

“I couldn’t abide that you were in prison all alone. I didn’t want you to climb to the gallows without a friendly face in the crowd.”

“I was ready for that end. I’ve always been on my own, so I wouldn’t have fretted.”