Love's Peril (Lord Trent Series) (8 page)

She kept delaying her answer, kept praying an alternative would present itself, but it was silly to dither. She had no dowry, so there was no handsome suitor who would ride up the drive and rescue her.

Sheldon was the only one who had offered. He was the only one who was willing to have her. Why couldn’t she say
yes
? What was wrong with her?

“I’ve been avoiding the supper table,”she explained. “Would you think I was horrid if I confessed that I don’t care for Mildred’s guests?”

“I didn’t much enjoy them either.”

“I stay away so I don’t embarrass myself by being rude.”

“That Sinclair fellow was all right, but Mr. Hook was odd and disconcerting. He looked utterly dangerous. And Miss Dubois, well, the less said about her, the better.”

“I agree completely.”

“Why are they here?”

“Mr. Sinclair claims he’s viewing property in the area.”

“With an eye toward buying?”

“I guess.”

“They might eventually be our neighbors?”

“I wouldn’t want to speculate, but it seems likely.”

He chuckled. “The annual Christmas dance at the church would certainly be more lively with those three in attendance.”

Sarah chuckled, too. “It certainly would be. If Miss Dubois sauntered in, the vicar would have an apoplexy.”

They snickered, then quieted, Sheldon sipping his nightly brandy. He always had precisely one glass after supper, but Sarah didn’t join in. He didn’t countenance women imbibing of spirits, and even though Sarah rarely drank, his prohibition made her eager to grab the bottle and down the contents—just to spite him.

“Have you thought about our last conversation?”he said, and her heart sank.

She’d hoped to slog through the evening without marriage being mentioned, but he was growing impatient.

“My feelings haven’t changed, Sheldon. I wish you’d go to town and interview other candidates. There are so many ladies who would be delighted by your interest. I can’t decide, and it’s unfair for you to have to wait on me.”

“You know I hate London, and at my age, I’m not about to run around, trying to charm some girl whose family I’ve never met. You and I are well-suited. I’m accustomed to you, and there would be no surprises.”

“No, there wouldn’t be,”which was the main problem.

She really and truly suspected—if she wed him—she’d die of boredom, but she couldn’t get him to shift his attention. He expected his constant visits to generate enthusiasm, but with his intractability and her equivocation, each discussion was more unpleasant.

Motion out on the verandah distracted her, and she glanced out to see Mr. Hook lazily balanced on the balustrade. Mr. Sinclair walked up to him, and they whispered like conspirators, their heads close so they wouldn’t be overheard.

It was dark outside, a few lamps burning in the garden. The dim light glinted off his blond hair, shrouding him in a golden halo so he was even more striking.

Since he’d sneaked into her bedchamber the previous evening, she hadn’t been able to think of anything but him. She was awhirl with memories: how he’d smelled, how he’d felt when he took her in his arms and kissed her.

She shouldn’t have let him, but where he was concerned, she was overly attracted and couldn’t behave. Like a besotted girl, she’d spent the day trying to cross paths with him, but he’d been conspicuously absent. He’d said he was leaving soon, and she couldn’t imagine him going without her furthering their acquaintance.

He appeared to want something from her, but she appeared to want something from him, too. What was it? Flattery? A bone of kindness thrown her way? A few compliments?

He was virile and magnificent, and observing him—while sitting with Sheldon and enduring another tedious chat—was almost painful. Yet it was beneficial, too. It solidified her decision. She’d hold out. She’d marry for love and affection, or she wouldn’t marry at all.

Mr. Sinclair whispered a final comment to Mr. Hook, then strolled away, and Sarah rose from her seat, as if hypnotized, as if she’d abandon Sheldon to chase after Mr. Sinclair.

“Honestly, Sarah,”Sheldon snapped, “have you listened to a word I’ve said?”

“I apologize, Sheldon. I’m not myself tonight. Would you like to”—she paused, struggling to devise a means of passing the time before she lost her mind—“would you like to climb to the overlook? The moon is up. The view is probably spectacular. We can take the telescope and see if there are any ships sailing by.”

He pursed his lips, his mustache quivering. “You’re aware of the trouble I have with my knees. I can’t manage the trail.”

“Yes, of course. I shouldn’t have suggested it. How about a game of cards?”

She was saved by Caroline rushing in. Her friend was agitated, her color high, her cheeks flushed bright red.

“Sarah, there you are! I’ve been searching everywhere.” She frowned at Sheldon. “Sheldon, I’m sorry, but I have to speak with Sarah. Alone.”

“What is it?”Sarah asked.

“Can you come?” Caroline gestured to the hall, her eyes flashing an urgent message.

“Sheldon, would you excuse me? I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t think you will be, Sarah,”Caroline warned.

Sarah sighed. Mildred had invited Sheldon to supper, then had vanished immediately after the meal. So she wasn’t available to entertain him.

“I’ll hurry,”she told him.

“Don’t bother.” His aggravation was clear. “Caroline has her petticoat in a wad. I’m sure it will require hours and hours to get it unraveled.”

“Sheldon…” Sarah extended a hand in supplication, but he didn’t take it.

He pushed himself to his feet. “I should head home. Make my goodbyes to Mildred, will you?”

“I will.”

“I’ll stop by tomorrow, when things are less hectic.”

He huffed out, then Caroline shut the door, assuring their privacy.

“This better be good,”Sarah said. “We’ve annoyed Sheldon, and I’ll never hear the end of it—from him or from Mildred.”

“Sheldon can choke on a crow.” Caroline had never liked the man. “You won’t believe what I just learned.”

“What?”

“I was talking to Mr. Hook out on the verandah.”

“Really, Caroline, should you socialize with him?”

“Well, we’re lucky I was.” She led Sarah to the sofa and eased them both down.

“What did he say?”

“Mr. Sinclair is a gambler.”

“Oh, no.” A sick feeling of dread surged through Sarah’s stomach. “Why do I suspect I won’t like what you’re about to tell me?”

“Hedley gambled with him. He lost and lost and lost, and finally, he bet Bramble Bay.”

“Hedley bet…Bramble Bay?”

“Yes. Mr. Sinclair won it—right down to the clothes on our backs.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, and she shook her head, wanting to deny Caroline’s words.

“No, it can’t be. It just can’t be. You must have misheard.”

“I didn’t, Sarah. He’s owned it for months, and he’s here to take possession.”

“Take…possession? He expects to move in and we are to…what? To leave?”

“Yes.”

“With a few bags over our shoulders like a pack of vagrants.”

“We won’t get to take any bags. Nothing belongs to us anymore.”

Sarah recalled her conversation with him the prior night. He’d mentioned leaving, that he’d never see her again, and she’d assumed he meant that
he
was leaving. He’d peppered her with questions about whether she had a dowry, whether she had anywhere to go if disaster struck.

She’d thought he was simply being nosy, but apparently, he’d been concerned as to what would become of her after he tossed her out of her home.

Fury sparked.

Bramble Bay had been in her family for generations. Even though Hedley had inherited it when their father died, Sarah didn’t view it as Hedley’s. Bramble Bay was
hers,
the Teasdale ancestral seat, and it wasn’t his to fritter away. Nor could Mr. Sinclair seize it with a turn of the cards.

It would be nice if such wretched conduct was illegal, but it wasn’t. The kingdom was rife with stories of ruination, of squandered fortunes and lost property. She’d never paid much heed to the woeful tales, deeming the participants to have suffered their just desserts for immoral behavior.

But now, they were dealing with
her
home,
her
world, and Hedley’s catastrophe would crush all of them—when they’d played no part in the debacle. She refused to accept such a heinous result.

“And guess what?”Caroline continued.

“What?”

“They’re gambling tonight. Here in the house.”

“Gambling? Why?”

“Hedley wants a chance to win everything back. Mr. Sinclair agreed to let him try.”

Sarah pondered foolish, spoiled Hedley, and urbane, sophisticated John Sinclair. Only an imbecile would figure it to be an even match.

“That’s insane,”Sarah fumed. “Mr. Sinclair will eat him alive.”

“I certainly think so.”

“You’re sure, Caroline? You’re not making this up?”

“As if I could invent a tragedy this horrid! I asked Mr. Hook if he’d like to stroll down to the beach, and he can’t because he’ll be busy keeping track of Mr. Sinclair’s gold coins.”

“I’m in a state of shock.”

“So am I, and listen to this: I pleaded with Mr. Hook to intervene, to dissuade Mr. Sinclair, but he said he wouldn’t because Mildred and Hedley are getting exactly what they deserve.”

“What they
deserve?
What does that mean? Prior to yesterday, I’d never seen Mr. Sinclair before in my life. How could he know enough about us to hate us?”

“I have no idea, but obviously, there are things transpiring that are beyond our imagining.”

A bit earlier, Mr. Sinclair had been out on the verandah with Mr. Hook. They’d looked guilty, like conspirators hatching a scheme, and hadn’t she felt from the very beginning that he was a dodgy fellow?

He never gave a straight answer to any question, never admitted his business or even his true name. And he was French—though he pretended not to be.

Hedley had been alone in London, where he liked to be noticed, where he liked to have others presume he was more important than he could ever be.

A fool like Hedley would be bait for a shark like Mr. Sinclair. She was convinced their meeting hadn’t been an accident. Had Mr. Sinclair specifically plotted to ruin Hedley? Or had Hedley simply been an easy mark who’d crossed Mr. Sinclair’s path at the wrong moment?

Sarah jumped to her feet.

“Where are you going?”Caroline asked.

“To find Mr. Sinclair. I have to put a stop to this.”

“How can you?’

“He’s fond of me. I’ll beg him; he’ll be merciful.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, Sarah. Mr. Hook says they’re very determined.”

Sarah started for the door just as Mildred entered the room.

“How long have you known about this?”Sarah seethed.

Panic flashed in Mildred’s eyes, but she quickly tamped it down.

“Known about what?”she blandly inquired.

“About Hedley’s gambling loss. About the fact that Mr. Sinclair owns my home.”

“It’s my home, too.”

“It was my father’s home, my ancestors’ home. Not yours.” Sarah was surprised by the venom in her voice. “You never liked it here.”

“It hardly matters now, does it? Not when it’s all gone.”

“How long have you known?”

Sarah shouted the query, her words ringing off the high ceiling. At witnessing Sarah’s rage, Mildred blanched and stepped away, which was a good thing. If she’d been within reach, Sarah might have slapped her.

“Four or five months,”Mildred baldly admitted.

“Were you ever planning to tell me?”

“I planned to tomorrow—after it was truly over.”

Sarah sagged with defeat. “What am I to do? Couldn’t you—for once in your life—have thought of me and that perhaps I could have used some time to make arrangements for myself?”

“Why haven’t I
thought
of you?”Mildred scoffed. “Why do you suppose I’ve been pleading with you to marry Sheldon? Were I you, I’d haul myself over to his house immediately and persuade him to have you while he’s still willing—for I’m sure that when the details are generally disseminated, he might not be quite so smitten.”

“You witch,”Caroline muttered.

“As to you,”Mildred said to Caroline, “if you’re here in the morning, I’m writing to Archibald to inform him of where you are. He can come fetch you—with my blessing.”

She whipped away and stomped out.

CHAPTER FIVE

Feeling as if she was marching to the gallows, Sarah approached the door to Mr. Sinclair’s room. She knew she shouldn’t have come again, but she had to speak with him immediately.

After Mildred had stormed off, Sarah had flagged down a housemaid and asked about the card game.

It was starting in an hour, in a downstairs parlor. A dozen footmen would spend the night, carting in liquor and cigars and food. The bacchanal would continue until Mr. Sinclair had won everything from Hedley yet again. There would be no stopping him until he’d proved his point—whatever it might be.

Once he’d crushed Hedley beneath his boot, once he’d humiliated Hedley one last time, what would become of her brother? What would become of all of them?

She knocked and knocked, but received no answer, so she pressed her ear to the wood. Inside, she could hear voices. She spun the knob and walked in. The sitting room and bedchamber were empty, and boldly, she kept on, foolishly proceeding to the dressing room where the voices grew more distinct.

She halted in the doorway and studied the sordid scene.

Mr. Sinclair and Miss Dubois were together, preparing as if to attend a fancy party.

Miss Dubois was attired in a dazzling red gown that sparkled when she moved. The neckline was scooped so low, her corset pushing her breasts so high, that Sarah could see the pink rim circling her nipples. If she leaned forward, her breasts would be fully visible.

Was it intentional? Hedley would certainly be distracted by the risqué display.

Dubois’s blond hair was elaborately coiffed, with an exotic mix of braids, curls, and red feathers that matched her gown. She was drenched in a tantalizing perfume, an intoxicating scent that would definitely divert a boy of Hedley’s limited sophistication.