Meet Me at Midnight (4 page)

The earl was seated behind a mahogany desk, looking more like a banker than a nobleman. A ledger lay open in front of him, but despite his appearance Sin doubted he’d been doing much accounting this morning. Stiveton looked up as the two men stepped into the room.

“Althorpe. I thought you might have fled the country by now.”

“Good morning, Lord Stiveton. Sorry to disappoint you.”

The earl narrowed his eyes. “Timms, we are not to be disturbed.”

The butler bowed as he pulled the door shut. “Yes, my lord.”

“Acting contrite now doesn’t excuse your actions last night, Althorpe.” Stiveton laid his hands flat against the desktop.

Sinclair shrugged. “My actions last night cannot be excused.”

“Agreeing with me won’t do you any good, either. How many times have you behaved in some disreputable manner and then escaped without censure?”

Sin lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want an exact count?”

“Whatever liberties you may have taken on the Continent, we do not tolerate such behavior here.”

“With all due respect, Lord Stiveton, I may have led, but your daughter followed willingly enough.”

The earl slammed to his feet. “This is how you beg for forgiveness?”

Sinclair flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. “I’m not begging for anything, Lord Stiveton. I am at your service. I have a suggestion, but do what you will.”

Still glaring, Stiveton slowly seated himself again. “Were you expecting me to challenge you to a duel, so I could defend Victoria’s honor?”

“Of course not. That would mean my killing you. I was thinking more of your demanding a public apology, and me rendering one.”

“That might bandage your reputation, but it wouldn’t do anything for my daughter’s.”

As the mantel clock struck the quarter hour, the earl continued to gaze at him speculatively. Sinclair didn’t like the thoughtful expression nor the direction the conversation seemed to be headed, but kept his silence. Stiveton obviously had some solution in mind.

Finally the earl leaned forward, folding his hands over the ledger. “As much as I would like to state otherwise, the events of last night were not entirely your fault.”

That sounded promising. “We agree, then, that an apology would suff—”

“Just a moment, Althorpe. I’m not finished. My daughter has an unfortunate lack of self-control. I had hoped proper schooling and discipline would cure her of her impulsiveness, but as you…experienced, this is not the case.”

Sin dropped unbidden into the uncomfortable gilded chair that faced the desk. At this point he’d thought to hear Vixen’s reputation defended and his own further besmirched. That wasn’t the case, and, uncharacteristically, he had to stop himself from coming to her defense. After all, for the past five years he’d been luring people into saying and doing things they’d rather not. She hadn’t had much of a chance; he hadn’t given her one. Abruptly Sinclair realized Stiveton was glaring at him again, so he assumed an intrigued expression. “And?” he prompted.

“And so if I cannot curb her behavior, I will take steps to see that the scandal resulting from it is diverted away from my household. To be blunt, she is now
your
problem.”

Sinclair blinked. “You don’t actually want her to marry…
me
.”

“I told you, I do not condone this reprehensible lack of propriety, even in members of my own family. Especially in members of my own family.” Stiveton picked up a pencil. “I’ll settle ten thousand pounds on her now, and three thousand a year for another year, when she turns twenty-one and comes into her grandmother’s inheritance. I imagine now that you’re back in London, you’ll be going through your family’s fortune in no time.”

Sin’s mind raced. Obviously he’d miscalculated.
The earl didn’t seem to realize how sordid his reputation was if he actually intended the marriage. “I continue to be astounded by your generosity. Your daughter
and
ten thousand pounds.”

“And all scandal gone from my house. That is what I’m paying for.”

“Lord Stiveton, whatever you may say now, you must be aware that any bachelor peer in London would consider your daughter an acceptable bride, once I apologize. Are you certain you—”

“Perhaps they would, but she won’t have any of them. This, she has no choice in. The wedding will take place one week from Saturday. I’ve already sent a note to Prince George. We’ll have Westminster Cathedral.”

Apparently the earl didn’t want to risk giving either of the wedding participants time to make an escape. “The Regent will be attending then, I presume?”

“Given the importance of the two families involved, I assure you that he will be.”

“And your daughter is in agreement about this?” Sin asked skeptically.

“Of course she isn’t in agreement. But she should have thought of that before she…fell into your embrace in such a public setting.”

“I—”

“Understand this, Althorpe.” The earl tapped the pencil on his desk. “Over the past three years I have suggested at least two dozen possible husbands to her, and I have given her ample time to ‘fall in love’ with any one of them, which was her stipulation before making a marriage. Instead of making a choice, she has gadded about London breaking hearts, ruining her own and my reputation, and swearing that she will
have nothing to do with the idea of marriage. They call her the Vixen, you know.”

“I’d heard something about that.”

The earl leaned forward again. “Don’t mistake me, Althorpe; I find your behavior deplorable.”

“You’ve made your opinion quite clear.” Sinclair felt as though he’d just lost his last bishop and his queen in a chess match he hadn’t even realized he’d been playing. And now he was about to be mated—literally. He’d been badly outmaneuvered, but surprisingly, he wasn’t quite as horrified as he’d thought to be. All he had to do was concede defeat, and bedding Lady Vixen Fontaine would be his consolation prize. Beyond that—well, he’d never had much faith in tomorrows; he’d always left that to Thomas.

“However,” Stiveton continued, “you have provided me with the opportunity to see Victoria married into an old, well-regarded family, your own black behavior notwithstanding.”

“So glad to be of service,” Sin replied sardonically.

“Wait here.” Stiveton pushed to his feet. “I’ll send your bride in to see you.”

Sin wasn’t all that certain he wanted to see her. As attractive as his prize was, he didn’t like being cornered. But, short of leaving England and abandoning his search, he was going to have to marry Lady Vixen Fontaine. He slouched in the straight-backed chair.

It was his own bloody fault, really. He scowled. He’d been a damned fool, and now Stiveton was using his momentary lapse of sanity to rid the Fontaines of their own scapegrace.

For his family’s sake he had meant to marry, after he’d found Thomas’s murderer and dealt with him. Not now, though, and not to someone he didn’t know
and didn’t trust. This was going to complicate things, and he didn’t need any more blasted complications right now. “Damnation.”

“I said the same thing when my father informed me that you were here.”

Lady Victoria Fontaine strolled into her father’s office, her expression as calm as if she were discussing the weather. Sinclair stood. He’d meant to remain in his arrogant slouch, but as he had noticed last night, he tended to become erect in her presence.

Coming around the back of the chair, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Good morning, Lady Victoria.”

He liked touching her. When she didn’t pull her hand away, he brushed his lips across her knuckles again. She continued gazing at him, her violet eyes the only part of her that didn’t look completely composed. Even in a muted gray-and-green muslin gown she drew his eyes, his attention, and—even more strongly than last night—his desire. Finally she freed her hand and turned to the window, and his blood stirred as he watched the silken sway of her hips.

“My father says you accepted his terms for the marriage,” she said, leaning against the deep sill.

“They were generous.”

Victoria nodded. “He has never been one to quarrel over details.”

Sinclair looked at her for a long moment, absorbed by the fast-beating pulse at the soft curve of her throat, until he abruptly remembered that he was Sin Grafton, dedicated rake and hedonist. “You seem to make up your mind fairly quickly, as well.”

“I wanted you to drag me off to the garden,” she
admitted, blushing, “but I didn’t know you were going to attempt to render me naked.”

She had wanted him
. “You didn’t seem unduly disturbed by it—until your father arrived.”

The pretty color in her cheeks deepened. “I’ll admit, my lord, that you kiss well—but I imagine you’ve had a great deal of practice.”

Amused at the supposed insult, Sinclair swept a bow. “I’m pleased all my hard work’s gone to good use.”

“Too good, according to my parents.”

“I’ll apologize for the public setting of our embrace, but I won’t apologize for kissing you.” He stepped closer, as drawn to her this morning as he’d been last night, despite the marriage noose. “You’re delicious.”

She cocked her head at him. “Are you still trying to seduce me?” Victoria pushed away from the window, and walked toward the door, saying in a raised voice, “That’s hardly necessary, Lord Althorpe; you’ve already won my hand in marriage.”

Curious, Sinclair watched as she softly closed the door and faced him. “If you want to continue what we began last night, my lady,” he murmured, “I am a willing participant. Exceedingly willing.”

“The only thing I want to participate in is getting us out of trouble,” she countered, lowering her voice again. “You can hardly want this marriage any more than I do.”

“What do you propose—pardon the pun—to do about it, then?”

She clapped her hands together, abruptly all business. “You’ve spent the past five years on the Continent. No one would think twice if you decided to return there.”

So the little spitfire thought she could dictate terms. Her father was right about one thing, anyway: she was definitely trouble. “Probably not.”

“If money is a problem, I do have an independent income at my disposal. Surely you could live comfortably in Paris on, say, a thousand pounds a year?”

Sin couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You want me to return to Paris.”

“Yes. The sooner, the better.”

“And you would pay for my meals, rent, clothing, and general upkeep if I were to do so,” he continued, counting the points off on his fingers.

Her expression became a little dubious. “Well, yes.”

“All that’s lacking, then, is for you to promise to come visit me from time to time and bring me chocolates.”

Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “I am not proposing keeping you, or some other sordid arrangement. Only keeping you away from me.”

“It amounts to about the same thing. Do you have any other almost-husbands lurking about the countryside?”

“I am completely serious!”

Unsure whether he was more annoyed or amused, Sinclair closed the distance between them. “But I don’t want to return to Paris. I like it here.”

She backed into the wall. “Ouch. I’m certain you’d be much happier with all your high-flying lady friends in Paris. It’s quite lovely there this time of year, anyway.”

“It’s lovely here. Nearly as lovely as you.”

“But no one in London even likes you!” she burst out, then blanched.

And no one in London knew he had damned near
died for them more than a dozen times over the past five years. His chest tightening, he turned away so she wouldn’t see the sudden anger in his eyes. “They haven’t realized how charming I am,” he said smoothly, pretending to examine the view out the window.

Surprisingly, she put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “That was cruel.”

Brushing her hand away, he faced her again. Pity was another item for which he had nothing but contempt. “I think London will like me considerably more when I am in
your
company, my lady.”

“But—”

“You’re very popular—quite society’s darling.” And that could work to his advantage, he realized as he studied her smooth, cream-colored complexion. Why, he was a bloody genius! Not only would their marriage keep him in society’s good graces but it would also gain him access to places his tattered reputation would otherwise have denied him. And given her own wildness, she wouldn’t cling on his arm every moment and get in his way.

“But I am not going to get married—and certainly not to you!”

He smiled. “Then you shouldn’t have kissed me.”

Victoria flushed. “Don’t you think marriage will interfere with your womanizing and wagering and drinking?”

She sounded desperate. Sin leaned forward, trapping her between the wall and his arms. “Not any more than it would interfere with your flirting and socializing and shopping and whatever else it is that you do.”

“It won’t!” she shot back at him.

He looked her in the eyes and was surprised when
she looked straight back at him. Most people didn’t do that; they had too much to hide. “Apparently,” he murmured, “we are perfect for one another.” With that, he leaned down and kissed her.

With a surprised sound that came from deep in her chest, Victoria returned the embrace, curving her neck to meet his mouth more fully with hers. Her instant, heated response aroused him, as it had last night in Lady Franton’s garden. He wanted to dislike her—to dismiss her as one of the faceless nobility who hadn’t bothered to discover who had killed his brother. But while he was reasonably sure she hadn’t murdered anyone, he did know one thing for certain: he had kissed a hundred women and never felt this way before.

Slowly and reluctantly he broke the kiss. Her long, curling lashes fluttered open, and her violet eyes looked into his. “If I marry you,” she whispered, “it would only be for my family’s sake.”

Sin chuckled. More likely it would be to escape her family. “May I take you for a picnic tomorrow?”

Victoria cleared her throat, lowering her hands from where she’d draped them over his shoulders. “I’m going shopping tomorrow with Lucy Havers and Marguerite Porter.”