The Sinner (5 page)

“It is an astonishing idea. Totally unexpected. I am not exactly the marrying kind, Fleur.”

“This is not exactly a typical marriage. I will never ask you questions about your lovers, Dante. I know that I will have no right to. There will be no jealous scenes.”

“The freedom to have lovers is not what concerns me right now. We speak of a lifetime. Just how separate do you expect us to be? It would raise questions if we are never together.”

“We need not be strangers. We can share a house, and entertain mutual friends if it suits us.”

“I think that we would have to at first, don’t you? It would not do to make people suspicious, especially Farthingstone.”

“You can move to my house in Mayfair after the wedding. There is enough room for one more.”

His expression went serious, and she knew that he was deciding her future in that moment. His gaze fell to her lips. For an instant that special energy shimmered intensely.

His thumb brushed her mouth. “Will I be allowed to kiss my wife sometimes?”

“Friends do, don’t they?”

He touched his mouth gently to hers. The softness and warmth of the kiss caused a bright light to blink through her.

“When do you plan to hold the wedding, Miss Monley? As it happens, my social diary is without commitments at the moment.”

It was the money that swayed him. He would have been an idiot not to grab for it.

Dante told himself that many times over the next few days while he contemplated why he had accepted Fleur’s offer.

He had agreed because the marriage would rescue him from dire straits, but he confessed that her appeal had touched him in other ways.

She trusted him. It was a novel notion, and a surprisingly compelling one. So it was really about the money, but the flattery of her trust may have nudged him a little.

It was an unusual arrangement, but in many ways ideal. The day-to-day coexistence would not be unpleasant. He would have every freedom he had ever had, but now with the blunt to pay for it properly. He would finally be free of his dependence on his family.

Yes, financially speaking, he had done very well.

The only cloud on the bright horizon, and it was a very small cloud to be sure, was that while Fleur was indifferent to men, he was not indifferent to Fleur.

In that backyard, while the chickens pecked around his boots and he weighed her offer, that part of the agreement had struck him as rather dismal. When he had held her hand in acceptance, it had taken some strength of will not to pull her into a very different kind of kiss from the one she had just permitted.

That should take care of itself, however. Once he was back to his old life, his attraction would pass quickly. It rarely settled in one place for long.

Even though it was all about her money, she had made it clear that it was not about
all
of her money. Therefore, when the Duclaircs’ solicitor, Julian Hampton, arrived at the gaol to discuss the settlement, Dante did not quibble over the three thousand a year that would be his free and clear, even though in a normal marriage he would have much more.

He did not blink when Hampton explained that the land would also be at Fleur’s disposal and that Dante would be agreeing to permit her to use it and its income as she chose.

He even remained impassive when Hampton explained that he could leave the gaol. The solicitor had already spoken with Thompson on Fleur’s request, and informed the creditor that Dante’s bride would be paying the outstanding debt of fifteen thousand pounds in full.

After itemizing Fleur’s terms, Hampton moved on to a fuller discussion of the matter.

“As your family’s counselor, I advise against this marriage.” Hampton spoke in his most formal tone. He had been a friend of the family for years, but signaled with his voice and demeanor when he fully assumed his occupational role.

“The terms are unusual, but not ungenerous. I am unlikely to do better.”

“You are promising to agree to financial decisions even if they are unsound. She could squander the entire fortune not in trust, and you would have no authority to prevent it.”

“Then we will live on the trust income. However, I think it unlikely that she will squander all the rest.”

Hampton rose and paced over to the grimy window of the gaol’s tiny bedchamber. This time Dante had paid Meg the ten pence for some privacy. As Hampton gazed out on the scrubby yard, his entire demeanor was that of a tall, dark pillar of professional responsibility. One would never guess that they had played together as boys, when Dante tagged along during Hampton’s visits to Vergil.

“The private agreement has no standing in the law, of course. If you conclude she is not acting sensibly, or break it for other reasons, no judge will uphold it. I explained that to her,” he said.

“I think she understood that risk already.”

“Yes. It will be a matter of your honor. So she said. I would prefer it only be words on paper. Those can be interpreted and argued. If you promise these provisions on your honor, there will be no recourse except acting dishonorably.”

Hampton turned, his face impassive, his dark eyes enigmatic beneath his tousled dark hair. One rarely knew what Hampton was thinking. He was a silent foil to others’ wit and verbal excess, an observer of the world. Dante knew that many women found Hampton mysterious and romantic, although men were more likely to think him merely proud and reserved.

“I still must advise against it, for other reasons. I have been making inquiries about her.”

“I did not ask you to make any inquiries.” Dante kept his pique at the presumption under control, but his jaw tightened.

“St. John and I thought it best to find out if Farthingstone’s accusations had any basis.”

Hampton was also St. John’s solicitor, a position acquired through their common friendship with Laclere. They were all part of a circle of friends who for years had fenced together. When young men, they had dubbed themselves the Hampstead Dueling Society, and Dante had been absorbed into the group after he left university.

“How fortunate for me that you and St. John are my guardian angels.”

“With Laclere in Italy—”

“To hell with St. John, and
you
.”

“We are your friends, Duclairc. Be angry if you want, but hear me out. Miss Monley refused to explain some of the matters I asked about, and I have doubts whether there were any explanations to give in any case.”

“You spoke with her during these inquiries?” The image of Fleur being examined by Hampton’s precise, probing solicitor’s questions angered him further.

“I also spoke with Farthingstone.”

“Damn it—”

“Just listen.” Hampton traced the edges of the window’s rough stone sill as he spoke. “The change in your future bride after she broke with Laclere is well known. However, recently she has gone much further in her largesse. It is no longer a matter of spending her income. She has sold out some funds not in trust and donated the money to a variety of causes. Most are predictable charities. However, last year she sent a goodly sum, at least a thousand, north during the work stoppage in the coal mines. It was used by the colliers and the keelmen to support their families.”

“That only means she does not like to see people starve.”

“It also means that she has connections to some radical groups, and not those who work through normal channels. Which in turn raises the question of whether she was only running away when you found her or was actually involved in what was happening on the estates that night.”

“I do not believe that.”

“It also means, at the very least, that Farthingstone will have very powerful men who will not want that flow of financial support to happen again.”

This latter point was worth knowing. No doubt some of those powerful men had the ear of the judges in Chancery court.

“The diminishment of her inheritance has been significant the last two years. The death of her mother appears to have something to do with her increased generosity. Farthingstone is in a position to know the details. He calculates that fifty percent of the land is gone.
She sold it
.”

No wonder Farthingstone claimed she was addled. No one sold land. They hoarded it and entailed it and coveted it.

“That still leaves a very large fortune.”

“There is more. When asked how she decides which property to sell and when, and which causes to support, she claims to have an adviser. She will not name the man, however. Farthingstone thinks there is no adviser, only a fantasy of her imagination.”

“He claims she is hearing voices now? Seeing invisible friends? Surely you do not believe—”

“She is currently planning to sell her largest tract of land, a significant estate in Durham. She inherited it from her aunt Ophelia. Did I mention that her aunt was quite an original? It is in the family, it appears.” Hampton continued as if the anger pouring toward him was not there.

“It is in my family too. I don’t see anyone trying to label my sisters incompetent.”

“There was another aunt, also deceased. That one was strange enough that even the eccentric Aunt Ophelia kept her in seclusion.” Hampton just kept talking in that damn, flat, factual voice. “Miss Monley would not say to whom she plans to sell the Durham property, and neither I nor St. John can discover the name of the purchaser. We fear that she is about to be the victim of a swindle. Secrecy is often demanded in such cases, and on this transaction she will not disclose anything at all.”

“Perhaps that is because she does not think you have the right to demand the details, just as Farthingstone does not.”

“No, but you do, no matter what the private terms of this marriage will be. I suggested that she write the facts down, seal the letter, and allow me to bring them to you. She refused. It is, and will be, none of your affair, she said.”

Her response did not shock Dante. Hearing it stated so bluntly, however, made forcefully clear what Fleur had meant when she proposed. His anger retreated as he absorbed the implications.

Separate lives, she had said. Not really married. She had meant it.

“Again, I must counsel you not to agree to this marriage,” Hampton said. He did not use the solicitor’s voice this time, but the friend’s.

“I have already agreed to it, Julian.”

“She is in no position to claim breach of contract. St. John will pay what is owed Thompson, and Laclere will reimburse him upon his return.”

“Fifteen thousand is a large sum even for my brother.”

“I am in a position to know that he can afford it. The viscountess’s income alone can cover it.”

“So now I am to be bailed out by my brother’s wife?”

“It is an alternative solution to your current dilemma. As for your acceptance of the proposal, I can take care of that.”

Except Dante did not want Hampton to take care of it, any more than he wanted to rely on St. John and then Laclere to pay this debt. He did not want this alternative solution.

He realized he did not want it for the simple reason that he did not want to let Fleur down.

She needed help, had come to him, and he had agreed to her plan. Maybe she was addled, or maybe she was rational as a clock. In either case, he had promised to protect her.

“Much of what you describe is merely the action of a good-hearted woman, who may be a little eccentric or overly generous, Hampton. If she says she has an adviser, I’m sure that she does. If that adviser is taking advantage of her, I will find out and deal with him.”

“What if she will not confide in you? The day may come when she demands your signature on documents you know nothing about, or of which you do not approve. That agreement may mean that you one day contribute to a plan to defraud her.”

“I will not sign anything that has not been explained to my satisfaction as financially sound. In the hierarchy of honor, my duty to protect her comes first. No matter what our agreement, she will still be my wife and I will take responsibility for her.”

“You are determined then? If so, as both your friend and solicitor I will aid you, even if I think it unwise. Laclere may have my head, but that is a problem for another day.”

Dante had to laugh. “When my brother gets back, I will explain that you did your best to save me and that, as always, I am a victim of my own recklessness.”

chapter
5

F
arthingstone learned of the pending nuptials with surprising speed. Fast enough to convince the archbishop to delay in giving the special license.

Soon enough to request a meeting with the chancellor, Lord Brougham, so he could lay out his claims that Fleur Monley’s emotional condition rendered her incapable of entering into a contract of marriage.

Three days after Dante left gaol, Fleur found herself with him and Julian Hampton in the garden of St. John’s house, getting the bad news.

“It will not be an official hearing,” Hampton explained as they strolled through the plants wakening to the spring. “However, Brougham was sufficiently concerned that he will advise the archbishop to refuse the license until the matter is settled. He is sure that you will agree that it is best not to wed until Chancery can assess Farthingstone’s claims.”

“I don’t agree at all,” Fleur said.

“It is not your agreement he assumes, Miss Monley, but Duclairc’s. Brougham is sure that no man would want the world thinking he took advantage of a woman’s weak condition.”

“I have no
condition,
least of all a weak one.”

She was not convinced that Mr. Hampton believed that. He was so enigmatic, one never could tell what his own opinion was. Also, she doubted he had fought Gregory very hard on this. He had not approved of the private settlement and had asked too many impertinent questions about her affairs.

Dante appeared less than distraught by this development. So much that she wondered if he welcomed it. “When will Farthingstone have his meeting?” he asked.

“He is to give his argument in the high chancellor’s chambers in a fortnight. Miss Monley will be asked to attend. I will recommend a barrister to accompany her.”

Dante gazed at Mr. Hampton very directly. “Will Farthingstone succeed?”

“Possibly. I should tell you that among his other claims, he is using her choice of husband as further evidence that she cannot make sound judgments.”

“I expected a husband to solve the problem, not make it worse,” Fleur said.

“Farthingstone says no sensible woman would ally herself with Duclairc’s reputation. He says no responsible woman would hand a fortune to a man she had to bail out of debtor’s prison. Of course, he does not know of the private agreement, but if he did, it would only make things worse.”

“So I will be at Chancery’s mercy, after all.” It vexed her that her life was being meddled with, by all these men who claimed to have her welfare in mind. Now it appeared that her attempts to thwart them had only expedited her doom.

Hampton stopped to finger some buds on a bush. “I am obligated to advise you to await Chancery’s decision, of course.”

Dante still appeared unconcerned by the entire conversation. “If we triumph at this meeting a fortnight hence, will that end it?”

“Farthingstone will still be able to bring a brief. He may persist in challenging her competence to contract a marriage, which means challenging the marriage itself. Such a case would be long and tedious and very expensive, in the way such things are. Also, if she is married, that compromises his position in all kinds of interesting ways.”

“In other words, obeying the Lord High Chancellor benefits us little and leaves Fleur very vulnerable.”

“One could say that.”

“Thank you, Hampton. I think that Miss Monley and I need to speak privately now.”

With a vague smile, Mr. Hampton turned and walked back to the house. Fleur almost stomped her foot in frustration. “I do not think he is very clever at all. He hasn’t helped us much.”

“He helped enormously.”

“I did not hear him tell us anything except to wait.”

“He could not give advice to disobey the Lord High Chancellor, but he let me know that we should. The course is clear, Fleur. We have to elope.”

Dante had years ago accepted that if he ever married well, it would either be at the point of a sword or after a secret elopement. A decent family would accept him only if their girl’s virtue had been compromised or if faced with a
fait accompli
. Therefore, sweeping Fleur away to Scotland seemed the fulfillment of fate.

The next day Fleur moved back to her house, and two mornings later her hired coach stopped in front of the building where Dante leased his chambers.

He settled in, pulled the curtains, and they were off.

“I think that we should not go to Gretna Green,” he said. “Any place in Scotland will do. Once we are out of the city I will instruct your coachman to go north toward Newcastle. It will mean another half day’s journey, but with Farthingstone bound to head west if he pursues, we can travel at our leisure.”

“We will do it however you think best, Dante.”

What a submissive, wifely thing to say. A pang of acute reality struck him. Wifely.
Wife
. The intended outcome of this journey suddenly demanded cold-blooded recognition.

No going back now. The sails were unfurled, the anchor was raised, and the winds would take them to the port of matrimony.

The journey was long and tedious. Even with spirited bouts of conversation and relaxed stops for meals, the hours weighed heavily. Dante fought a periodic tendency to lazily contemplate the delightful ways he could be spending the long ride alone with a woman if the woman was any other woman but Fleur Monley.

By the second day he occasionally lost the battle. Erotic images occupied his head.

. . . Peeling off the simple gray dress and petticoats . . . Sucking the pert tips of her round little breasts . . . Holding her soft, naked bottom as she moved up and down on him, while her slender knees straddled his hips and her fingers gripped his shoulders in her frenzy . . .

Sometimes she caught him looking at her during those reveries. She would break into her warm, trusting smile. He forced an expression of protective solicitation in return.

Both nights they stayed at inns and retired to separate chambers. Of course they did. However, with another woman . . .

The second night the inn was all but deserted. He lay restlessly, picturing the woman on the other side of the wall, hearing the sounds as she turned in her sleep. He imagined her body spread on his bed, naked in the moonlight streaming through the window, welcoming his hands and mouth as the night cooled the sweat of their passion.

The unbidden fantasy left him hard and hungry. He dressed and went for a long walk under the starry sky in order to break its spell.

So much for the flame only burning if he lit the candle. It had been insane of him to agree to this. He should direct the coach into Newcastle tomorrow, bid his leave of her, and hop a ship to the Continent.

He paused under an oak and debated that option. It would be a disgraceful breach of trust, but if he explained . . . Explained what? That the jaded rake found himself unexpectedly edgy with lust? That he lacked enough control to see it through and give her the protection that she had sought with this arrangement? That even fifteen thousand pounds and three thousand a year could not buy a little continence from him?

The abstinence forced on him by recent events probably had a lot to do with this hunger. Back in London he would find the necessary diversion. He would also no longer be in constant proximity to her. Even sharing a house, they would barely see each other.

He returned to his chamber convinced that he had matters in proper perspective. The low flame that would not die said otherwise. He threw himself on his bed, annoyingly aware that he had not wanted a woman like this in many years, and that the last time it had led to disaster.

But that had been an evil woman and Fleur was all goodness.

Still, it would be best to get back to London and out of her constant company as quickly as possible.

“On our return journey could we stop at my property in Durham? We passed nearby it yesterday, and it is not far from the mail road.” Fleur made the request as the carriage crossed the northeast border into Scotland. “We could stay at the house there, instead of an inn.”

“Whatever you would like,” Dante said. “Do you intend to ask my permission about such little things now? It will be a senseless pretense, since I will have no authority in the big ones.”

His fitful night had left him churlish, and her renewed presence had only made that damn flame burn hotter.

He saw her surprised reaction and regretted his tone. There she innocently sat, dressed in her blue gown, with a lovely silk shawl draping her delicate shoulders. He had turned his frustration on her like he was some randy schoolboy.

He realized that the shawl was probably new. The white kid gloves appeared fresh too. The bonnet with its blue bow near her right temple, bringing out the rosy tint of her cheeks, was more fashionable than her normal millinery.

She had not had time to have a wedding gown made, but in the two days before they left she had done what she could to deck herself in new finery.

It would not be much of a wedding, but it was all that she would ever have. He realized that her request had been the first thing she had said since entering the carriage this morning. He noticed now the worry glistening behind her serene composure.

She was unsettled, as well she might be. He gave up almost nothing in this marriage and gained considerably. She was the one taking all the chances.

He took her hand. “Of course we can stop and remain as long as you like. But today why don’t we just cross back and go to Newcastle and stay over at the Versailles? It is one of the finest hotels in England, and contains all of the newest conveniences.”

“That sounds like fun.”

He held her hand in reassurance until they entered a large village. They pulled to a stop in front of a stone church. It was well before noon, and he sent the coachman off to find the vicar and another witness. While they waited they strolled through a lane of shops and he bought a hothouse rose from a flower girl.

He handed it to Fleur when they returned to the church door. “It will not be the prettiest flower present. You look even more lovely than usual today.”

She blushed and looked down, biting her lower lip.

“You can change your mind. I will understand,” he said.

“I do not want to change my mind.”

Again he experienced that sense of sharpened reality. The immensity of what they were about to do pressed on him.

He took both her hands in his. “Inside we will speak the traditional vows, but I promise you now that I will take care of you and protect you. I will never raise a hand to you and will never knowingly hurt you.”

She looked up. Her eyes moistened and her smile trembled. “And I will take care of you, and be a true friend and helpmate, and stand by you through times good and bad, as long as you want me at your side.”

He offered his arm. “Ready, then?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

They strolled in the churchyard while they waited for the carriage.

“Married,” Dante said. “Getting accustomed to the idea will require some time.”

“It certainly will.”

“Do you want to dine before we go?”

He could be a very considerate man. It was one of his appeals to women, she suspected. Did he show the same thoughtfulness when he made love? It would explain much. Other men who were just as handsome were not as successful.

“I could not eat now. Perhaps when we get to Newcastle.”

They meandered down the path of the small garden. “You probably always thought that if you married you would have a grand wedding at St. Martin’s,” he said.

“I never dreamt of that. This was perfect.”

It
had
been perfect. Just the two of them exchanging vows of friendship in a little stone church on a bright day. The quiet privacy had stirred her emotions.

She glanced to his hands and remembered how he had held her face at the end. Strong, gentle hands. No one else had existed but the two of them for that moment. His dark eyes had been luminous male depths that seemed to look into her heart. She had felt so connected to him, and her soul had filled with the honest affection of his two kisses. One on her forehead, the other on her lips.

She wondered if he kissed his lovers like that. She imagined that second kiss deepening, and those hands moving. The strange, scurrying excitement that she had known in the cottage scampered through her, followed by a poignant regret.

It seemed that her nature would permit vague wonderings. A fantasy posed no danger. Reality would leave her paralyzed.

Just as well. He did not want her like that. This marriage suited him because it left him free. That dark edge had bared itself this morning on the way to the church. No doubt he had been contemplating the potential restrictions on his pleasure if she did not behave as promised.

An alien pain stabbed at the thought of those hands on another woman’s face. Soon, she had no doubt. She scolded the silly jealousy away. She had no right to it, and succumbing would only make her ridiculous.

Still, she had experienced something in that church that she had not expected. She had been given a taste of what some other women knew on their wedding day. She had felt a glimmer of the consummate intimacy that the true joining of two hearts and bodies could create.