by Cheryl Holt
Miss Sinclair frowned, as if she might have overstepped. “You shouldn’t mention it to him or anyone. For the moment, it’s a secret. We haven’t made any announcements.”
“I understand, and I shall remain silent until I learn that it’s official. Who is his fiancée?”
“Our cousin, Veronica Gordon. She was with me in the village. Might you have seen her?”
“Yes, she’s stunning, and I’m sure she’ll be a beautiful bride.”
It was growing harder to maintain a calm façade. Yes, she’d espied the gorgeous girl who’d climbed into the carriage with Miss Sinclair and Judah Barnett. She’d been striking, but in an icy, harsh way.
Sebastian Sinclair was marrying that girl?
Sarah swallowed down any regret. She’d had a few brief days to enjoy their flirtation, but she should have known he’d be engaged. He was thirty after all. And she also should have known it would be to a cousin. Rich dolts like the Sinclairs kept their assets in the family so they didn’t have to share with outsiders.
Why then—when the reality of his circumstance was so blatantly apparent—was she so terribly crushed? It wasn’t as if they could have had a permanent bond. She wasn’t that stupid. She wasn’t Cinderella, and a man like Mr. Sinclair never married a female of her low station.
It simply hurt to realize that he’d been trifling with her when he was about to march down the aisle with someone else. Yes, he was a bachelor, so it wasn’t technically wrong, but still, it was duplicitous behavior toward his fiancée.
She’d convinced herself that he was sweet on her, that he wanted a connection, and she was so pathetically lonely that she’d let him shower her with attention.
Why had she? Maybe she was as disgustingly fond as his sister had charged.
Well, she’d had a lifetime of parting from people with whom she was close, and she was good at it. The minute he returned from Selby, she’d nip any romance in the bud, and she’d start locking the door so he couldn’t sneak in.
“I’m curious about your two orphans,” Miss Sinclair said.
You shouldn’t be!
“How have they intrigued you?” Sarah blandly inquired.
“They were very familiar to me, and I’m trying to figure out why. Who is their father?”
Sarah looked her straight in the eye and firmly stated, “I have no idea. They’re orphans, Miss Sinclair. In my line of work, it’s common that I wouldn’t learn a child’s parentage.”
“I don’t believe you, and I should probably inform you that my brother recently told me a distressing story about my father. He claims that Sir Sidney sired numerous bastards and that two of them have been living in London.”
“That’s very…interesting.”
“And now, here you are with two children who resemble me exactly. So I ask you again: Who is their father?”
Sarah stared her down, struggling to deduce the best course. She hated to deceive Miss Sinclair or infuriate Mr. Sinclair, which she was positive would be the result of any revelation.
She couldn’t guess how the encounter might have concluded, but to her dismay, the rear door banged, and the children tromped in. They were laughing, delighted to be in the country and viewing it as a sort of grand holiday away from the city.
Miss Sinclair cast a scathing glare at Sarah, then rose to her feet as the merry pair bustled in. Noah saw her first, and he beamed with excitement and strutted over to her. Petunia hung back, standing a bit behind Noah as was her wont. She was never as bold as he was.
“Miss Sinclair!” Being the little gentleman he was, he performed a perfect bow. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. No one would let us, and we’ve been so anxious about it.”
Miss Sinclair scowled. “You’ve been hoping to meet me?”
“Yes!” He peeked over at Sarah. “Did you tell her about us? Is that why she’s here? Or did our brother tell her?”
Miss Sinclair gasped, and she whirled on Sarah as if Sarah had tricked her. She was livid as she asked, “Are they my father’s children?”
Sarah rose too, and she felt awful over how it had unraveled. Noah’s smile vanished, and Pet appeared stricken.
With Miss Sinclair demanding to know if Sir Sidney was their father, was there any reason to lie? In light of how the secret had been pitched out into the open, she didn’t think so.
A vision of Mr. Sinclair flashed in her mind, and she pictured him shouting at her, throwing things, kicking them out. It made her sad and left her very weary again. She’d thought they were safe, but perhaps—so long as Noah and Pet were with her—they simply couldn’t be anywhere near the Sinclair siblings.
Once Miss Sinclair departed, they would pack their bags. If her brother arrived and tossed them out, they could leave without a fuss.
“Yes, Miss Sinclair, they are your father’s children. This is Noah.” She gestured to him. “And this is Petunia. We call her Pet for short.”
They all froze, the moment so fraught with peril that it seemed as if they’d been turned to stone.
Then Miss Sinclair snorted with revulsion, as if she was offended to the marrow of her bones.
“My presence is required at the manor,” she arrogantly said. “Miss Robertson, I expect you will attend me tomorrow morning at eleven. I have some questions for you to answer, and you will visit me alone.” She peered scornfully at her half-siblings. “I don’t wish you to bring anyone with you.”
She swept out, and Noah hurled after her, “I apologize for upsetting you, Miss Sinclair. Please don’t be angry!”
Sarah placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to silence, and they listened as she stomped away.
After it was quiet again, Noah asked, “Will you speak with her tomorrow?”
“I suppose I’d better. I’m not certain about her authority over us, and I shouldn’t antagonize her more than we already have.”
“She’ll calm down.” Noah was a constant optimist. “Why is she so incensed? We can’t change the fact that Sir Sidney is our father. It just…is.”
“I doubt she views it that way.”
Sarah glanced over at Pet, and the poor child was completely crushed.
“I always wanted to have a sister,” Pet told them, “but she didn’t even look at me.”
“She was shocked, Pet,” Sarah said, “and rude because of it. She didn’t mean anything by it.”
“She hated us,” Pet said. “I could tell.”
She burst into tears, and as Sarah sank down onto her chair, she felt like crying too.
What would happen now? She couldn’t imagine, but she had an appointment the next morning at eleven. She had no idea when Mr. Sinclair would get back from Selby, but she could only pray it would be very soon.
CHAPTER NINE
Nell Drummond Blake, the new Countess of Selby, was strolling down the lane toward Selby Manor.
She’d been to the village to attend a meeting of the church’s Lady’s Aid Society, of which her new position made her patron and chairwoman, and she was walking home. There were so many things she was expected to do now, so many tasks that had been dumped into her lap, and she felt dizzy with trying to keep them all straight.
She’d been married to Nathan for a few weeks, and she still couldn’t believe it. Every morning, when she first opened her eyes and he was snuggled by her side, she’d pinch herself to be sure she hadn’t dreamed it.
She’d become an orphan at age twelve and a ward of the very wealthy Albert and Florence Middleton, with Albert appointed as her guardian.
She’d grown up in their ostentatious mansion, and their daughter, Susan, was her dearest friend. She’d initially come to Selby for Susan’s wedding, then she’d promptly misbehaved with Nathan. But he was handsome and dashing and so unlike anyone she’d ever previously known. How could she have resisted his wily seduction?
Susan had been a great heiress who’d been betrothed to Nathan’s cousin, Percy, but that situation had collapsed into chaos when Susan had fallen i
n love with Percy’s brother, Trevor. The negligent pair had eloped to Scotland, so Susan had been disowned by her rich parents. Percy, who’d been drowning in a sea of debt and who’d been a secret bigamist, had fled the country to escape his fiscal burdens.
Nell had returned to London in disgrace due to her being in the family way. In a pathetic attempt to tamp down any scandal, Mr. Middleton had arranged a hasty marriage for her to one of his clerks. Nathan had rescued her from that dire fate and had married her himself.
They were living happily ever after at Selby. Newlyweds, Susan and Trevor, were living with them too. Nathan was home for good, having vowed to abandon his adventuring to stay with her at Selby. She’d refused to have a husband who spent his life gallivanting across the globe, so it was a promise she’d extracted from him when he’d begged her to wed.
Of course he was never in the best of health. His final expedition had ended in tragedy, and he’d almost died in Africa, so he was still recovering. Even if he’d wanted to sail there in the future, he’d probably never be fit enough to proceed.
She sighed with gladness. All in all, matters had worked out perfectly.
Her only regret was that Susan’s parents remained so angry over her elopement. They were upset with Nell too, assuming she’d assisted Susan in her disgraceful scheme. They were also incensed because Mr. Middleton had expended an enormous amount of effort to locate a husband for Nell, but after Nathan had arrived to claim her, she’d flitted off to Selby without a backward glance.
She’d resided with the Middletons for an entire decade, and she always hated to quarrel, so she wrote them once a week, hoping—eventually—they’d forgive her.
So far, she hadn’t received a reply, and apparently, they’d shuttered their house and departed on a lengthy trip. Nell suspected their humiliation over Susan’s elopement had driven them out of the city, but whatever the reason, they weren’t home, so her letters weren’t being opened. Yet she was an optimist, so she kept writing to them anyway.
Someone was riding up behind her, and she peeked over her shoulder to find a blond man approaching. She hadn’t ever met Nathan’s ex-friend, Sebastian Sinclair, but she recognized him immediately. She’d seen portraits of his famous father, and Mr. Sinclair resembled him exactly.
With their last journey concluding so disastrously, he’d visited earlier in the summer. Nathan had been mortally wounded in Africa and left for dead by his companions. Somehow, he’d staggered to England on his own, and he still declined to explain how he’d managed the extraordinary feat. He insisted the details were too disturbing to share, so she hadn’t pressed.
After Mr. Sinclair was back in London, he’d traveled to Selby to apprise Nathan’s aunt and cousins of his death. Nathan wasn’t dead though, and Mr. Sinclair had been intercepted in the driveway by a lethally livid Nathan who’d sent Mr. Sinclair racing away, bruised, battered, and with his ears ringing from hurled instructions to never return.
If she remembered correctly, Nathan had threatened to kill Mr. Sinclair if they ever came face to face again.
So…she had no idea why he would dare to show up after such a short interval, but she was thrilled that he had. Obviously, he was determined to mend their rift. How could she help him accomplish it?
“Hello, Mr. Sinclair,” she said as he neared.
He reined in. “Hello, Miss. Do I know you?”
“We haven’t been introduced, but your reputation precedes you, and you have no secrets from me.”
He flashed a charming smile. “I can’t decide if I’m elated or horrified.”
“Are you here to speak with Nathan?”
At her question, he hesitated, clearly wondering who she was. If she would refer to Nathan by his Christian name, then they were on familiar terms. Might he have read her wedding announcement in the newspapers?
He and Nathan had been friends since they were seven, and they’d been closer than brothers. It was odd for them to be estranged, but even odder that Nathan would wed, but Mr. Sinclair not be consulted or informed.
“Ah…ah…yes,” he said, “I’m planning to speak with him.”
“He’s still furious. Are you sure you should risk it?”
Mr. Sinclair snorted at that. “I have to risk it. I need to talk to him.”
“I’m Nell Blake.”
“Are you a Blake cousin?”
Maybe he hadn’t seen the announcement.
“I’m not a cousin,” she said. “I’m a wife.”
His mind whirred as he worked it out. “Nell…Blake? By any chance, were you previously Miss Nell Drummond?”
“Yes. That would be me.”
He dismounted to bow politely. “I’m delighted to meet you, Lady Selby.”
“You don’t have to address me in a fancy way. Up until a few weeks ago, I was a very normal person, and I’m not used to all the pomp and circumstance. Please call me Nell.”
“I will—if you’ll call me Sebastian.”
“I’d like that.”
“As I’d never heard a whiff about you until your marriage was mentioned in the paper, I assume there is an interesting story behind you becoming Nathan’s wife.”
“I’ll tell you about it someday.” She leaned in and whispered, “Mostly, we had to proceed in a hurry because we’re having a baby.”
He blanched with astonishment. “Oh! My goodness.”
She laughed and waved away his reaction. “Before I traveled to Selby over the summer, I viewed myself as a very moralistic female, but after my antics with Nathan, I’ve been forced to accept that—in certain instances—I’m no better than I have to be.”
“Well…!” His jaw dropped. “I have no response to that.”
“I could have pretended that we married quickly for no reason at all, but I expect you can calculate the dates on a calendar. You’d have figured it out pretty fast.”
“I’d like to think I wouldn’t have believed the worst.”
“My husband is very fond of me too though, so he probably would have wed me even without the baby. In fact, I’d be so bold as to say he’s madly in love with me, and we’re annoyingly happy. Since you’ve been acquainted with him for most of your life, and I’m sure you deem him to be a huge grouch, I predict you’re shocked.”
Sebastian gazed down the lane toward the manor, looking as if he wished he had magical eyes that would allow him to peer inside its walls. “How is he?”
“He’s healing and much improved. I doubt he’ll ever be completely hale, but considering his condition when he first arrived, he’s quite recuperated.”
“I thought he perished in Africa.”
“I know.”
“If I’d suspected he was alive, I wouldn’t have left him there.”
“I know that too.”
“We searched for him exhaustively, but he was nowhere to be found. We finally gave up and sailed without him—to my great shame.”
He appeared so remorseful, and she hated how it had unraveled, how both men had ended up so wretched.
“It was a chaotic event,” she said, “and you had your father and your crew to worry about.”
“Has he told you how he made it to England?”
She shook her head. “No, he won’t talk about it, so I’m guessing it was horrendous.”
“I suppose it would have been.” He gazed toward the manor again. “There’s an inquest to be held about the incident. The expedition had financial sponsors, and they want answers about what happened.”
“Nathan received a subpoena for it, and he’s been debating whether to show up or not. It would be very difficult for him to be questioned.”
“I really need him there, and…ah…I need to inquire about his testimony.”
As with his miraculous journey to England, Nathan hadn’t confided exactly why Sir Sidney had been murdered in Africa, but she had her suspicions. He’d been so revered, and his family would be anxious to preserve his status as a hero.
If they were plotting t
o bury unsavory details, what was her opinion about it? Should her husband be part of a duplicitous scheme to shade the edges of history?
It was likely best for her to stay out of it. Nathan should choose the correct path for himself. He was the one who’d have to struggle with his conscience.
“How angry is he these days?” Sebastian asked.
“Very angry.”
“Could I convince him to converse civilly with me?”
“There’s only one way to find out. Let’s head to the manor, and I’ll check his mood. We’ll go from there.”
* * * *
Nathan was seated at the desk in his library and wading through a stack of tedious correspondence. He’d never viewed himself as a farmer or a businessman, but with his swearing off adventures to remain at Selby, he’d become both.
In the years he’d been away on his wild escapades, he’d paid agents, lawyers, and bankers to handle the tasks associated with his enormous estates and fortune. Since he was home now—for good—he was trying to be more responsible, but he detested all of it. He was already thinking—at the earliest opportunity—he’d deliver it all back to his agents, bankers, and lawyers.
Nell was suddenly dawdling out in the hall, and without glancing up, he said, “Why are you lurking, Nell? Please interrupt me. I’m dying in here.”
She bustled in, and her presence had him smiling—as always.
“How did you know it was me?” she asked.
“I’d recognize your stride anywhere.”
She sauntered over, rounding the desk so she could snoop at the letter on the top of the pile. It was from a book publisher. There had been numerous inquiries about the possibility of his writing a book, but he couldn’t imagine why any sane person would judge his comments to be relevant on any topic.
“What have you decided?” she asked. “Will you pen a memoire or not?”
“Who would want to hear about my life?”
“Everybody?”
“It’s seems awfully pretentious.”
“Well, you’re a pretentious fellow, and your past has been so exciting. Why not entertain those poor souls whose existences are so dreary? They could live vicariously through you.”
