Surrender To Ruin (Sinclair Sisters Book 3)

by Carolyn Jewel

  Cynssyr and Frieda joined her. “Bracebridge has been my friend for years. Decades. He stood by me in difficult times.”

  “He could do nothing else. But you have stood by him, too.”

  He smiled slightly. “Such is friendship.”

  His imperturbable manner was worse than any lecture she would ever have from her sister. Cynssyr put before her an unexpected kindness and the possibility of freedom from the marriage Bracebridge did not want. Her freedom from a life spent with a man who would never love her.

  Then why, why, did she want so badly to be near him when that was a certain path to despair? She wanted to be near him. She wanted those nights of his body and hers together, of forgetting all that was wrong between them.

  Cynssyr found another stick and gave it to Frieda. While they watched her destroy it, he said, “Having dispensed with all that we have said to one another and you being assured of my support in whatever decision you take, tell me, what may I do for you now?”

  “Nothing. There’s nothing to be done.”

  “Not so.” He ran his fingers through his hair before resettling his hat. “If I’m not to travel to London to consult with my lawyers, very well. Groundwork might be laid while we wait. Nothing irreparable, I do promise you. Meanwhile, would you agree to a lavish party to celebrate your union? Invite as many people as you like. Jubert would look forward to the challenge. I am happy to turn my home into a woodland scene for you.”

  Jubert was his chef, and his offer of Jubert’s services was a rare honor. “Or a gambling hell?” she said.

  His eyes lit with a devilish light. “Rouge et noir, vingt et un, dice. We’d dress the servants as Mollies and Black Legs and serve blue ruin and champagne. What a sensational party that would be.”

  She pretended to hit his arm. “Anne would never allow it.”

  “It’s not for Anne to say yea or nay.” His attention sharpened on her. “It’s your wedding celebration. You need only send the bills to me.”

  “I don’t think Bracebridge would approve of either offer, however kindly intended.” She stopped smiling. “Not a party and certainly not me sending you bills.”

  He remained amused. “A wise husband allows his wife to entertain as she sees fit. That’s a lesson I’ve learned.”

  “Bracebridge would never.”

  “Why? You forget I’ve seen the cost to outfit you for Town. It’s not nearly what it might be. You Sinclair women are a frugal lot.”

  She laughed. “I don’t feel a party with the theme of a gaming hell is the impression Bracebridge ought to make.”

  The duke put a hand over his heart and adopted a puppy-dog look. “You’re certain?”

  “Yes.”

  He blew out a breath. “I confess to some disappointment. However, I stand ready to assist in whatever you plan, here or in London.”

  “No party. He would not want one.”

  “If you are to be a wife soon set aside, an extravagant party would provide an opportunity to build helpful rumors.”

  She kicked away a pebble on the path. “There is no reason Bracebridge and I must live together. Many married couples do not.”

  “After they have been fruitful, yes.”

  She stared at her feet. Certain mysteries of life had become clearer with personal experience. Cynssyr and Anne. Good heavens.

  “You might refuse him that.”

  The back of her neck and her cheeks flamed with heat. She could not look at him. “I doubt I have the will for that.”

  He cleared his throat. “There is one matter in which I intend to meddle, no matter what you say, and that is providing for your future security. It’s difficult to protect your interests after the fact. At this point, it might even be impossible. However, I do intend to settle property upon any children you might bear, legitimate or otherwise, for your use in your lifetime.”

  She continued to stare at her feet. He meant if she were unfaithful to her husband.

  “I don’t expect Bracebridge to be unreasonable about this. Please believe you will not be left without resources.”

  “That’s very generous.”

  “I’ve a moldy castle or two somewhere, I’m sure. You might find one of them will do.”

  “Have you got one with a ghost?”

  He waved as if describing a fortress on a hill. “The one I am thinking of has been haunted since the days of the illustrious Henry VII.”

  She righted herself in this most unbelievable of conversations and smiled with the express intention of setting Cynssyr on his heels. His eyes did widen. She knew the look well. “It sounds delightful,” she said.

  “I always intended for you to have a settlement when you married. I put aside funds for you and Lucy shortly after Anne and I were wed. My idea, not Anne’s, by the way. Or at least, if I’m to be entirely fair, I had the idea before Anne came to me with the same request. I’ll not have any man wishing his wife had brought something to the marriage besides her heart.”

  She was absurdly grateful he hadn’t said beauty.

  “A most generous spirit.” He took her hand in his again. “You are a delightful, lovely woman. There is a reason you are so well liked. I know Bracebridge. I know him well.” He released her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Not every man deserves the woman he marries. If your marriage becomes intolerable, tell me. I will do what I can. Will you promise me that much? That you will tell me if your situation becomes unendurable?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  What the devil? The morning following the arrival of the Duke and Duchess of Cynssyr, Bracebridge stood at the side of his house in breeches and shirt, mouth open. A line of carriages stretched from the front door and around the first curve of the driveway and past. Two footmen were outside assisting passengers from carriages, pointing drivers toward the stables, or directing other servants to drive the same direction.

  He’d gone out for a morning breather, an essential part of his training regimen, then into Hinderhead to spar, and now this? He wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

  He ought to have expected this. His neighbors had descended upon Corth Abbey because the long-unmarried, scandalous Earl of Bracebridge had secured a countess. That, and the fact that the Duke and Duchess of Cynssyr were present. Word generally got around when Cynssyr called.

  The length of the line suggested that gentry from well beyond Hinderhead had called, too. He glanced at the front parlor window and saw the owners of those carriages crowding the room. Thank goodness Anne and Cynssyr were here to handle everything. Not that he thought Emily incapable, but for a second night, neither of them had slept much. One could hardly expect a bride as young and inexperienced as Emily to cope with a crush of visiting strangers.

  A drop of sweat trickled down the back of his neck and reminded him he was not appropriately dressed and that he ought not allow anyone to see him. His valet swooped in the moment he entered his quarters via the private entrance at the back of the house.

  “My lord,” Keller said as he caught the shirt Bracebridge stripped off and tossed at him.

  “How long have the vultures been here?” He peeled off the rest of his clothes and touched a sore spot on his upper chest. When he was at Corth Abbey, he frequently sparred with a fighter who had retired to ownership of a tavern in Hinderhead. While he had bruises to show for the outing, so did his sparring partner.

  “They began arriving promptly at ten o’clock, my lord.”

  It was now going on noon. Emily had been alone with those people for going on two hours.

  “Thank goodness the duchess is here to see that all is in order.”

  Keller stropped a razor while they spoke. They had their routine. A fresh suit was laid out; polished shoes, ready. He stepped to the basin and picked up the cloth next to a jar of fragrant salve. “His Grace and the duchess departed shortly after you went out this morning.”

  Bracebridge stared at his valet. “Do you mean to say she’s down there alone with every woman from t
he parish and Lord only knows how many others?”

  “Yes, my lord.” Keller took over washing away the dirt and sweat of Bracebridge’s training.

  “Someone should have sent for me.”

  Keller looked horrified, and under any other circumstance, this would have been the appropriate response. The entire staff was used to staffing a bachelor’s household and, subsequently, knew his training was not to be interrupted.

  “I do not wish to be interrupted. Nothing has changed about that. But I am a married man now. The rules must necessarily be relaxed.”

  “My lord.”

  “I’ll have a word with Pond.” He thought of that line of carriages. Emily must be overwhelmed. “News travels quickly.”

  “Indeed, my lord.”

  Further conversation was delayed while Keller shaved him. No doubt Bracebridge’s marriage had become common knowledge within an hour of their arrival at Corth Abbey and grew widespread once Pond engaged that young woman as a lady’s maid. Not to mention purchases had been made for Emily.

  Of course everyone knew. Of course callers descended. Whatever disaster was unfolding in the parlor, the fault was his and his alone.

  Keller wiped the remaining lather from Bracebridge’s face. “Her ladyship herself assured us there was no need to fetch you.”

  He declined to inform Keller that Emily was in over her head. If the staff had not already realized that, they soon would. She had no experience with a household the size of his. The Cooperage was in no way comparable. “The cream waistcoat, I think,” Bracebridge said. “With the gold stitching.”

  “An excellent choice, my lord.” Keller retreated to the wardrobe to fetch the garment Bracebridge normally wore only for formal or official events.

  He entered the parlor unnoticed, wondering whether the din signaled a success or something more ominous. Pond had opened the doors to the connecting salon to accommodate the crowd. Bracebridge recognized many of the guests, but not all: his immediate neighbors, anyone from Hinderhead with pretensions to gentility, and several from nearby villages.

  Most everyone seemed to be smiling and holding glasses and plates of food. The kitchen must be an absolute madhouse now, for footmen strolled among the guests with trays of food and drink or discreetly removed abandoned plates and glasses. Farther inside the parlor, the scene was familiar to anyone who had ever been at a London crush attended by the Divine Sinclair.

  His wife was the center of attention, absolutely radiant.

  Fortunately, it appeared, the single men with whom he kept company knew better than to call without an indication from him that he intended to continue the acquaintance, but there were others who were obviously sons or scions of the leading families.

  Despite the crowd, somehow Emily knew he was here, for she stood and caught his eye. He’d seen her in that gown nearly every day for the past fortnight, and still she took his breath. A flash of empathy for her got caught up in his reaction. He’d taken her from a situation not to her liking and put her into one where she would not have what she deserved. Plenty of better men than he genuinely loved her.

  If he hadn’t taken her off to Scotland to make a point to her father, one of those men would eventually have been her husband. Someone who loved her; someone who appreciated her intellect, her wit, and the joy with which she approached life. He’d denied her that.

  His regret was complicated by vivid memories of her naked and in his arms. Her mouth. The taste of her. Her whispering his name. Her utter abandon to the act of marital intimacy. Being inside her while she clung to him. He yearned to take her aside right now.

  They would find a way to make a life together. There would be no grand love, no exalted emotion, but there were grounds for mutual respect.

  Someone tapped his arm. “My lord?”

  He swung his head to his left to see Mrs. Iddings, the matriarch of one of Hinderhead’s leading families and a woman who thoroughly disapproved of him. She sank into a curtsey. To her credit, her greeting managed to convey respect without pretending they were on good terms. For Emily’s sake, he could do the same.

  The Iddingses lived on the opposite side of Hinderhead from Corth Abbey. Mr. Iddings was not the sort to frequent the likes of Two Fives, or to attend parties to which Bracebridge had also been invited, so Bracebridge had mercifully little to do with either of them. The Iddingses had a daughter, but he knew only that she existed and was roughly Emily’s age.

  “Mrs. Iddings,” he said with a bow. “Welcome to Corth Abbey.”

  “I am here,” she said, “because of your wife.”

  He maintained a pleasant smile. “How delightful.”

  “We are exceedingly fond of Lady Bracebridge at Fontain.” Fontain was the Iddings’ estate.

  “I appreciate your kind words.”

  Her attention focused on him. Mrs. Iddings was a handsome woman who had once given him a direct cut and had not addressed him since. “When we heard the news of her marriage, we came immediately.”

  Her marriage. Did she mean to insult him? Emily hadn’t got married by herself, after all. He knew how to smile at people who thought they were better than he, so he did just that at Mrs. Iddings. “I was not aware you were acquainted with Lady Bracebridge.”

  “We consider her a dear friend.” Mrs. Iddings cleared her throat, and he gave her his attention once more. She drew him aside, away from the crowd forming to greet him. “My lord.” She curtseyed again, and the reprobate in him hoped she hated the necessity of all that bowing and my lord-ing. He was Bracebridge, and she had best not forget that fact. “May I beg a moment of your time?”

  Nothing would have given him more pleasure than to send her away with a curt no. “Certainly.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  He restrained himself from asking her to get on with it. Emily would need allies if she stayed in at Corth Abbey, and Mrs. Iddings would be an important one.

  “Your condescension is appreciated,” she said. “Do please accept my heartfelt congratulations on your marriage. Mr. Iddings and I wish Lady Bracebridge all the happiness in the world.”

  Her sincerity took him aback almost as much as her exclusion of him from her wishes of happiness. For an absurd moment, he actually thought, I shall be very bloody happy, thank you. “I shall relay your sentiments to Lady Bracebridge.”

  Mrs. Iddings clasped her hands beneath her chin, gathering herself for the continuing effort of being polite to a man of whom she disapproved. “You are exceedingly lucky to have won her heart.”

  “I am indeed.” He put his hands behind his back and curled his fingers around one wrist. The poor woman was floundering, and he took pity on her. For Emily’s sake. “You are perhaps unaware that I have known the Sinclair family for many years.”

  “Lady Bracebridge mentioned her acquaintance with you once she learned we lived in Hinderhead.” She took a short breath, obviously coming to a decision about what she intended to say to him. Thank God. He’d been in the parlor hardly ten minutes, and he was at his limit of good behavior.

  “My lord. Mr. Iddings and I have not pursued as warm an acquaintance with you as we might have, given how close Corth Abbey is to Fontain. You came here a bachelor, and your frequent visitors were of a sort we were unused to seeing in Hinderhead.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. He would not ruin Emily’s friendship with this woman. He would not. Pray God, he would not. “I commend you for keeping better company than I.”

  She squinted across the room, but when he followed her look, he saw nothing there to pique her interest: several young ladies and a corresponding number of fathers, brothers, and other male relations. She returned her attention to him. “You have married the most generous, caring, and loyal young woman it has ever been my pleasure to know. I do confess to you that when she was introduced to us, I was concerned about her influence on my daughter. Given her family, I am sure you understand.”

  “We shall quarrel if you mean her sister, the du
chess.”

  “I consider it an honor to know Her Grace.” She lifted her chin. “But her father, the scandal of her sister’s first marriage—”

  “You mean the present Lady Thrale?”

  She swallowed. “Lady Bracebridge has been an excellent friend to my daughter, and I could not, in good conscience, fail to pay my respects or tell you of our regard for your wife.”

  “Indeed?” He knew how to behave in public, but he was hard pressed not to tell Mrs. Iddings that he did not consider her opinion much of a recommendation. Emily, however, deserved his discretion. He had no wish to be the cause of difficulties between Emily and her friends.

  “Our regard for Lady Bracebridge knows no bounds. She is all that is charming and gentle. So intelligent. Such a delight. Say what you will about her father, her character is exemplary.” Mrs. Iddings pressed his arm. “All of this is familiar to you, I am sure, and I do commend your good sense and judgment. You have married an exceptional woman. All of us at Fontain hope to continue our acquaintance with your wife.”

  He gave her a half bow. “I leave our social calendar entirely to Lady Bracebridge.” True or not, the words rolled smoothly from his lips. As for him, well, if he must tolerate a house full of people more often than he liked, he would. He would even tolerate Mrs. Iddings.

  The woman beamed at him. “Very wise of you, my lord. I think you shall find a wife convenient in many ways, not the least of which is managing one’s social calendar.”

  He inclined his head. “Thank you for your good wishes. Lady Bracebridge and I appreciate that very much.” He took a breath and adopted the most ingratiating manner possible. “We are fortunate to have the support of a woman such as yourself.”

  Mrs. Iddings considered him for a long moment, and smiled in a way he had not seen from her before. He almost believed she meant it. “You are too kind, my lord.”

  She curtseyed and made her escape while Bracebridge stood, bemused and confounded. Guests descended upon him, eager to pay their respects. For the next half hour at least, he shook hands, greeted people he barely recalled, and was introduced to people whose names he’d never known and promptly forgot. He had not been the best neighbor; he was the first to admit that.