The Sweetest Sin

by Kelly Boyce

  “It was unintentional, I assure you. I didn’t mean to kiss her.”

  “Is that so? Did your lips simply slip and fall upon hers then?” James flexed his hand, though whether due to soreness from the first blow or because he wished to deliver another one, Alex could not say.

  “We exchanged words at the Lindwell’s ball. She felt she had spoken out of turn and wished to apologize so she sought me out. She found me on the terrace. I told her it was unnecessary and given that we were alone, advised her to return to the ballroom, but she insisted on having her say.”

  “And what—then you kissed and made up? Tell me how this happened, Alex!” James’s anger radiated outward, pressing against him. Alex tried to find a suitable answer, a reasoning that would explain what had happened, but the truth remained as elusive now as it had the moment she’d walked away from him after the kiss had occurred.

  “I don’t know how it happened. One moment we were speaking and she was walking away and the next—”

  “She was walking away? If she was walking away, pray tell how you then managed to kiss her?”

  “I pulled her back.” The well of guilt washed over the edges and spilled through him. If only he had let her go, but it had felt so wrong to do so. He straightened and met James’s furious gaze. “I pulled her back,” he repeated.

  Held her. Kissed her.

  This time, he did see it coming, but did nothing to avoid it. He let James’s fist slam against his cheekbone with a ferocity only a brother who loved his sister dearly could deliver. Alex didn’t try to stop him. Not then and not when the blows kept coming.

  “Fight back, you bastard!”

  But Alex refused. He had nothing to fight for. Not his honor. If he’d had enough of that, they wouldn’t be having his altercation. If he’d had any honor at all, he would have ignored Henrietta’s request to say nothing about the kiss to her brother and admitted his folly from the get go, doing whatever was needed to make recompense for his misdeed.

  The only thing he wouldn’t do—couldn’t do—was regret kissing her, as that had been the only ray of light he’d experienced in more years than he cared to recall. Her kiss had opened a door, only a crack perhaps, but enough that hope had slipped through. The hope that the weight he’d carried for so long might not be forever. And he’d needed that, more than he’d realized. Her kiss had breathed life into him, into a body that had gone too long without feeling any goodness at all. He’d let her and in the process betrayed his oldest—his only—true friend. So no, he would not fight back.

  Alex raised his arms, protecting his head and took his due as the blows hit his stomach and ribs and forearms.

  “James! What is the meaning of this?”

  The blows stopped and Alex slowly lowered his arms, staggering to catch his balance. A few feet away from him, James, glared at him like the Devil incarnate, seething with anger and malice. In the doorway, her hand still resting against the door handle, stood Henrietta, her blonde hair tied in a loose ribbon and cascading over her shoulder in thick waves. Behind her stood Lady Ottley, her hand over her mouth as she stared at the two men in horror.

  James glared at Henrietta and Alex was overcome with the need to put himself between them should he think to blame his sister for what had occurred between them.

  “It was not her fault,” he said. He did not want to fight James, but he would if he thought to berate Henrietta for what they had shared.

  “You’re damn right it wasn’t.”

  Alex remained unmoved. “I will make this right.”

  Henrietta walked farther into the room, staring at Alex with a mix of anger and disbelief. He was not sure she had ever looked more beautiful. Then again, he thought that every time he saw her anew.

  “Did you tell him? I cannot believe you did such a foolish thing! You know how overprotective he is.” Alex had no time to respond before she turned to her brother. “It was nothing, James. Only a kiss. And I initiated it, so stop blaming Alexander.”

  “Alexander? You call him by his given name?” James’s hands clenched and unclenched.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, we have known each other most of my life. I think I can stop referring to him as Lord Rothbury, don’t you?”

  “No, I do not! In fact, I do not want you to refer to him at all. This man”—James jabbed an accusing finger in Alex’s direction—“is now dead to me and he will be to you as well.”

  She gave her brother an exasperated look. “You are overreacting, James. Calm down and let us discuss this like—”

  But James ignored his sister and turned to Alex. “You will collect your daughter and remove yourself from my home immediately!”

  Alex shook his head. He could not leave things like this. “Not before we—”

  “I will not allow you to take my granddaughter!”

  Alex looked over Henrietta’s shoulder to Lady Ottley. “You will not allow me?”

  Ruth’s mother stepped forward, her face red and her expression a mix of disgust and resolve. “You are a disreputable hothead lacking in scruples. I will not allow that poor child to be raised by a man who cannot restrain himself and has so little disregard for propriety.”

  Alex’s anger redirected itself with swift purpose. “You, madam, have no say in the matter of anything to do with my daughter.”

  “Your daughter? Indeed.” The words scoffed at him. “She is more my blood than yours and we both know it.”

  Henrietta gasped and rage swept through Alex. Ruth had promised to never reveal the truth of Margaret’s parentage to anyone, not even her parents. Another lie she had told him. Another betrayal to add to the pile.

  “She is my daughter and shall remain so. And any word to the contrary will be met with immediate consequences.” Alex crossed the room to where Lady Ottley stood, each step filled with purpose until he towered over the much smaller woman who threatened to bring down the carefully constructed world he’d created around the girl he’d claimed as his own. “Should you so much as breathe a word that will disparage Margaret or cause her future hardship, you will never set eyes upon her again. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Alexander—” Henrietta’s hand upon his arm calmed him enough to hold back throttling this interfering woman who had spent the last seven years threatening to take Margaret from him as if it were her right. Perhaps he should have given her up, given in to their demands. Likely Ruth would have preferred her daughter to be raised by her parents instead of him. But Ruth was no longer here and he was the only parent Margaret had left. Despite his feelings surrounding her conception, he would not abandon her. He couldn’t.

  Any more than he could abandon Henrietta to face her brother’s ire. He stepped away from Lady Ottley to face James. “I am offering to marry Henrietta.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Alexander, this is completely unnecessary—”

  “No.” James’s answer cut her off without hesitation.

  “No?” What else did James want from him if not to make this right? “And why not?”

  James pulled his shoulders back, his tall posture as uncompromising as death. “Because I wish my sister to marry a man who will love and respect her, who will treat her in the manner to which she deserves. I want her to have a happy life. Can you give her that?”

  Alex said nothing. What could he say? Happiness was not a commodity he traded in. Not a sensation he had any experience with in recent memory or for any prolonged period of time. James knew this better than anyone. And he would allow nothing less but happiness for his sister.

  “Get out and do not come back,” James said, disappointment filling his voice. “Hell has a better chance of freezing over before I allow you to marry my sister.”

  The finality of James’s words, of the realization he had just lost the one true friend he possessed and along with him the woman who had moved him to act with such folly, descended upon him with enough weight to drive him straight through the floor.


  He searched James’s face for any hint of leniency, any hope this breach of trust might be overcome. He found nothing. And when his gaze left James to find Henrietta all he saw in her expression was sadness, as if she knew the cost of what they had done and understood there would be no coming back from it.

  Alex did not remember a time, save for Edward’s death, when such darkness had shrouded him, removing any hope of ever experiencing the light again.

  “I will collect my daughter then and go.”

  And so he did, offering Lady Margaret no explanation other than that they were off to visit Grandmother and Grandfather, a proposition that filled her with a joy Alex could not share.

  * * *

  “I am so pleased you have come,” Lady Franklyn said, studying the pretty floral pattern sewn into the muslin overlay of her day dress. The duchess’s nervousness was a palpable thing. Likely she felt as awkward as Hen, given the current acrimony between James and Alexander that colored their world. “Between my daughter’s past behavior and now the dissidence between your brother and my stepson, I feared you would not accept my invitation.”

  Hen could not deny the past week had been abysmal, with James stomping about the house in a foul mood and Hen missing having Lady Margaret underfoot. The young girl had been a breath of fresh air and her sudden absence proved far more distressing than Hen had thought it would.

  Auntie straightened in her seat, a hand resting upon the handle of her well-polished walking stick. Despite the fact that Lady Franklyn, as a duchess, outranked her great-aunt, the great Lady Dalridge was not one to be trifled with and the ton respected her as such, regardless of their rank. She addressed Lady Franklyn in an imperious tone. “And what is it that you believe has happened?”

  Hen’s aunt had missed the commotion that had occurred in the study, only catching wind something was afoot when she came out of her bedchamber as Alexander and Lady Margaret were coming down the hallway. Although Alexander had claimed their departure was only to visit his parents, Auntie was no fool. And when James was too angry to speak of what had happened, it was left to Hen, who had only the part of the story she had witnessed and the rest she had pieced together with less detail. She still had no idea what had set the conversation in motion and led Alexander to admit to James they had kissed.

  Her aunt had been less than pleased by Hen’s confession, but said little beyond telling her that a lady of quality did not go about kissing handsome men on garden terraces at parties where anyone could have come upon them.

  Whether this meant it was perfectly acceptable to kiss a handsome man on a terrace where no one could witness said kiss, Hen was still unclear.

  Lady Franklyn sighed and waved a hand in the air. She appeared tired and thinner than Hen recalled her to be, as if a great weight pressed down about her and she grew weary of carrying it about, yet could not put it down. “To be honest, I cannot claim knowledge of the details, only that Alexander and Lord Ridgemont have had a disagreement of sorts.”

  “Did Lord Rothbury say as much?” Hen asked.

  Lady Franklyn shook her head. “No. My stepson does not confide in me. But that does not mean I do not see what goes on within my own household. Alexander has been visibly upset since returning from Harrow House with Margaret. I am left with the impression he and Lord Ridgemont have had some kind of falling out. Given their close friendship, I can only imagine the grief this has caused him.”

  “I see,” Auntie said. “And what is it that you hope to accomplish by asking us here?”

  “I wish to take steps to rectify the situation.”

  “I fear that repairing such a rift may be beyond your capabilities, my dear. Not all grievances mend as we would like.”

  Hen didn’t care much for her aunt’s pronouncement. She had been trying for the past week to gently convince James to speak to Alexander, insisting he was making more out of the situation than was warranted, but her brother would hear nothing of it. As far as he was concerned, he could no longer trust the man he’d considered a brother and even went so far as to forbid Hen from speaking his name in his presence again.

  Heavens, men could be in equal parts foolish and stubborn!

  “I had hoped to convince you to attend the ball we will be holding three days hence. And that perhaps you may also convince Lord Ridgemont to attend as well. Honestly, Alexander has been an absolute bear to live with this past week, but he is a bear with a thorn in his paw. He roars because he is hurt and I know from past experience that there is little I can do to fix it.”

  “And you think we can?” Auntie asked. “Or that we care to?”

  Lady Franklyn stared hopelessly at Auntie then turned to Hen. “He speaks very highly of you, Lady Henrietta. And while I have no right to ask anything of you, given how abominably my daughter has treated you, I hope you will agree to assist in this matter for Alexander’s sake. He did, after all, take you in during your convalescence, did he not?”

  Auntie banged her walking stick against the floor with a sharp snap. “And you think Lady Henrietta should repay him for this?”

  Lady Franklyn shook her head. “No. Forgive me. I did not mean to suggest such. It is just that…” She let out a long breath. “I thought perhaps a bond had formed between the two of you during that time and that therefore you would want to help.”

  “I do wish to help, Lady Franklyn,” Hen said. “But I am unsure of how much assistance I might offer. You see, I am the reason for the rift between them.”

  “You? I—I don’t understand.”

  “Henrietta, I do not think this is something that needs to be—”

  Hen waved off her aunt’s warning. “I am certain what I say will go no farther than this room. Am I correct in this assumption, my lady?”

  Lady Franklyn nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  Hen glanced at her aunt who lifted a hand in surrender then returned her gaze to the duchess. “Alexander and I shared a kiss.”

  Lady Franklyn’s shock was palpable, the admission causing her to bolt upright in her seat. Why did everyone seem so shocked by this? Yes, of course, it was improper and she was, by all other standards, a perfectly proper lady. This made their actions surprising, but it was almost as if their shock came from somewhere else. Something else. Such as the fact that Alexander would want to kiss her. That anyone would want to kiss her. Because the scars upon her neck that continued on beneath her clothing made her undesirable. Unworthy of that kind of attention.

  Anger shivered up her spine. Such opinions wore thinner the further into the Season they went. How she tired of the constant whispers and judgments and surprise that she would step outside her home and show her scars in public.

  Hen lifted her hand to where her hair trailed over her shoulder. She was not the sum of her scars. Alexander never made her feel so. He had seen beyond such and reminded her of her value. It was high time she embraced this belief. She wound her fingers around the hank of hair she used to cover her scars and tossed it back over her shoulder in defiance.

  The motion forced Lady Franklyn’s eyes wider, but from within them, Hen caught a growing respect. The duchess gave a slight nod of her head as if to acknowledge she understood the gesture and the courage it took to make.

  When she spoke, her voice had regained the strength she was known for. “If Alexander has compromised you in any way then we shall ensure he is held accountable for such.”

  Hen shook her head. “He has not. It was I who kissed him.”

  “He did not run away though, did he?” Auntie asked, her voice rough and wry.

  Hen forced herself not to smile at the memory. He had most definitely not run away. And had she not kissed him, he would have kissed her as he’d indicated only a moment before. Was that not why he had pulled her back? She had simply beaten him to it when he hesitated, fearful if she didn’t act, he might change his mind. Because she did not want him to change his mind, to come to his senses, and let propriety rob her of something she had thought of
far too often since he’d arrived at Harrow House. After all, he had the most perfect mouth for kissing. How she had not noticed such before, she could not say, but she noticed that night and it had been more than she could stand. So she had kissed him. And she did not regret it for a moment. A rather disturbing admission, given it was Lord Walkerton who courted her and not Alexander.

  “No, he did not run away,” she said. “But that does not put him at fault. It was simply a weak moment on both our parts and not one we plan to repeat. Unfortunately, James feels this kiss to be a betrayal by Lord Rothbury and refuses to forgive him for it.”

  Lady Franklyn let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Men. For the life of me, I don’t know how they function in the world with their pride always getting in the way of sensible behavior. Please, Lady Dalridge, Lady Henrietta, I implore you to help me mend the bridge between them. Alexander has cut so many people from his life over the years. The steadfast friendship between him and Lord Ridgemont has offered his father and me great comfort. And now with Lord Franklyn—” She stopped and her gaze dropped to her hands that had begun to fidget once more, her fingers worrying the rings on her opposite hand.

  “Lady Franklyn?” Hen prompted, a fissure of worry filling her belly.

  Lady Franklyn took a deep breath and looked up. “He has been a bit under the weather of late and while he is on the mend now, I do not wish to add to his worry. You see, Lord and Lady Ottley have already made their determination to take Lady Margaret away and raise her themselves clear. They believe Alexander to be unfit to do the job properly and given my former…behaviors…and my daughter’s spiteful nature, they do not think our granddaughter should be allowed to spend time in our company, either.”