The Singular Mr. Sinclair

by Mia Marlowe

  But when the silence stretched into half a minute, Caroline realized Horatia’s breathing had turned slow and measured. She was already asleep.

  “Good night, Freddie,” Caroline said.

  Frederica waggled her fingers in good night to avoid disturbing their friend’s slumber. Then she tucked the coverlet up to her chin to join Horatia in sleep.

  Alice pulled back the coverlet on the daybed and plumped the pillows for Caroline. “Did you have a fine evening then, my lady?”

  “Yes, we did.” Caroline couldn’t very well tell her maid that she’d barely escaped the fine evening with her reputation intact.

  “Well, you would have had a fine evening, wouldn’t you, because you were with that Mr. Sinclair—”

  “And my brothers,” Caroline said, then added for good measure, “and my friends.”

  “Oh, yes, and a grand party you must have made of it, too. That’s nice, then. My Dudley—you’ll remember him, my lady—he’s been first footman for ever so long, only now he’s valet to young Mr. Sinclair since he came to Lovell House. Remember Dudley, do you?”

  “Yes, of course.” Who could forget a footman clumsy enough to drop a serving spoon down a guest’s gown? Caroline was certain her father would have let Dudley go a long time ago if the young man hadn’t been Price’s nephew. Even her father didn’t want to tangle with the butler over questions about the staff. Price was Lord Chatham’s right hand in matters domestic. Lovell House would surely run aground without Mr. Price at the helm.

  But the butler would do well to keep his nephew on a very short leash.

  “In any case,” Alice went on, “Dudley says as he’d like to be promoted to valet full time.”

  “There’s no reason for a permanent promotion; Mr. Sinclair is only here as a temporary guest of Lord Bredon.” Then again, after the spoon debacle, keeping Dudley far from the table was something devoutly to be wished.

  “Still, Dudley says as he’s never served such a fine, kindhearted gentleman as Mr. Sinclair,” Alice said with persistence.

  “Dudley’s never been valet to anyone before, so that’s hardly a ringing endorsement,” Caroline said.

  “That’s true. Only it’s just that when you’re in service, well, you get a sense about people. How they are in their hearts, mind. There’s those you serve because it’s your job, and you try not to care when they treat you like a piece of furniture. Then there’s those you serve because they appreciate what you do for ’em and it makes you feel your work means something. I know it may not seem like much, but for the likes of us, it makes a difference.”

  “A difference between dignity and drudgery,” Caroline said thoughtfully. Lawrence, who noticed frost sparkling on the grass and his horse’s breath ghosting the air, would be the sort to notice Dudley’s efforts, even if they were less than skillful. “I hope I’ve never treated you like furniture.”

  “Oh, no. You’re always kind, my lady. Not at all like some I could name.” Alice rolled her eyes toward Horatia’s sleeping form. Caroline smiled at that. Alice was always adept at speaking her mind, even when she didn’t come right out and say it with words.

  When her maid started to help her disrobe, Caroline waved her away. “I’ve already kept you up too late. When did you start work this morning?”

  Alice shrugged. “My days all start with the sun, my lady.”

  “Go on to bed then, Alice. Dancing keys me up. I believe I shall sit awhile.”

  “But, my lady—”

  “This gown is easy enough to remove. Just a tab or two to untie. Go. You’ve more than earned a rest.”

  The maid mumbled her thanks, curtsied, and left. Caroline turned down the lamp and settled into the small rocker by the fire. She hoped the hypnotic flames would soothe her, but something Mr. Sinclair had said kept tumbling around in her mind. Frederica wasn’t snoring yet. Even at the risk of waking her friend, there was something Caroline needed to say.

  “Freddie?”

  “Hmmm?” From the drowsy tone, it was clear Frederica had been almost asleep.

  “I wonder if it would be better not to accept Lord Rowley’s request for the supper dance.”

  “Why?”

  She couldn’t very well tell her that Mr. Sinclair had urged her to convince Freddie to turn Rowley down. She’d only ask why again, and Caroline had no reason to give her.

  Only the honest concern in Lawrence’s eyes.

  “By giving him the supper dance, you’re granting him most of your evening,” Caroline said. “What if you should meet someone at the ball you fancy spending time with more than Lord Rowley?”

  “I doubt I’ll do that.”

  Caroline hadn’t expected meeting Lawrence would unsettle her plans either, but whether she wanted to admit it or not, it had. “What about Ben?”

  “Before you came down, Horatia said Benjamin was just teasing me. She’s probably right. She often is,” Freddie said, as if trying to convince herself. “Ben has always teased me.”

  “That was when you were just a little girl. You’re a young woman now,” Caroline said. “Ben’s a bit slow about noticing things, always caught up in his music or one of his other passions, but even he is aware of how you’ve blossomed.”

  “Well, perhaps,” Frederica whispered.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if my brother sent you some posies.”

  “I would. I fear he’s just as likely to come at me with that foul insect collection of his again. Do you remember when he tossed a small black thing at my head and yelled ‘Cricket’?”

  “I’m sure Ben regrets that now.”

  “He should. I tore out a good deal of my hair before you calmed me down enough to show me it was only a bit of yarn.” Frederica sounded more indignant than Caroline had ever heard her, but she suspected Horatia was right about one thing: Freddie wouldn’t protest this much unless she was a little bit sweet on Ben.

  “The cricket incident happened a long time ago. It’s your Christian duty to forgive him,” Caroline reminded her. “I know. Why don’t you give Ben the supper dance at Lord Frampton’s? It would be a lovely way to show that you aren’t holding a grudge.”

  “I can’t do that, Caro. I’ve already accepted Lord Rowley’s request. I can’t very well tell him no now, can I?”

  “When did you accept him?”

  “He sent around a lovely note the day after we spent that time together at the Academy of Arts. He repeated his request for the supper dance and told his man to wait for my reply. So I wrote him back on the moment,” Frederica said. “Was that wrong?”

  “No, I suppose not,” Caroline said, wishing Mr. Sinclair hadn’t put such doubts in her head. She knew Oliver much better than she knew Mr. Sinclair. Oliver’s family and hers had been friends for generations; their country estates butted up against each other. It had only been a few weeks since Lawrence Sinclair first stepped into the Lovell House parlor. By those lights, she didn’t know him at all.

  Discover his tragedy, her dressmaker’s apprentice had advised. Then you’ll know the man.

  Caroline crossed her arms over her chest. Maybe she didn’t want to know him.

  What little she did know cut up her peace quite enough, thank you very much. Mr. Sinclair made her stop thinking about the independent life she was sure she wanted. For days at a time, she’d forgotten about packing a trunk and sailing away and having adventures. She’d stopped pining for the foreign and unusual and found herself swamped in the everyday.

  She couldn’t allow that.

  Besides, Rowley had only asked Frederica for a dance, only the pleasure of her company at the supper to follow. Where was the harm? Mr. Sinclair would simply have to get over it.

  Just as he’ll have to get over finding himself alone at three o’clock.

  Chapter 11

  Making decisions is like a beach. I’m n
o fan of Brighton, but my choices of late aren’t even as solid as the pebbles there.

  —Lawrence Sinclair, who wished he were at a beach of any sort instead of trapped in the same house as Lady Caroline Lovell

  The longcase clock chimed a quarter past. When the last tone faded, all Lawrence could hear was the wind in the eaves and a few small creaks as the town house squatted a little deeper on its foundations for the night.

  Then Lovell House went as silent as a churchyard.

  She’s not coming.

  He sighed. There was no reason she should. He’d far overstepped himself. He really ought to take his leave in the morning and seek lodgings elsewhere. It had been beyond generous for Bredon to host him as long as he had. No matter what Bredon thought he owed him, the last thing Lawrence wanted was to wear out his welcome.

  Besides, even while in residence at Lovell House, he’d not been allowed much time with Caroline. Passing her in the hallway or seeing her at the far end of the long dining table was becoming increasingly painful. The more time he spent with Bredon’s family, the more aware he was of his own shortcomings. He had no polish, no great wit. He may have been wellborn, but his prospects were murky at best. Especially since he’d heard his uncle was still hale and hearty and in London seeking a young wife. He could so easily be displaced by an infant; he couldn’t count on an heritance of any kind. He had nothing to offer a woman like Lady Caroline.

  Lawrence felt a bit like Moses on the wrong side of the Jordan. He could see the Promised Land, but he could not cross over.

  He still hoped she’d come.

  After another quarter hour, he took his candle in hand and rose to trudge back down to his chamber. But as he neared the stairwell, light from another candle sent a shaft of brightness up to the ballroom. There came a soft tread on the steps and, against all expectation, Caroline appeared.

  “You came,” he said, his voice a scant whisper. His chest constricted strangely.

  “Yes, well…” She seemed to have trouble meeting his gaze. “I expected you would have given up by now and gone on to bed.”

  “So you only came because you didn’t think I’d be here?”

  “No, I only thought you might be…I mean, I hoped you hadn’t…” She set down her candle on a side table and moved into the center of the room. Lawrence followed suit. “That is to say, I was sure you would still be here, if you were serious.”

  “I’m nothing if not serious.”

  “About learning to waltz, I mean,” she added hastily.

  “Of course.” She seemed a bit flustered. He didn’t wish to cause her discomfort. Not for worlds. But the fact that his presence shook her usual poise did his heart good for some odd reason. “What else might I be serious about besides waltzing at present?”

  “Indeed, Lord Frampton’s upcoming ball is the only reason we’re both here.” She crossed her arms over her chest, as if daring him to dispute the matter. But from her tone, Lawrence guessed she was trying to convince herself and wasn’t having much success. “If you asked me to join you because you were serious about anything else, meeting like this would be…”

  “Improper?” he supplied. Helpfully, he thought.

  “Quite.” She nodded with vigor. “Above all else, we must not be improper.”

  “No, we won’t be,” he promised as he moved closer to her. She dropped her arms, but now her hands fiddled nervously with the diaphanous sides of her gown. “Being improper would be exceedingly bad form.”

  “We wouldn’t want that.” She stopped fiddling and finally met his gaze.

  “No.” He stepped closer, near enough that he heard a little hitch in her breathing. “We certainly…” Closer. “Wouldn’t…” She tipped up her chin and her lips parted. “Want…” Her sweet breath feathered across his lips.

  Her mouth was so near he could almost taste it. If he bent only a little, he’d close the distance between them. In all his life, he’d never seen anything as fine as Caroline Lovell. Just being near her made him feel stronger. And weaker. He didn’t pretend to understand the paradox. He only knew it was so.

  If he kissed her, everything would change. They could never go back to a time when they hadn’t shared a single breath. He’d have a part of her always. If he could kiss Lady Caroline Lovell just once, his time on earth would not have been wasted.

  Was it his imagination or did she raise herself up on tiptoe just a bit?

  Then, in the exact instant when he’d screwed his courage to take her mouth, she turned away and broke the spell.

  “If we’re going to do this, we must be quick about it,” Caroline said, suddenly all business. “First, we must make a good frame.”

  Lawrence felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut.

  By a draft horse.

  He and Lady Caroline had teetered on the edge of something together, but she seemed determined to pretend that moment hadn’t happened.

  Perhaps for her it hadn’t.

  He drew a deep breath and spread his arms. “Once again, I am yours to command. I believe that’s what you said all women want to hear, is it not?”

  “Somehow I doubt you’d take my commands well.”

  He wanted to say, Ask me to climb to the top of St. Paul’s. Bid me swim the Thames all the way to the sea. Shall I run from here to Snowdon and back for you, my lady? Just say the word.

  Instead, he said, “I shall obey your wishes.” Then he assumed the first dance position she’d taught him earlier that evening.

  He wished he had the courage to give voice to his feelings. No one who’d served with Lawrence would ever name him cravenhearted. He was always first in, last out of any action. But when it came to Caroline Lovell, he bore a white feather.

  If he could find the words to express what he felt and release them to her hearing, it would amount to a declaration. A declaration she was certain to stomp on.

  Then it would be over.

  Hope wasn’t much, but it was all he had. As long as he kept everything bottled up, he could still hope.

  “What do you wish me to do?” he asked.

  Her brows tented in distress. “What if I ask you to leave Lovell House and never return?”

  He had been gut-kicked again, and this time the kicking horse had brought along a friend. “Have I offended you?”

  “No,” she said with a sigh. “But you’ve put me at risk of public censure if we are found alone together. You made me toss out everything I’ve been taught. You cut up my peace so dreadfully that I couldn’t sleep. You should never have demanded I meet you like this.”

  “It was hardly a demand.” Besides, she’d made the decision to come. He’d only asked. She could have ignored his request.

  “It was a dare, at the least.” Even in the low light of the candles, her eyes flashed.

  “And you can’t resist a dare.”

  “Oh, but you knew that and used my very nature against me,” she accused. “How could I rest, knowing you would think me a coward if I stayed away?”

  “I’d never think you a coward. In fact, I doubt you fear anything.”

  “I’m not afraid of you, at least,” she said with a firm nod. Then her certainty seemed to crumble. “Besides, even if I was, didn’t you tell me that fear has nothing to do with cowardice?”

  “I did.” They may not have had many conversations, but she seemed to remember a good deal of what he’d said. “I could never work against you, and I am sorry to have disturbed your peace. My intentions toward you are only good.”

  Well, most of them.

  “There is a place, they say, which is paved with good intentions,” she said, pacing like a caged lynx, “but I’ve a feeling neither of us wish to summer there.”

  Actually, Lawrence already felt as if he had one foot in hell. He couldn’t bear to be without this woman. And she couldn’t seem to bear
to be with him.

  “My apologies. Because you wish it, I shall quit Lovell House immediately.” He crossed the hardwood to retrieve his candle.

  “No, wait.”

  He turned back to her.

  “I…I didn’t ask you to leave,” she said, even more perturbed now. “I only said what if I asked you to.”

  He shook his head. “When you told me you were changeable as a weathercock, you certainly didn’t lie. I’m out of my depth, Caroline. Which is it to be? Do I stay or go?”

  “I want you to…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t go.”

  “Why?”

  Bredon had warned him that women change their minds as often as their frocks, but Lawrence had thought he was exaggerating. He’d never doubt his friend again.

  “Because I…because we haven’t…” She lifted her hands and shrugged, as if she, too, were perplexed by her own behavior. “Because you don’t know how to waltz yet.”

  “So far, my teacher seems less than willing.”

  “One lesson, then, as long as we’re both awake and here and…” Again, she shrugged and sighed. “This is just so you can make a decent showing at Lord Frampton’s, mind.”

  “Of course, my lady.” He wouldn’t dream of calling her Caroline now. She might take offense at that little intimacy, even though she’d allowed it before. “I thank you.”

  “And so should the toes of your future partners,” she said, smiling for the first time since she’d joined him in the dim ballroom.

  He grinned back at her. She might be the most vexing woman in the world, but he wouldn’t change places with another soul on earth. It was enough simply to be in the same room with her. “How shall we begin?”

  “Raise your left arm like so.”

  He mirrored her movement and slowly, she slipped her right hand into his left one. It was small and icy. He wished he could hold it close to his heart to warm it, but after narrowly escaping eviction, he decided his best course of action was to take no action that wasn’t expressly dictated.