Lord of Sin

by Madeline Hunter

  Her hostess was willowy and pale, with a dark head of hair and naturally red lips. Mrs. Duclairc epitomized fragile, feminine grace.

  In the best of circumstances Bride would have suffered in comparison. Dressed in boots and breeches, she probably looked comical sitting across from this lady and her equally beautiful husband.

  “Please do not inconvenience your household, madame. I am not hungry at all.” Worry and fear had made her nauseous. She did not think she could ever eat again. “Although, if a message could be sent to my sisters, Mr. Duclairc, I would be grateful.”

  “I sent one immediately upon our arrival here, so they would know you had come to no harm. Once McLean arrives, a fuller explanation can be sent.”

  Bride did not miss his sympathetic, gentle tone. Mr. Duclairc seemed confident what that explanation would be. He did not expect it to contain good news for her sisters.

  He made an odd gaoler. He was very handsome, with a charming smile. An effortless elegance marked his movements and dress. Lady Mardenford had said her brother Dante had been part of Lyndale’s set until his recent marriage to Fleur, and Bride suspected he had been a very successful bachelor.

  No one could mistake that he was thoroughly married now, however. He treated his wife with a warmth that touched Bride’s heart. The bulge evident beneath Fleur’s undressing gown was not the only reason for his care, either. It was not only the coming child that provoked this man’s love.

  Fleur’s hand instinctively went to her stomach when she saw Bride’s attention there.

  “Perhaps you would like to rest, madame,” Bride said. “I am grateful that you have helped me pass these last hours, but what will transpire next will not be pleasant.”

  “I do nothing but rest. Dante sees to that. If you expect unpleasantness, that is all the more reason for you to have company as you wait. Whatever the reason for this vigil, I am sure that you distress yourself more than is required. Lord Lyndale does not abandon his friends quickly. Is that not so, Dante?”

  Mr. Duclairc nodded, but his agreement was noncommittal. Unlike his wife, he knew just how distressing the current situation was.

  Bride’s hearing had been stretching for hours, listening for the sounds of Lyndale’s arrival. Or that of the police. The effort exhausted her, and her senses had dulled.

  Suddenly they sharpened. Amid the vague noises outside that spoke of a city wakening, she thought she heard horses and wheels.

  She glanced to Mr. Duclairc. His eyes reflected a new concentration. He had heard the carriage, too.

  He rose, and offered his hand to his wife. “It would be best if we left now, Miss Cameron. Come, Fleur. It is past time you returned to bed for the rest Miss Cameron advised.”

  Clearly reluctant, Fleur obeyed, but not before she gave Bride a reassuring smile. “Lord Lyndale is really a very nice man, and much kinder than he pretends. If your fate is in his hands, I do not think that is such a bad place to be.”

  Bride smiled weakly. This gentle, lovely lady had no idea what was at stake. There had been oblique references to the disaster in her presence, but nothing to inform her that the oddly dressed woman in her home had been exposed as a criminal.

  Mr. Duclairc’s parting offered no reassurance. “If I can be of any assistance, Miss Cameron, please do not hesitate to inform me.”

  They left. Minutes later Bride heard distant sounds of a door opening and voices speaking. Her heart pounded out every second. She braced herself.

  She was able to steel her composure, but not her heart. A fissure of regret and sorrow cleaved it in two.

  A figure darkened the doorway. Only one man had come up the stairs. Lyndale was alone.

  No doubt he had come to prepare her before bringing her to the police.

  Bride wanted to embrace him for that consideration, and for so much else. Instead she stayed in her chair during a long pause while he stood there looking at her.

  Finally he crossed the room and sat on the sofa facing her, right where Fleur had just been.

  He appeared quite stern. The good humor that usually softened his countenance was gone.

  “Have you gotten some rest?” he asked.

  “Not really, although Mr. Duclairc did his best to see to my comfort.”

  He relaxed into the sofa’s bulk, as if he intended to stay a while. “Did you fall in love with Dante? All women do. He was the bane of my life before he married. I would pursue women, only to discover half of them were pursuing him. For some reason he seemed safe to them. I never understood that.”

  She had to smile. It made her face feel strange. “I could never fall in love with a man who so obviously loves his wife.”

  “Remarkable, isn’t it? When it happened, I was skeptical at first, but finally I accepted he was besotted.” He looked around the chamber, as if taking an inventory of its holdings. “This is one of the few respectable homes to receive me before I inherited the title. Fleur did not demand Dante end our friendship, and even invited me to their first dinner party. It was a kindness I will never forget.”

  An honest, boyish expression flickered over his face as he said it. Bride bit her lower lip. It was an odd moment for confidences that revealed one’s heart.

  Lyndale gazed at the fireplace as if the flames mesmerized him. Bride branded her mind with his appearance, trying to contain the pain in her heart.

  He turned his gaze directly on her.

  “You really came to London to find those plates, didn’t you? And to find your lover.”

  Her heart cringed at the calm way he referred to Walter. “I became aware the plates were being used. Then I learned one forgery had been passed in London. Of course I had to try and find them. The forging was sure to be discovered.”

  “Fortunately, they did not print too many notes. A thousand pounds’ worth, at most. We caught them just in time. That paper at Twickenham’s was going to be used for one massive haul before they absconded to the Continent with a fortune.”

  “It is fortunate indeed that they were stopped.”

  He cocked his elbow on the sofa’s arm, rested his chin on his fist and regarded her. She tried to fathom what he thought, but his expression remained closed to her.

  “Dante just told me that you explained how it started,” he said. “How your father had used the money from the notes.”

  She had told Mr. Duclairc in the hopes he would tell Lyndale, should she be denied the chance to do so.

  “When I was a girl, my father would leave for a few days and ride south to Sutherland where the clearances were being enforced. I learned later he was passing out coin to the families, coin obtained by passing the forged notes in towns and cities.”

  “The faerie. He became a legend. Did you take his place so they would not be disappointed?”

  “Not a first. After he died, I stopped it for a while.”

  “What made you begin again?”

  “On one journey to Edinburgh, I saw firsthand what was happening as I passed through Sutherland. I understood my father then, and why he had made the choice he did. Then our county was sold and it began happening right in front of me. People would stop at our house, begging. I saw old and young going hungry, and the weak suffering.” Her voice caught. “I know the circumstances do not absolve me. It was a crime, and I knew it.”

  Furious sparks entered his eyes. “You would have hung if they caught you even two years ago.”

  “I had the means to help those people. I weighed the risk and the sin, and I discovered that I could not refuse to help. Not a penny was used for ourselves, not ever.”

  “No judge would accept your excuse, no matter how noble it was.”

  “I am not making excuses to a judge. I am giving my lover an explanation.” She exhaled her weariness. “I expect no mercy. I am telling you, so that maybe you will not hate me too much.”

  The lightning in his eyes dimmed and deepened until his gaze reflected layers she could not see.

  “There are other plates, I
assume. Smaller denominations. You would not be so stupid as to pass the large notes.”

  She nodded, feeling miserable. “I never used the big ones. The plates for five and ten pound notes, the ones I used, were not stolen because they were in the studio drawer and not the trunk.”

  “We will leave soon and retrieve them from your house. They must be destroyed at once.”

  “Of course.” She realized that was another reason why he had come. He wanted to procure those other plates. “I am prepared to face whatever is coming. I would be grateful if you will spare my sisters. This was all my doing, not theirs. They had no idea—”

  “Nonsense.” His voice snapped and his eyes blazed. “You were all in it up to your pretty necks. Was that your plan all along? If you were discovered, you would throw yourself into the breach all alone and save them? You did not forge the signatures, Bride. I have seen no indication you have that skill.”

  “You have no proof I do not. No proof they were involved. I am begging you to spare my sisters. There is no need for their lives to be destroyed. I was the eldest. This was my plan, my decision, and I alone am responsible.”

  “As usual, you have it all worked out.” He rose with exasperation and hovered over her. “This is the resolution you see? I hand you over for trial and you trade yourself for your sisters? That is the help you expect from me?”

  Her head instinctively bowed in front of his anger. “I know I have no right to expect it. I know that I have compromised you enough already.”

  “Hell, yes, you have compromised me. Thoroughly. I was left to choose between you and this damned duty that has been thrust on me. Between you and what little honor I ever claimed to possess.”

  The room shook from his fury. It seemed to rattle the vases and china figurines.

  The ensuing silence was horrible. She stared at the carpet beneath her boots, unable to summon one word on her own behalf.

  “I had to choose,” he said, his voice suddenly calm and mellow. Resigned. Almost gentle. “Only I discovered there was no real choice. The man who betrayed you by stealing those plates will be on his way to France in a few days. So will the others. We have the plates and the paper. As compromises go, it was not too dishonorable.”

  She looked up. His meaning penetrated her desolation. Tears began blurring her eyes.

  He gazed down warmly, but the edge of anger had not receded. “Walter did not name you. Be glad he was under the influence of a man with some intelligence, because on his own he would have sold you for a hot meal in prison.”

  She pulled off her kerchief, and wiped her eyes with it. “You must think me a great fool. It appears the loneliness of an aging spinster made me blind.”

  “Yes, you were a great fool with him. Just as you have been with me. I have been grateful for whatever makes you blind to a worthless man’s faults, however, so I cannot blame you about him.”

  “You are not worthless.” Her scathing throat barely let the words out. If she tried to speak louder she would sob.

  He paced away. “Unfortunately, the night’s events mean that you are stuck with my faults for good. I have asked you to marry me before. Now I must insist on it. My actions on your behalf leave me more exposed than I like. There is an honest man who turned a blind eye tonight, but he will not a second time. Should you take up forging again, my complicity will be apparent.”

  “I would never—”

  “You are as good an engraver as your father. Should your sympathies for the poor and oppressed move you again, you have the skill and the intelligence to do it.”

  “You have my word I would not.”

  “Forgive me if I demand more assurance. We will marry. I can keep an eye on you and your sisters, then. I am decided on this and will brook no arguments to the contrary.” He folded his arms over his chest. “As for the recipients of your largesse, we will find a more suitable way to aid them. I daresay I can replace the income from those forged plates with little pain to my pocket.”

  He announced her sentence in the most lordly manner. His shield of arrogance declared that the matter was settled.

  His proclamation and imperious pose calmed her at once.

  Her heart ached with gratitude and love. It was so full she could barely breathe.

  “It is an odd prison you condemn me to, my lord. After all, you will be the one in chains.”

  “I am a peer. It is impossible to chain us. You will be the one under close confinement.”

  “This is a most peculiar proposal, however. I am convinced you make it without comprehending the dire implications for you if I accept.”

  “I do not see any dire implications for me.”

  She rose and moved close to him. “They are most dire. You see, if I accept, it will not be because you demand it, nor to save myself, nor even to save my sisters.”

  He reached out and wiped a line of tears from her cheek. “Do not say it will be out of gratitude, Bride. Of all the possible reasons, that would be the worst.”

  “No, not gratitude, although I owe you my life. If I accept, it will be because I love you to the depths of my heart. All that you are, faults and all.”

  His pose cracked. His arms fell to his sides. Warmth entered his eyes, hinting at astonishment and a very masculine, fearful hope.

  “And are you inclined to accept, Bride?”

  “Most definitely. Because I do love you, very much. A life with you would make me happy even if we dwelled in poverty in a Highland glen. However, if you offer out of practicality or compromise, I cannot accept. If I loved a man within a marriage like that, I would indeed be enchained and imprisoned. The torture would be worse than any misery that occurs when one is transported.”

  His brow puckered. He looked to the fire, as if debating with himself.

  His lips parted, then closed, like something blocked the impulse to speak.

  He took a deep breath. “Would it make a difference if I admitted that more moved me than what I have stated thus far?”

  She fought to hold in the reckless hope that wanted to explode in her. “It would make all the difference in the world.”

  His jaw twitched. His eyes blinked. He took another deep breath.

  “Then, although I will insist that you marry me because of tonight if necessary, I request that you do so because I love you most dearly.”

  A surprised, bemused smile broke on his face. He looked like a man who had just jumped off a cliff and discovered to his amazement that the fall did not kill him.

  “I would be proud to be your wife, Ewan.”

  He pulled her into an embrace. “You have stolen my heart, Bride. I cannot deny that in this I am your captive. I love you and there is no other woman for me except you.”

  He kissed her firmly. Seductively. She was so happy she felt unreal, as if the moment were a dream.

  “I am glad your heart is completely mine, Lyndale, and that I am the only woman for you. Because should you think to break that chain and turn to another, there will be hell to pay.”

  “Big scenes, you warned. I am prepared.”

  “Are you? Remember, please, that I am very good with a pistol.”

  His expression fell just enough to satisfy her.

  “You are joking, of course.”

  “I will not share you. It would break my heart if you took another lover, and there is no telling what I would do then.”

  “I thought you loved me faults and all.”

  “I never said I would not expect some small improvements.”

  The dire implications she had alluded to were now clarified.

  It surprised him enough that his embrace loosened. His hands came to rest on her shoulders. His gaze penetrated hers, as if he sought to learn if she really meant it. But his vision also turned inward, and his expression very serious.

  She watched him with her heart in her throat as he weighed her demand.

  “How odd,” he muttered.

  “Odd?”

  “I am picturing a l
ife of relentless fidelity to you, and the notion does not dismay me. I cannot imagine wanting another woman, nor could I hurt you that way if I ever did. I am very sure I can be faithful.” A devilish glint entered his eyes. “Of course, I am also picturing untold rewards for my good behavior, too.”

  “I promise to make it worth your while, my love.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. Love poured through her, evoking both heady excitement and a perfect, contented peace. She wanted to weep with happiness and also shout with joy.

  Being loved by this man felt so good. Loving him felt even better.

  A dramatic little sigh escaped him.

  “What is wrong, Lyndale?”

  “Nothing really. I am deliriously happy, I promise you. Only it has all turned out just as I feared. Inheriting the title has destroyed the life I knew.”

  “Do you mind too much?”

  His low laugh carried a note of wonder. He gave her a sweet kiss.

  “The Earl of Lyndale finds he does not mind at all, my darling Bride. Ewan McLean, however, is stunned beyond words.”

  ABOUT THE

  AUTHOR

  MADELINE HUNTER’S first novel was published in June 2000. Since then she has seen ten historical romances and one novella published, and her books have been translated into five languages. She is a four-time RITA finalist and won the long historical RITA in 2003. Nine of her books have been on the USA Today bestseller list, and she has also had titles on the New York Times extended list. Madeline has a Ph.D. in art history, which she teaches at an eastern university. She currently lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and two sons. She can be contacted through her website: www.madelinehunter.com.

  Also by Madeline Hunter

  BY ARRANGEMENT

  BY POSSESSION

  BY DESIGN

  THE PROTECTOR

  LORD OF A THOUSAND NIGHTS

  STEALING HEAVEN

  THE SEDUCER

  THE SAINT

  THE CHARMER

  THE SINNER

  THE ROMANTIC

  “Madeline Hunter . . .

  embodies the best of the genre.”