Seeing Danger (A Sinclair & Raven Novel Book 2)

by Wendy Vella

  Dev had thought of nothing else since the incident with Lilliana Braithwaite. His mind was whirling with thoughts and possibilities, chief among which was that he had sorely misjudged her, and that the persona she displayed in society was not in actual fact who she really was.

  Why he thought that based on such a brief meeting, he was not entirely sure. But he could not seem to remove from his mind the image of her face when she had looked at him in that unguarded moment. He'd seen emotion, and that had shaken him.

  Why would a woman he believed to be an empty-headed fool be in that street chasing after that man, who Dev believed was abducting that child? The fact that she had given no regard to her personal well-being and launched herself at the carriage told him the matter was a dire one indeed, and rescuing that boy meant a great deal to Miss Braithwaite.

  “But, Dev, you expressly forbade Eden and me from talking to her, and as you know we always obey you.”

  “I'm sure I never mentioned the word forbid, Essie,” Dev said. He hated it when his autocratic behavior came back and bit him in the backside.

  “No, you did, I heard it,” Cam said.

  Dev sighed loudly, then dropped his calm façade and cast his siblings a look, the quelling sort that told them he was in no mood for their taunts. They of course merely smiled at him.

  He was escorting his brother and sister to the Alverston ball. Of the seven Sinclair siblings, all except Eden had dark hair and green eyes. Essie, his sister, sat across from him. She had recovered from her broken heart; well, at least she told her family she had. But one year on, and Dev believed she still harbored the scars deep inside. She looked pretty in pale blue silk with ivory trim.

  Cambridge, his younger brother, was tall with broad shoulders. He had not yet reached Dev's size, but one day he would. In buff breeches, red and black silk waistcoat, ridiculously high shirt points, and a black evening jacket, he looked as any young rogue should. His eyes were finally cleared of the demons that had until recently haunted him. It had been a hard few months for the Sinclair family. Essie had fallen in love only to have her heart crushed, and Cam had suffered the aftereffects of their father's perfidy.

  “To answer your question, Dev, yes. Eden and I do know Miss Braithwaite. Anyone you expressly forbid us to talk to is well worth our time.”

  Dev eyed his sister's cheeky smile with some relief. Perhaps that bastard had not broken her spirit as he had feared. Now he just had to work out a way to get her to tell him what he wanted to know without arousing too much curiosity.

  “Why the interest in Miss Braithwaite? I thought you disliked her intensely. You even told me not to bother asking her to dance, as she would bore me to tears in seconds, and that my title was not lofty enough to interest her. There is also the small matter of her dress sense, which I assure you is enough to repel any man.”

  “Yes.” Dev shuddered. “Those colors she wears hurt my eyes. However, I'm sure I did not say those things, Cambridge.” Dev pinched the bridge of his nose. He was a pompous twit. “Besides, you don't have a title.”

  “I fear you did, brother. Of course I ignored you and danced with her anyway,” Cam added. “And yes, she did rattle on, but once I got past the fact she wore that hideous puce dress, I did not find it taxing, as she laughed at several of my jokes. And on the matter of my title, some men don't need them. I can scintillate a lady with mere looks and words.”

  Essie crowed with laughter as Dev rolled his eyes.

  “Indeed, Cam,” Essie added. “As you say, she does have a silly way to her, but I have found that eases with familiarity. She is harmless.”

  “Eases?” Dev questioned.

  “I believe it means to give respite, brother.”

  “I know what it means, Cam,” Dev snapped.

  “Why the interest in Miss Braithwaite?” Essie asked him.

  “Keep what I tell you to yourselves,” Dev said, and then he related what he had seen out on that London street.

  “Good God,” Cam said. “And you say she was running after the carriage, and you believe she saved that boy?”

  “She was, and did. Since then I have wondered if there is a chance that I may have been harsh in my original summation of Miss Braithwaite's character. Until I gather all the facts, I cannot be certain.”

  The only sound in the carriage for several seconds was the rumble of the wheels and clip-clop of hooves.

  “Do you have any smelling salts, Ess? I'm sure Dev just said he was wrong.”

  “Very amusing.” Dev glared at his brother. “What else do you know about her?”

  “Well, Eden and I, like Miss Braithwaite and her aunt, all knit for the children who are less fortunate than ourselves.”

  Cam looked at Dev, who in turn shrugged.

  “How come we don't know about this?” Dev asked, watching his sister's chin elevate.

  “You are both busy, and this is a small thing we wish to do. We have so much and they so little.”

  “But there is more, isn't there, sister?” Dev said. He knew when his sister was holding back.

  “I am unsure of all the details, but I have a suspicion that Miss Braithwaite is more involved than she appears. One day I had the carriage stop at this little house in Temple Street to drop off some things we had for the children, and I saw her entering the building.”

  “Well that suggests nothing other than she was there dropping off things as you were,” Cam said.

  “Indeed. However, Eden was with me, and she overheard Miss Braithwaite say she would be in the parlor looking over the accounts.”

  “Now that changes things,” Cam added.

  “Who approached you about the knitting?” Dev questioned his sister.

  “We were visiting the Countess of Gripley, and she told us about this charity she knits for. Eden, Aunt, and I were interested in helping too. Miss Braithwaite was there also, and it was she who said she knew the person to contact, and sent round a note with the details the following day.”

  “Is knitting all you do, Essie?”

  “I have visited orphanages, and sometimes while I am there I will help if a child is sick.”

  “You've visited orphanages?” Dev felt ill at the prospect of his sister in such areas.

  “You cannot stop me, Dev. I won't let you, and anyway, I am in no danger. I take a footman and a maid if Eden cannot come with me.”

  The Sinclair brothers shook their heads as if to clear them.

  “Am I such an ogre that you think I would stop you doing these things then, Essie?”

  Dev was subjected to what he termed the Sinclair look, a thorough searching study from one of his siblings. He had received it more times than he could count, yet it still made him want to wriggle on the carriage seat.

  “No. I know you would never stop me doing something like this, Dev.” Essie expelled a deep breath. “I just decided not to tell you, as you are very protective of us all.”

  “All right, we will leave the matter of you frequenting some of the less desirable London streets for now, and return to Miss Braithwaite. Have you discussed the subject of the children with her again?”

  “Briefly, but she wished only to discuss scarves and hats. She is not the easiest person to strike up a conversation with, as you know.”

  “She simpers a great deal, and then there is the inane giggling.” Cam sighed.

  The first and only conversation Dev had shared with Miss Braithwaite had been at a ball two years ago. She had been dressed in a hideous ill-fitting gown of mustard, with her hair pulled back so tight it made her eyes squint. Poked in the top of it had been a mustard feather that nearly took out his eye when she nodded. Her glasses had borne a smudge on one lens, and while Dev was not a perfectionist by any standards, he had some... standards. And the woman quite literally hurt his eyes to look at.

  There was also the little matter of his body tingling when he had drawn near to her. Disturbing, because he had never felt it before, and equally as disturbing was the fact th
at he was experiencing it with Miss Braithwaite.

  He had made the effort to approach, as he had sisters and would hate for them to be snubbed in any way, but it had been the first and only time. Miss Braithwaite had spent the entire dance discussing the Grey Shrike, a bird that apparently she had spent a large amount of time studying. She had bored him silly with its migration patterns, the size of its feet, and the color of its feathers. By dance end, Dev was more than happy to return her to her aunt and flee. He pushed from his memory his reaction to her, and never approached her again.

  Now, however, knowing what he did about her, he knew the source of his reaction. Christ, he could still not believe she had his colors!

  Had it all been an act? He wasn't sure why she would put on such an act night after night. It made no sense.

  “Essie?”

  “Yes, Dev?”

  “I want you to find out whatever you can about her.”

  “Who?” She gave him a sweet smile.

  “You know who, so don’t play the innocent.”

  “What do I get?”

  A Sinclair never did something for a sibling without recompense. If they did, the requests would never cease.

  “I know!” She clapped her gloved hands together. “You will dance with the Riddly twins!”

  Dev groaned. “Have mercy, Ess. They are sweet, but you know if I do that, their mother will have me wed to one of them before dawn.”

  His sister merely smiled once more, and he knew she would not budge.

  “Very well, but I expect you to do your bit.”

  “Done!”

  “Well now, I shall enjoy this evening immensely, and watch both of you with interest.” Cam rose as the carriage stopped.

  After greeting the host and hostess and exchanging pleasantries, Dev and his siblings followed the other guests into the ballroom. Everything glittered and sparkled, including the guests, and he stood for a moment inhaling and exhaling slowly as his senses adjusted to the color.

  He felt a blinding flash of pain behind his eyes that instantly eased as he adjusted to the brightness and to the myriad of colors. Releasing another breath, he stood between his siblings, one pressed to either side of him, in case it became too much for him to bear and he landed flat on his face.

  “I am well.”

  They started walking again, nodding as people greeted them. Soon Essie left to talk with some friends. He and Cam continued to circle the room.

  Over the heads of several guests, he found Lilliana Braithwaite seated with a group of ladies along the wall. Once again she wore glasses and was dressed in a hideous shade of purple. Not the color of grapes or lavender bushes; no, this was closer to a moldy fig. Her hair was once again scraped back from her face and piled high and decorated with—

  “Christ, is that a tree in Miss Braithwaite's hair?” Cam whispered.

  “It appears so.”

  “I wonder if her aunt lets her dress in such a manner?”

  “Perhaps she has little say in the matter,” Dev said.

  “Perhaps.”

  “I saw her without her glasses,” Dev added. “Her face was also not composed with that vacant look she has perfected. She was beautiful.”

  “Really?”

  Dev nodded.

  “What happened between you has really unsettled you, hasn't it?”

  “Yes, because I thought I knew who she was, but now I'm not so sure. Seeing her out there, doing what she was, risking her safety for that boy….” Dev shook his head. “I can find no reason for it.”

  “And you like everything to have a reason. Everything in its place, no unanswered questions?”

  He did; it was how he lived his life, and he did not like the unexpected.

  “What do you know of her family?”

  “Not much.” Cam shrugged. “Father and mother have passed, and the aunt lives with Miss Braithwaite and her brother. We both know him; Nicholas. He has the same vices I once had.”

  “The same Nicholas you lost money to,” Dev said, remembering the night he had found his brother deep in debt in the bowels of some hellhole.

  “Yes, not a very pleasant type, but as I was halfway down a bottle of whiskey at the time, I can't remember a great deal.”

  “Excuse me, brother.”

  “Where are you going?” Cam asked.

  “To find out who the hell the true Miss Braithwaite is.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lilly's eyes tracked Lord Sinclair as he drew closer. Surely he was not coming to see her? Two days had passed since that night he had caught her as she lunged at Leo to save him, and she’d believed he had taken her advice and forgotten the entire incident. The look on his face suggested she was wrong.

  Her heart beat a little faster as she watched him cut a path through the other guests. He was taller than most of the other people in the room, so she could see him clearly, and although she couldn't read his expression from this distance she was fairly certain he was looking at her.

  Of course he was not seeking her out, she told herself. She had turned him away successfully, just as she had the others. And yet, what had happened between them may have piqued his interest. She prayed it hadn't, as she had no time to deal with him now.

  The problem was that since that night when he had risked himself to save her, when she would have surely fallen hard and possibly injured herself and Leo, she had not been able to stop thinking of him. His actions had been selfless, and she was unsure many would have taken the steps he had to keep her safe.

  Take her brother, for example; he would never have risked his health to save her. And yet Lord Sinclair had, which told her she may have misjudged him, and that in fact, he was a great deal nicer than she had originally believed. Not that it mattered. Lilly let no one close; she held them all at bay with silly looks, boring stories, and terrible choices in clothing. But still, it would be nice to know if he was... nice.

  She shot him another look. He certainly seemed to be heading her way. Lilly pressed a hand to her chest. Surely not? Surely he would not question her here over what had transpired the other night?

  He had piercing green eyes, which she had only really looked into once before and vowed never to do so again, because she was sure he had read her innermost secrets and seen right down to her soul. Thick black hair and dark brows and lashes complemented a face that sometimes appeared chiseled in granite, and then he would smile—rarely, but usually when his siblings were near—and the effect was breathtaking.

  His chest was wide, his shoulders broad, and Lilly had no idea who his tailor was, but she hoped he was paid handsomely for the effort of clothing the man's huge body.

  Men did not often unsettle Lilly; in fact, for the most she found them simpleminded idiots, just as they found her. However, one look into his green eyes and she had actually lost the ability to think. It had never happened to her before, that sudden intense attraction that had fleeced her brain of every thought and stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Lilly had never been attracted to another man like she was to Lord Sinclair. When he had offered his arm she had felt the heat of his body through her gloved fingers almost as if the man were a smoldering ember. Luckily she had fallen back on the act she had perfected of the empty-headed Miss Braithwaite.

  “Is that Lord Sinclair coming this way, Miss Braithwaite?” Miss Tabitha Pillsworth whispered to her.

  “Absolutely not,” Lilly said, turning away so she wouldn't gaze at him as she often did when no one paid attention. Her glasses proved a wonderful shield and, as most evenings she sat in some corner, she could observe without reserve.

  “I think he is, and he looks extremely determined. Dear Lord, that is a ferocious scowl, is it not?”

  “As you can see, Miss Pillsworth, I am at present looking at you. Therefore I cannot see what look Lord Sinclair has upon his face.”

  “I wonder how he does that?” Her companion sighed.

  “Does what?” Lilly said, then bit her tongue; she did n
ot want to know what he was doing.

  “Part the crowd without a word.”

  “He is probably wearing too much scent!”

  “Oh that was naughty, Miss Braithwaite!” Miss Pillsworth giggled and then gulped and grew quiet, and Lilly knew why. Without turning around, she just knew that he was standing behind her. She could feel him.

  “Miss Braithwaite, Miss Pillsworth, I hope you are having a pleasant evening thus far.”

  She had to look up at him now; it would be extremely rude if she did not. Yet didn't he already think her rude?

  “Lord Sinclair,” Lilly said, gripping the edges of her seat.

  “May I enquire if you have this dance free, Miss Braithwaite?”

  Lilly looked down at her dance card, thereby avoiding his eyes. Damn man, he was far too disturbing this close, and while Lilly studied her card, she knew there was not one name on there.

  “I fear not, Lord Sinclair.” Lilly fell back on what she did best. She gave him an insipid smile.

  “Now that is a shame, considering we have so much to discuss.”

  That look in his eyes told Lilly the man was not about to walk away from her until he got what he came for.

  “Are you wishing to hear more of the Grey Shrike, my lord?”

  “No, you were quite thorough in your description, thank you.” His voice held humor.

  “Perhaps another night then, Lord Sinclair.”

  Before she could retreat, he had grabbed her card and studied it. Horrified, she knew he saw it was empty.

  “Lord Hingle has been struck down with a rare form of lackwit; it is a disease that will lay him low for some time, I fear.”

  Lilly heard Miss Pillsworth giggle.

  “That is extremely rude, my lord. Lord Hingle is a friend of mine, and on his behalf I must protest.”

  In fact she loathed the man, but he did not need to know that. The slow smile forming on Lord Sinclair's face was not making her heart thud faster, Lilly told herself.