by Wendy Vella
“Dev!”
Lilly hated how she felt when Lord Sinclair released her hand and reached for one of the twins as she launched herself at him. She didn't want to like this man or need him, but it seemed she was in grave danger of both. When he had held her, suddenly the fear had receded, as if in some way he had taken it from her, which of course was ridiculous. She watched him hug the little girl tight as she sobbed into his shoulder.
“W-Warwick said I was a ninny for shrieking.”
“Lilly and I never heard you shriek, Somer, and he has called you worse names than that, sweetheart. So what else is upsetting you?”
He was so comfortable in his role of guardian with the girl, his gestures natural as he listened to her tale of woe.
“Yes, but he embarrassed me in front of T-Toby.”
“Ah, it all becomes clearer now,” he said, kissing one of his sister's damp cheeks before lowering her to her feet.
“You tell Warwick that if he says anything further you will tell Toby about his Dougie. Don't say it out loud, Somer, but make sure he knows you will if necessary, and that will be deterrent enough.”
“Why can't I say it out loud, Dev? He deserves it.”
Lilly loved watching children. They were just what they appeared. No front, back, or side for that matter. If they were sad, it showed. Of course, the children she knew were different from these Sinclairs. They had learned early not to show emotion, because no one cared.
She watched the smile the little girl gave her big brother before she ran off, happy once again. If only life were that simple, Lilly thought. She hoped the Sinclairs understood how lucky they were to have each other, but most especially to have the man who loved them all so much.
“That seems a very weighty sigh, Miss Braithwaite. Care to share your troubles?”
“No, I have no need to share anything with you.”
His chuckle made her shiver, thankful for the dark so he could not see the longing she felt was written all over her face.
“May I enquire as to the origins of the Dougie?”
“A small dog made of sticks that Eden made for him when he was three. He has never been parted from it and it sits beside his bed every night. We had Eden make four of them in case he lost the original.”
“And did he?”
“No, surprisingly he never lost it, and takes better care of it than his teeth.”
Lilly was surprised into a giggle.
“You should do that more. Your dimples are lovely.”
“Not many people go about laughing, Lord Sinclair.”
“No, but many do laugh regularly. I don't believe I have ever seen you do so.”
She felt his eyes on her face, but thankfully knew he could not read her expression.
“As we have only been acquainted for a short time, I don't believe you can accurately make such a statement.”
“I have watched you, even if we have not conversed.”
The breath suddenly lodged in her chest at his words; luckily she did not have to reply, as Toby spoke.
“Next is the murder house, Lilly.”
She could tell he was still wary of the Sinclair family, but for all that the boy was enjoying himself. His face had relaxed and he was happy to walk beside Warwick.
“Will the fun never stop,” she whispered.
“Sarcasm, Lilly. I am seeing many sides of you in your moment of weakness.”
“I am not now, nor am I ever, weak,” she muttered, clutching his hand once more, because quite frankly the prospect of walking into a dark room called the murder house without being anchored to someone was terrifying. It could have been any hand, she reassured herself. “I am merely unsettled. It shall pass.”
“It is supposed to be the most horrible and gruesome room in all of London, filled with obscene objects, like blood, body parts—”
“You will not scare me with talk of blood and other revolting things, my lord. Unlike you, my weakness is only the dark,” Lilly said, wishing she could leave his side and stalk after the children, yet knowing she would then be alone.
“I knew at the time it was folly to tell you about my little issue with blood. However I was fairly certain given your terrified state you would forget. A major miscalculation on my part, I fear.”
“A momentary weakness that I shall gladly use against you at the first opportunity, my lord.”
“Devon, for pity’s sake, Lilly. You have wept piteously upon my chest, groped my face, and yet I am still Lord Sinclair.”
“I most certainly did not grope your face!” Lilly said indignantly and followed it up with a shriek as they entered a room cloaked in darkness.
“Something touched my ankle.”
“Oh, that it had been me,” he sighed.
“Scoundrel!”
“You wound me.”
She heard the deep rumble in his chest.
“Men are extremely unpleasant creatures,” Lilly said softly, not wanting to alert whoever was lurking in the shadows to their presence.
“Not all men,” he whispered in her ear, his breath against her skin making her shudder.
Her eyes began to adjust, as this room had more light, and Lilly felt some of her fear ease. The murder house had severed heads and limbs, all, Lilly gleefully noted, slathered in blood. There were murder scenes reenacted, and the sound of moans and screams wailed around the walls.
“There is certainly a great deal of blood,” she said, hoping to unsettle the man at her side.
“I believe I mentioned that it is only my siblings' blood that upsets me, madam. Therefore, you may remove that smirk from your pale face.”
“I have no idea what you are speaking of, sir,” Lilly lifted her chin.
“Each of these is of a real murder, Lilly!” Toby yelled from his position in front of a gruesome murder scene.
“Will they have nightmares from this, my lord?” Lilly questioned, feeling guilty that such young children were being subjected to so much blood and gore.
“I don't think mine will. And if my guess is accurate, Toby has seen more horror than both you and I, therefore I think they will slumber well tonight.”
She looked at Toby as he gave Warwick a small smile.
“He is the one you told Essie about that day at Temple Street, isn't he?”
“Yes. When Mr. Davey found him, he was bruised and beaten, and lying on the doorstep.”
“Was he the first of the children to go there?”
“No, there had been three before him. However Toby was different from the start. Mr. and Mrs. Davey love him as their own, and he lets them because they do not smother him. Yet he is still untrusting and will disappear for a few days when he needs time alone, which of course worries us, but we try not to let that show. “
“And you have a special bond with him?”
Lilly didn't answer immediately, choosing her words carefully.
“There is something about him that tugs at my heart. He is so strong and stoic, and yet sometimes I see the fear in him.”
She felt Devon's hand squeeze her fingers gently before once again releasing them. Lilly shouldn't feel warm all over from such a small gesture, but she did.
“Miss Braithwaite, will you come and see this? Somer says it is a severed finger, but I believe it is a severed toe.”
Lilly looked at the twin before her then at the man beside her. “Surely your brother would be a better judge?”
“He will try and agree with both of us,” the little girl said dismissively. “He likes to be fair.” She rolled her eyes. “We have asked Cam, Essie, and Toby, and now we need to ask you.”
“You're a heartless little wretch, Dorset Sinclair, to dismiss your big brother so ruthlessly.”
Dorset merely poked her tongue out at Dev, and then took Lilly's arm and towed her to inspect the aforementioned appendage.
After it was decided that it was indeed a toe by Lilly, which pleased Dorset hugely, she was then taken in hand by both twins and escorted t
he rest of the way around the exhibits.
Lilly told herself she was relieved to have left Devon Sinclair's side, yet the truth was she felt bereft. And that alone was enough motivation to keep her distance.
Dev stayed a few feet behind Lilly as the twins dragged her from room to room. She was good with them, teasing them and tweaking a curl here and stroking a cheek there, much better than she was with adults. She seemed to lose her inhibitions around children.
“So do you mind telling me why, when you went to the port to look at your latest acquisition, you picked up a woman instead, and not just any woman, but your Miss Braithwaite?”
“She is not my anything, and stop meddling, Cambridge, or I'll break your nose again.”
“Funnily enough, Dev, when you did it last time—after it had healed—my sense of smell was even stronger. In fact, I had this strange smoke smell minutes before our kitchen in Oak’s Knoll caught fire, remember? I knew it was about to happen even though I was some distance away.”
Dev had realized very early on in his life that you could never insult Cam without him turning it around to the point where you forgot the original insult in favor of the discussion you were being sucked into. So it was important to stay focused.
“Just leave it be, Cam,” Dev warned, watching the sway of Lilly's skirts as she swung Somer's hand in her own.
He had seen another side to her today. Her fear of the dark was real, like his of blood. Then there was her humor. He'd believed her silly and brainless, but in fact she wasn't.
“Oh, surely I'm allowed a little more fun? After all, you harassed me for days when I fell in love with Miss Millhouse. I remember waking up one morning to you singing a love song at the end of my bed, and then there was the little matter of that red velvet heart. Eden made it, and Essie initialed it.”
“I take responsibility for the song, as I was the one singing it,” Dev said. “However, the heart was your sisters’ idea.”
“Which you happened to suggest,” Cam scoffed.
“Can Lilly and Toby come and eat an ice with us, Dev?” Somer said, coming to his side.
“Of course they can. Go and ask them nicely.”
“Just so you know, Dev, we like her,” Cam said, punching his brother in the arm before he started herding the children toward the exit.
So do I, Dev thought, feeling his chest tighten as she laughed at something Essie said.
Dev had known that when the time came that he found his mate, he would fall for her quickly. She would consume him, and he would want everything she gave and more. Lilly, he now knew, was that person. He thought it may take her a while longer to come to that conclusion, however.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Can I not convince you to choose the lemon with a cream sarcenet overdress, Miss Braithwaite?”
“No thank you, Madam Dupont. I like the mustard, it suits me perfectly, and please add a trim of gray around the neck and cuffs. Plus I think a large collar of the same trim would be lovely, don't you?”
The seamstress made a choking sound but nodded.
Lilly wanted something really ugly to deter Lord Danderfield. She had tried to put the man off, but since that day she had gone to Dr. Engle’s House of Ghoulish Horrors with the Sinclair family and Toby, he had been most persistent. Yesterday he had called to take tea, and asked that she go driving with him today. Lilly had quickly refused, stating she already had an engagement.
He was a loathsome pig, and she would never marry him, even if she was forced to flee. She would rather live in Temple Street than be subjected to that man's advances.
His questions were personal and invasive. He wanted to know her every movement, and had told her that when they were wed, he would be curtailing all activities except those he approved of.
“Can I not interest you in something in a lighter fabric, Miss Braithwaite? Perhaps a—”
“I have quite made up my mind, Madam Dupont. Please have the dress made and delivered to my brother's house.”
Leaving the shop, she purchased a pair of gray gloves and a silly bonnet that she would have Bee add several unflattering things to.
She had thought a great deal about Lord Sinclair—Devon, as he insisted she call him. The man had infiltrated her head and made her smile at random moments. Lilly did not smile randomly, well not genuinely she didn't. She giggled foolishly in public, and in private she had not had much call to smile.
The most terrifying part of Dr. Engle’s House of Ghoulish Horrors, upon reflection, was realizing just how much she had enjoyed it, had enjoyed being with the Sinclair family and allowing Devon Sinclair to hold her hand and lead her through those horrid dark rooms.
Toby had told her in his no-nonsense manner that they were all right, those Sinclairs. High praise indeed from a boy who rarely had a kind word to say to anyone.
Seeing the Sinclairs together as a family, watching them laugh and tease each other, hug and touch each other, had been something special to be part of, and Lilly was not so cynical that the experience had not moved her in many ways. If she were honest with herself, she'd been jealous of the bond they so obviously shared. She had lost count of how many times Devon Sinclair had touched a sibling with a stroke of his big hand on their heads or the brush of his lips on a cheek, and every gesture had made Lilly's toes tingle because she had wanted to be the recipient.
She was not herself, Lilly realized. So much was unsettling her. First there was this business with Lord Sinclair, and how she appeared to be letting him in to aspects of her life that she let no one in to. Actually, he had forced his way in, but still, had she fought harder, that would not have happened, surely. There was also the concern about Nicholas's insistence she marry Lord Danderfield, and of course, the issue of the missing children.
“Pardon me, Miss Braithwaite, but an urgent message has arrived for you.”
A young boy handed her a note. Opening her reticule, she handed him some coins before looking at the missive. The handwriting on the front was not familiar. The content made her heart sink.
Come quick to Lady Jane Street, a boy is hurt. Toby's name was printed at the bottom. Lilly looked at the paper then folded it carefully, and slipped it into her reticule. Something was not right, because firstly, Toby could not write, and secondly, how did he know where to find her, when only Bee was aware of her destination?
She couldn't afford to ignore the message if a child was in danger, yet what if it were dangerous for her, or a trap of some sort? She would have Bee and Wilson with her, so she should be quite safe Lilly reasoned.
She hurried to her carriage with Bee on her heels.
“Jane Street, Wilson,” Lilly said before she climbed inside.
“Is it a child, miss?”
“Yes, Bee. It says we are to go to Jane Street, as there is a child in trouble, and it was signed by Toby.”
“Toby can't write though, miss.”
“I know, but why would anyone else send me a note if there were not a very real danger?” Lilly said. “No, I must take a look. I will think of little else otherwise.”
The day was a gray one, but as yet no rain had fallen. When the carriage halted, Lilly stepped down into Jane Street.
“We will not be long, Barnabos,” Lilly told the driver as Wilson joined her and Bee on the street.
“'Tis not the best street in London, Miss Braithwaite,” Wilson said as they began walking down it.
“No indeed,” Lilly agreed. Looking around, she saw rickety old buildings that she was sure housed small children who wanted shelter for the night. London was full of such places. “I don't believe I've been here before, Wilson.”
“It's not a place I'm overly familiar with, Miss Braithwaite. Perhaps you should wait in the carriage with Bee, and I'll find the child.”
As the last word left her footman's mouth, Lilly felt icy fear grip her body. “We need to leave here; something is not right.”
They came from the buildings. Five men; Lilly and her servants had
no chance of escape. She struggled as a man grabbed her, and watched in horror as Bee was thrown to the ground and Wilson knocked over the head with a piece of wood, his body crumpling at her feet. Desperate, she fought, but they were too strong. She was lifted, her hands and feet bound, and then a sack was lowered over her head and she was suddenly in her worst nightmare. Alone in the dark.
Dev had walked around the ballroom several times and had still not found Lilly. Bracing himself against a wall, he resorted to his other vision to find her. Color was suddenly all around him, but he forced himself to focus, breathing in and out slowly. He could do this, subject himself to this, for her. Where the hell was she?
He'd been uneasy all day, as if he were coming down with something, or something monumental were about to happen to him or his family. But as the minutes ticked away, Dev had a feeling it was to do with Lilly.
She was nowhere in sight and after an hour of checking rooms, the feelings began to intensify. She hadn't arrived at all, because he had asked the servant who announced the guests, and yet he knew she’d been planning to attend, because she had told Essex of her intentions.
“That scowl is scaring the ladies. What has your hackles up this evening, brother?”
Changing his vision, he looked at Cam.
“Have you seen Lilly?”
“No.”
“Something's not right.”
“Why do you say that?” Cam straightened from his habitual slouch, eyes intent as he looked at Dev. The Sinclairs understood each other, and their heightened senses fired if one of them sensed danger.
“I don't know, something just feels off,” Dev said, shrugging as if he could shake the unease from his body. “I have looked everywhere and in both visions, and still I cannot see her.
“You used your other sight here, with all this color? Are you all right? Why the hell did you not find me first?”
“I am fine, don't fuss. I have the same feeling I had when Eden was kidnapped, Cam.”
“And you are sure it relates to Lilly?”
