by Emma Brady
“I think a dance might be just the thing to lift my spirits at the moment.”
“Lift your spirits?”
“I’m afraid a recent conversation has left me with a negative opinion of gentlemen,” she smiled at him from one side of her mouth, “Perhaps you could redeem you species.”
“I will do my best.” he offered her his arm.
The viscount bothered her a great deal, yet she was trapped now. Michael led her onto the dance floor as the music began to quicken. Thankful it wasn’t the waltz, Sinclair focused on the steps and avoiding the hem of her gown. At moments when she would take her partner’s hand, she could feel the cold dampness of it and fought to contain a shudder.
Smiling to herself, she tried to picture him doing any hard labor. To her surprise an image of the earl appeared instead, his back sweating through the dress shirt as he labored under the sun. His body could easily take the strain, probably even enjoy it. Blinking away the image, she reminded herself that his shoulders were broad but his mind was painfully narrow. Smiling through clenched teeth, Sinclair prayed the evening would end soon.
“THEY MAKE A LOVELY pair, don’t you think?”Davonport asked Lucas who watched the two move around the floor.
“Matchmaking already?”
“I can only hope,”Davonport replied. “That girl is one who will make up her own mind.”
“She seems too independent, if you ask me.”
“Just like her mother.” The old man laughed. “Neither one of them could stand to be told what to do.”
“I doubt Viscount Andrews will find that appealing.”
“No, but he seems to find everything else appealing.”
Looking at the couple through the crowd Lucas could tell Carmichael assessed Sinclair like a piece of property to be bought. For some reason that cold appraisal of such a beautiful woman displeased him.
“If he is a smart man, he will run from her as fast as he can.” said Lucas.
Davonport laughed again, this time almost spilling red wine on his white dress shirt.
“Is she really so bad as all that?”
“Did you hear her spouting off about running her father’s business? That woman is trouble.”
“I suppose that is why you baited her like you did.”
“I did not bait her, I simply gave my opinion.”
“Oh?”
“I firmly believe that a woman does not need to be clever to make a pleasing wife.”
“I pity you then,” said Davonportwith a pat on his shoulder. “Because in my experience the witty ones are always the most fun.”
A deep frown formed on his lips as he watched the happy old man wander off. He still felt confident that his choice of bride was best and wouldn’t be swayed by anyone’s advice. Glancing back at the dancers, Lucas found Sinclair missing from the ranks. His sister was amongst her group of chattering friends across the room.
“Have you seen Miss Brown?” he asked, interrupting their conversation.
His appearance resulted in silence as all four faces turned to stare at him. Shifting uncomfortably, Lucas glared back at them.
“She walked past us a bit ago with that nice young man,” Charlotte told him. “I think they wandered outside.”
Lucas felt as if his blood were rushing through his body. Moving with a natural quickness, the earl crossed the ballroom and pushed through the ornate French doors leading to the garden. Before he started his search the sound of a woman’s voice caught his focus and forced him to press up against the wall behind a potted plant.
“I didn’t need you to escort me out for fresh air,” Sinclair said, leaning against the terrace railing, “I wouldn’t have gotten lost.”
“You are too trusting. Someone could take advantage of a girl who is all alone.”
“I’m hardly a delicate flower.”
“You are as lovely as the finest rose.”
Sinclair snorted at his attempt at flattery. Lucas saw the Viscount lean closer and Lucas could feel his muscles tightening. This stubborn girl didn’t even realize the danger she was in. As if sensing something, Sinclair turned and he could hear her surprised gasp at finding herself cornered by Michael.
“I think we should go back in now,” she said nervously. “My grandparents might begin to worry.”
“They know I would never let anything happen to you.”
Lucas swore under his breath as her eyes grew wider in fear. He could almost hear her heart beating and it infuriated him. The thought of wrapping his hands around the viscount’s neck appealed to him.
“I’m not so sure,” he heard Sinclair say.
A sneer spread across Michael’s face as he leaned in closer to her. Sinclair now had to bend over backwards against the railing in an effort to avoid him.
“Not so trusting after all, eh?”
Lucas was seconds away from throwing the weak man over the edge of the terrace when he saw Sinclair’s hand fly through the air and make contact with the viscount’s cheek. The man reached up to his reddened face and backed away. Shocked, Lucas remained motionless behind the plant.
“If I were a more ardent man a simple slap would not stop me.”
“Then I would fall back on my second plan.”
“Which is?”
In a flurry of red silk, Sinclair’s knee came up and made contact with the viscount’s privates. The man doubled over with a gasping breath and fell onto the marble floor.
“I’m not defenseless,” she stepped over him to get back to the ballroom.
Standing with his mouth open Lucas watched her glide back into the party without a second glance to the man left groaning on the ground. Apparently this girl knew how to handle men such as Andrews, and Lucas wondered where else she’d used such knowledge. Thoroughly confused, Lucas shook his head and slipped silently back into the ballroom. Anger made Sinclair’s usually graceful steps brisk.
“In a hurry?” the earl asked, his long legs catching up with her easily.
“I don’t like to dawdle,” she replied.
“Oh, I thought perhaps you were upset about something.”
“If I were upset, you would know it.”
The sweet smile she bestowed upon him was meant to get the tiny hairs on Lucas’s neck to stand on end.
“Will you handle me as you did the unfortunate viscount?”
Her back snapped as she turned and looked up at him fiercely.
“I’m not sure I know what you are referring to.”
“The terrace was a little chilly.” Lucas leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I imagine the viscount is quite cold lying on the floor.”
“You spied on me?” She pursed her lips together
Her hand released her skirts and flew to rest on her hips. Lucas stepped back, not sure what kind of reaction he might expect. He couldn’t help but smile, when she looked so adorable when she was angry. The way her hands twitched, he wondered if wanted to strike him.
“I was only doing my duty as chaperone,” he informed her, “If you had not been naïve enough to leave the safety of the ballroom, I would not have had to follow you.”
“Naïve?”
“You let a man lead you into a secluded spot where he could have easily seduced you.”
“Are you saying it’s my fault?”
His shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. He watched as her cheeks bloomed pink and her body grew more tense. That comment worked to rile her up.
“I hardly think that my allowing him to accompany me onto the terrace gives him the license to attack me,” she spat out, “Furthermore, I can hardly be called naïve since I handled the situation without your assistance.”
“Like an American, with brute force.”
“How odd.” she leaned back to look up at him, “First I’m a helpless damsel and now I’m a brute.”
“I was just pointing out the lack of decorum on your part.”
“My apologies, I worried about my virtue.” With a snort, she tossed her hair ov
er her shoulder and began to walk away. .
“It is impolite to walk away in the middle of a conversation.” he wrapped his hand around her arm to stop her.
“I’m finished talking.” She glared at him and tried to tug her arm free.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Please release my arm,” she said slowly, letting her lips draw the words out longer than needed.
“I am not finished talking about your behavior,” Lucas said, his own eyebrows growing together. “You can’t expect to find a man willing to watch you show no regard for your safety.”
“I will decide my own future,” she trembled with anger and pride. “I don’t have to listen to you.”
Before she knew what he intended to do he reached out and pulled her up against him. His hand easily wrapped around her wrists, holding them still against his chest while the other arm went around her waist. She struggled for a moment but he was stronger than her and she quickly grew still.
“You do not want to battle with me,” His voice was deep and smooth, soft enough that only she would hear it. “I am not as weak as the viscount.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It is advice.”
Even with her hands trapped and her whole body vulnerable, she rebelled. Glaring up at him she refused to admit he had won. He could feel their hearts heart beating steadily between their clothes as they both refused to be the first to break away.
“I do not have time for this.” He pushed her away, needing distance between them. The woman threatened to rattle his carefully ordered life every time they were together.
“Then by all means, feel free to leave.”
The infuriating woman had the nerve to dismiss him. She glided away without even a glance back at him.
Chapter 5
Sinclair awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and a little giddy. Memories of her stunning performance the night before still filled her mind. She had never been such a success before. The feeling of accomplishment brought a bright smile to her face.
“You look quite proud of yourself this morning,” her grandmother commented when she came down for breakfast.
Her grandfather sat buried behind a newspaper, only occasionally reaching out for his cup of coffee. Her grandmother sat to the left of him and a place for her was set at the right. She felt more at home now with her new grandparents. The warm smell of buttered muffins wafted to her nose as she took her seat.
“I think I have the right to be proud,” said Sinclair. “I managed to face London society and come away unscathed.”
“You made quite a few good introductions last night. I would not be surprised if invitations flood through the door.”
“More functions?”
The sharp look her grandmother gave her over a cup of tea made her shut her mouth and nod. Apparently she would have no choice in the matter.
“You might be the hit of the season.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. My luck is bound to run out.”
“It is not luck, it is good breeding.”
A snort escaped from the edge of the cup Sinclair sipped from. She couldn’t help making the noise, but her grandmother didn’t look amused.
“However, that habit might need some work.” said her grandmother.
“I just don’t want you to be disappointed if I don’t have a successful season,” said Sinclair, “Things never seem to work out for me in society.”
“It might have something to do with your conversational skills.”
Her grandfather’s voice was heard from behind the newspaper. Reaching up, Lillith snatched the paper away from her husband with a loud crinkle. His face flushed for a moment before he regained his composure. The look on his wife’s face made him shift uncomfortably in his chair.
“I thought Sinclair was witty and charming all night,” Lillith told her husband with a raised eyebrow.
“It is the witty part I worry about,” Davonport said. “She almost insulted Viscount Andrews. It was a wonder he continued to pay her attention.”
“He could have ignored me and I wouldn’t have cared a bit,” said Sinclair, biting viciously into a muffin. “I found that man entirely unsuitable.”
“Rubbish. He was a perfectly nice gentleman and you should try to be more demure around him.”
“Why? I’m hardly a demure woman. If that’s what he wants, he should court Charlotte.”
She didn’t give her grandmother time to respond because she was running late for her visit to her new friend. Sinclair had been hesitant to attend a tea party full of girls she barely knew. Despite Charlotte’s gentle disposition, Sinclair worried that she might not be accepted by these English ladies. Society in Chicago had been unforgiving toward her, forcing her against the wall. That same thing might happen here.
That morning she was so nervous, it took hours for her to get ready. Her grandmother helped her select a deep plum morning gown with white lace trim around the high neck. A plum ribbon was added to the end of her long braid to accent the color.
“I hardly think I’m ready for this,” she told Frederick, who chose to accompany her to the earl’s home. “I never got along with girls my own age.”
“You never gave them a chance, Miss.”
“How so?”
“You looked down on them for their fashionable natures and marriage-minded mothers.”
“Only after they mocked me for my independence.”
“You weren’t independent, you were stubborn.” Frederick looked down his eagle nose at her, “You refused to admit that their ideas had any merit.”
Snorting, Sinclair turned to look out the window of the carriage. The sun had disappeared behind dark gray clouds that rained sheets of water. The whole city was blanketed in the foul weather. People rushed along the soaked sidewalks, umbrellas covering their heads.
“I just couldn’t abide the idea of defining my life by my husband,” she replied, “I want to be known for who I am not who I marry.”
“Is that why you always told people you would never marry?”
She nodded slowly, thinking about how many arguments with her mother had started over the subject of marriage. Her eyes stung a little and when she reached up, she felt dampness through the finger of her glove.
“I never should have told my mother that.” she told him, “It caused her to worry about me.”
“I think she knew that you didn’t really mean it. Your mother knew you better than you think.”
Frederick looked at her with such earnestness that she gave him a slight smile for his efforts. She still felt guilty about all the times she had disagreed with her mother. One day she would meet the right man and marry, finally giving her mother what she always wanted.
Even with the time she spent getting ready, Sinclair arrived at the earl’s house early. The maid was polite in escorting her to small upstairs parlor that was delicately decorated in a soft peach. After the maid had left the room, Sinclair walked from the chair decorated with peach blossoms to the large bay window seat. The cushion was overstuffed peach velvet that she sank into as she sat down. Even the wallpaper had tiny peach trees painted on it.
This was the only room in the earl’s house that had a feminine touch, as far as Sinclair had seen. Peeking through doors on her way up, she had discovered a main parlor, study and dining room that were decorated in dark wood and rich leather. Even the staircase had been stained a chocolate brown, winding its way up to the second floor. Stepping into this tiny room had been like stepping from the shade into the sun, casting a warm glow in her skin.
“I am sorry to have kept you waiting, but I was not expecting anyone to arrive so soon,” Charlotte said softly as she entered the room from a side door.
“I was just admiring this lovely room. It’s quite sunny and warm.”
Charlotte smiled brightly then, adding more light to the subtle color of her face. Dressed in a pale green morning gown, with her hair pulled back into a loose knot, C
harlotte appeared to be the ideal domestic goddess. Sinclair could imagine small children bustling behind her skirts.
“This was my mother’s room when she was alive,” The young girl took a seat in one of the chairs and motioned for Sinclair to join her. “It was before I was born but Lucas tells me that she spent many hours here.”
Sinclair was about to make another comment, but the maid walked in carrying a large tray full of tea and cinnamon biscuits. Following behind her were three girls that Sinclair vaguely recalled having been at the ball.
“I do not know why you insist on wearing that annoying shade of green to please your mother,” said the tall girl with broad shoulders and a wide nose. “It makes you both look like ripe apples.”
“She thinks it brings out the color of our hair,” replied one of two matching brunettes.
“She is wrong.”
The girls seemed to stop short when they saw Sinclair sitting in one of the chairs, looking at them over her glasses. Two identical faces dropped their mouths open while the girl behind them raised her eyebrows.
“I hope you do not mind that I invited Miss Brown to our tea,” said Charlotte, seemingly unaware of the girls shocked expressions, “She is newly arrived from America and might have some interesting stories to tell.”
“I can only imagine,” the taller girl whispered out of the side of her mouth.
“May I introduce Ladies Andrea and Abigail Downing, along with Lady Maria Burrows.”
Standing, Sinclair shook each of their hands, flinching slightly at Maria’s grip. The woman towered over her by at least six inches, more if she counted the mass of brown hair pinned lopsided to her head. The long lines of her nose and mouth gave her an overbearing appearance.
“We are pleased to meet you,” chimed the twins in unison, taking seats on either side of her.
The two had long braids of thick, copper colored hair and bright freckles across their cheeks. Warm smiles seemed to swallow up their faces, with only one having dimples. Looking down, she noticed that the unflattering cut and coloring of their gowns did on fact make them look like fruit.
