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Authors: Madeline Hunter

BOOK: The Sins of Lord Easterbrook
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“Hayden, I trust that you will be keeping a good eye on her sixteen years hence,” he finally said. “I don't want to have to kill too many young bloods on her behalf.”

The ladies giggled. Easterbrook returned the child to Alexia's arms, and ran one fingertip down the infant's tiny cheek. “Well done, dear sister.”

Lady Alexia's eyes misted. Leona's did too. That reminded her that she was intruding on a most private event. She took one step back, to make her escape.

It was too late. Easterbrook turned and noticed her. He beckoned her forward. Everyone's attention turned on her then. She had no choice except to go to him.

His blessing given and received, he was determined to ruin the moment by displaying the arrogance that only he would dare. “I have brought someone to meet you, Alexia. You have probably heard about her, and I knew you would be curious.”

Lady Alexia's eyes met Leona's with a woman's sympathy for his lack of tact. “Phaedra of course told me about her new friend, Easterbrook. And I have read Leona's letter in
Minerva's Banquet.
It was kind of you to realize that I would be quickly bored in this bed, and to guess that meeting the fascinating Miss Montgomery would be a welcomed diversion.”

And with that thoughtful, smooth speech, Lady Alexia swept away the scandalous implications in the coincidence that an early morning search for the marquess had resulted in Leona's presence at this house.

Lord Hayden drew his brother out of the room. Leona sat in a chair beside Lady Alexia's bed. Those violet eyes gave the closing door one long, thoughtful look, then they settled on Leona, most curiously.

Hayden brought Christian to the library, bypassing the study where Elliot sat with Kyle Bradwell, the husband of Alexia's cousin Rose.

“She is very lovely, isn't she?” Christian asked.

“Very. Unusually so. Her eyes in particular,” Hayden agreed.

“I have heard they often change colors in the early years. Do you think they will become violet like Alexia's?”

Hayden appeared perplexed, then smiled. “Ah. You are speaking of my daughter. I thought that you were asking my opinion of Miss Montgomery.”

“I already know that Miss Montgomery is lovely. I have less experience with babies not one day old.”

Although Hayden's enveloping joy did not actually dim, another emotion sounded. Caution. Hesitation.

“I was happy to meet Miss Montgomery, Christian. Somewhat reassured.”

“An odd word. Reassured. I do not know whether to be charmed or insulted by your concern.”

“Neither, I'd advise. The public attentions you have been paying her are all the talk. It has never happened before in my memory. I was reassured to see she is not another Mrs. Napier, that is all.”

“Afraid you might end up with a practiced courtesan as a sister-in-law, were you?”

“Something like that. As it is.…”

Christian waited for the rest. His brother wanted to say something, but his better judgment was advising silence.

“Is your new child making you feel fatherly toward Leona too, Hayden? Perhaps all that talk troubles you, and you are concerned that I am playing loose with her reputation?”

“If that is the first thing you assume, maybe you only express your own concerns. As it is, I have cause to believe Miss Montgomery is well equipped to take care of herself, however she sees fit to do so.”

So much for better judgment. Christian waited for the explanation that was certain to come.

It took some time. Hayden called for coffee. He described the madness of the last few days. He praised Alexia's cousin Rose for her untiring devotion and help. He settled them both in chairs to drink the coffee and finally, when almost an hour had passed, he got down to it.

“I have been making some inquiries on Miss Montgomery's behalf, as you requested.”

“That was good of you, considering your wife's condition.”

“Alexia ordered me from the house a few times during the last week. I was becoming a nuisance. So this gave me something to do.” He set down his cup. “Miss Montgomery is known, it turns out. I have the names of some traders who will be happy to make her acquaintance. However.…”

Christian just waited some more.

“Do you really know what you have in her, Christian? Seven years is a long time in a person's life.”

It was an interesting question. Christian knew that he still had the Leona of the past, but she was not exactly the same person. Those seven years had matured her in many ways, and deepened her depths and brightened her heights. Her essence, however, had been immediately familiar to him.

“What is it you think I should know, Hayden?”

“I said she was known. I should explain further. She took up the reins of that trading house personally, herself, and found ways to keep it alive. She sailed the seas with her captains, and took risks some men would fear, both in the deals she struck and with her own safety. She is famous among shippers who work the East. Even infamous to some.”

“You are not telling me anything that I do not know, or have not surmised. I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, and hers. Now, who are these traders who might benefit her? The ones eager to meet her for
her purposes, and not just to satisfy their curiosity about the woman trader who sailed the Eastern seas.”

Hayden appeared relieved he had not borne any true revelations. And he had not. Christian admitted, however, that in his determined pursuit of Leona, he had not given much weight to those seven years, and to how her experiences might affect her own view of destiny. Hayden's instincts about that were not to be discounted entirely.

Hayden gave him two names. “I think that you should contact St. John first,” he said. “One of his captains has already had some dealings with Miss Montgomery, and he will be the most approachable and the most useful. However, he asked to speak with you first, alone.”

“Why?”

“Perhaps he wants to be certain that a marquess does not get annoyed if he forges the alliances that Miss Montgomery seeks.”

“Or perhaps he wants to make sure that a marquess feels in his debt for doing so.”

“In either case, it is for you to decide how the accounting will work.”

In other words, St. John, and probably any others, would appease a marquess any way a marquess chose to be appeased. In return, the lord in question would owe those men, with payment due in the currency of favors that influenced government and finance.

One word from him and Leona would have her alliance with St. John, and others too.

A different word and she would not have those alliances. Not soon and perhaps not ever.

Hayden suggested that they join Elliot and Kyle. As he walked to the study, Christian weighed the implications of this conversation with Hayden. It appeared that his patronage of Leona's mission could bear fruit quickly.

Unfortunately, if it did, Leona might conclude she had no reason to remain in England.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

L
eona fell asleep in the carriage while Easterbrook brought her home. She only woke as they neared Bury Street.

She opened her eyes to find him in the depths of meditation. Eyes closed unmoving, he faced her like a statue of peace. She tried very hard to make no sound that might disturb him, but soon his lids rose anyway.

“You appeared to be sleeping deeply,” he said. “I trusted you would not mind.”

“You probably are more refreshed than I am.” She had not been sleeping deeply. Her mind had raced the entire time, summoning images from last night, from the past, from her home in Macao. Her brother had invaded the vivid dream, his face so clear and real that she thought she was with him in fact.

“Lady Alexia was very kind,” she said. “Despite her exhaustion, she rallied to entertain me when you left me with her. She spoke very well of you. I think that you have a true sister's affection from her.”

Leona had also had a private chat with Lady Phaedra,
a very useful one regarding the writer of her father's death notice, but she would not tell Christian about that. It would only revive their row from yesterday.

“Alexia has my admiration and affection in turn. There are few truly good people in the world, but I knew she was one of them the first time I met her.”

She almost teased him about his presumptuous claims to know the hearts of others, but this was one opinion of which she would never want to disabuse him. She too had sensed an essential goodness in Lady Alexia, and a forthright honesty in her character.

“Her cousin Rose is a beautiful woman, and not at all proud,” she said. “Was that man in the study with your brother her husband?”

“It was. Roselyn Longworth and Kyle Bradwell married at the beginning of this year. A good deal of scandal surrounds her. You will probably hear of it. I am told the gossip is fading, but in truth it will never die.”

“Actually, the only gossip that I have heard about your family, other than that regarding you, concerned your brother Hayden and Alexia.”

“He did the right thing in marrying her, but it is a love match now. I am surprised that there is still gossip. Only dim-witted people would find such a tiny scandal interesting.”

He dismissed it much as he had when he spoke of Elliot and Phaedra. Scandals of this nature did not impress him at all. Perhaps he believed that they could never truly affect his family. He was Easterbrook, after all.

He accompanied her to her door when they arrived at her house. As was his growing habit, he entered with
her as if he had a right to. She was beyond objecting today. It was hard to demand strict etiquette from a man who had seen and touched parts of one's body that one never saw and rarely touched oneself.

He would be impossible now. He had presumed much before, and it would be worse. Her disadvantage had increased enormously. Even if she tried to limit his rights, he would most likely ignore her efforts.

Perhaps he also did not want to end the idyll that had begun last night. Maybe he stayed close because he also suspected that the best of that intimacy would burn away with the sun if they did not stand shoulder to shoulder to protect the memory of it from too much illumination.

“I want to talk to you, Leona. About last night. And future nights,” he said as they went up to the library together.

“I hope that you are not going to ask me to move to your house again. If so, please do not.”

“I will accept your decision on that. However, I would like to ensure that I am welcome in this house instead.”

She stopped at the top of the stairs. “You already enter this house as if you own it. As for being welcomed, and for what happens once you are here—I need to think about that, don't I? Despite the scandal in Macao, I am actually new to being a fallen woman.”

She meant it as a joke. He did not hear it with humor. “I do not see it that way. I do not believe you do either.”

“How I saw it had little to do with your pursuit. You knew your power and you used it and I put up very little
resistance. I am not in a mood of regret, Christian. Far from it. That is not the same as agreeing that there should be more such nights, or that I will be your mistress.” She touched his mouth, which had assumed a very hard line. “That is what you were about to propose, isn't it?”

“You are determined to make me miserable.”

She almost laughed at his pique, it charmed her so. “If you wanted someone who only considered your pleasure, you knew where to find her I am sure. I must live my life as I see is best for me, not you. I know that in your heart you understand that, even if you scowl.”

The scowl softened enough to indicate he did understand. Perhaps too well. “So you want to weigh matters. Make lists of income and costs in all their forms before deciding if I am welcomed in your bed again.”

“Well, I am a trader's daughter, Christian. Our sort likes to keep tidy books.” She gave him a playful kiss and opened the library doors.

As soon as she entered the chamber she halted in her tracks. She peered around, looking for she knew not what. Something was amiss.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I do not know. It is odd, but—” Her gaze swept the bookcases, then settled on the desk. She strode over and looked at its surface. Everything was just as it should be. The inkwell sat in its nook, with the wax lined up beside it. The lamp.…

In her mind she saw this desk before she left the house yesterday. She remembered writing a note, then pondering her copy of the death notice. She had moved the lamp forward to hold the paper's edge. When Tong
Wei told her of Lady Lynsworth's call, she had opened the drawer and shoved in her papers, then—

An eerie sensation crawled up her spine. She pulled the drawer open. “Someone has been here. I am almost certain. In this room, and at this desk.”

Easterbrook strode away. She heard him calling for Isabella.

Isabella arrived, trembling from the lord's tone of anger. She clutched some cloth in one hand and a needle in the other. She had obeyed the summons so quickly that she had not even put aside the mending that occupied her.

“Has anyone been here?” Easterbrook demanded.

She shook her head.

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