Closer To Sin (34 page)

***

Liliane fought the need to lose herself in his embrace. All this could amount to would be a stolen moment. Being so close to Sin clouded her judgement, and she would find herself permanently wed to him if she couldn’t dampen the flames he ignited. ‘Sin, this attraction between the two of us. It’s powerful, and I find it difficult to resist. But it doesn’t change anything, it only confuses the issue. I’m not looking to have a wild, passionate affair with anyone. I wish to,
I need to
, pursue my own destiny, not have it thrust upon me. The only way to ensure that happens is to avoid these situations. I need you to stay away from me.’

Sin eyes shuttered as he stepped away from her but his voice was as frigid as a winter storm. ‘I don’t know how the hell you can imagine a marriage is a wild, passionate affair, Liliane.’ His lips curled into a sneer. ‘But you were right. It was a mistake for us to come out here. I don’t wish to pursue this conversation with you any further tonight. I’ll call upon you tomorrow and take you driving. Perhaps then we can have a more rational discussion. I recommend you return to the ballroom post haste.’

Liliane gaped as he turned and left her standing there. If getting an annulment from Sin was what she wanted, then why did she feel all the sunshine had just disappeared from her life? But what right did he have to be angry at her? After all, when he’d thought her to be little more than a provincial French woman, he had no qualms about agreeing to the conditions of their marriage. What difference should it make now? Just because she was the granddaughter of a Duke and his best friend’s niece, she was still the same person. Surely he recognised she was proposing the most sensible solution there was.

A flicker in the shadows caught the corner of her eye. She stilled and then dismissed the movement. Probably a bird or a cat. Rubbing her hands across her arms to keep the chill at bay, she leaned back against a tree and considered her position. What if she’d known he was an English peer and close friend of her uncle? Would it have made a difference to her?

During those weeks in France she had lived under a cloak of anonymity. It had felt so liberating. She very much doubted she would have taken the risks she had without that safeguard. Now, in the cold light of day, it was difficult not to feel as though she had been little more than a pawn in a greater game. That she had simply been a means to an end was a sad realisation, despite the inexplicable chemistry that reduced her to cinders every time he came near her.

She caught the movement from the corner of her eye again. A leaf rustled and it was silent once more. Definitely a cat. Realising she was still holding her gloves in her hand, she slowly pulled them on. Her thoughts again returned to Sin’s abrupt departure. What had made him so angry, though? She hadn’t deliberately set out to deceive him, and she’d made it plain to him that she did not intend to hold him to an unwanted marriage. This plan to feign a courtship was his, not hers. She closed her eyes, suddenly very weary from the drama of the past two days. To her left leaves rustled, and then a twig snapped.

She opened her eyes and held them wide until the dryness started to sting. But it was a futile effort to bring light into the darkened corner of the garden. Her elevated pulse swooshed through her ears and threatened to drown out all other sound while around her, dark shapes grew menacing as they merged into indistinguishable forms.

Another movement, closer this time. The sensation that she was being watched lifted the hair on the back of her neck and curled its way down her spine. She adhered herself to the tree. She was utterly alone out here, hidden from view of anyone venturing into the gardens. She clenched her fists tight, her fingernails cutting into the palms of her hand. She needed to move. On the count of three she would run for the door.

One, two,
she stepped away from the tree and willed her legs not to buckle beneath her.
Three—

‘Liliane, there you are,’ Yvette chided as she stepped around the rose trellis, closely followed by Sara and Freddy. ‘Mr Parkes said you were unwell. I’ve been looking for you.’

‘I came out to get a breath of fresh air, the stuffiness in the ballroom was making me feel faint.’ Both Yvette and Sara peered closely at her; neither had ever known her to feel faint a day in her life.

‘Well,’ said Sara, ‘so long as you’re feeling better we shall go back inside. Perhaps some refreshing lemonade will serve to revive you.’

‘Miss Desailly,’ Freddy blustered. ‘I must say, it is highly unseemly for a young lady to take it upon herself to wander off. You must curb your impropriety. Not at all the sort of traits one seeks in a wife, not at all.’

Liliane bit down on her tongue as she saw Yvette and Sara exchange a bemused glance. ‘Then it is fortuitous I am not seeking a husband, Mr Parkes. If you will excuse me, I shall go in search of that lemonade. Yvette, Sara?’ Liliane linked arms with Yvette and Sara and for the second time in a single night fled Freddy Parkes’s bombastic opinions.

‘My,’ Yvette chortled. ‘He’s very entertaining.’

‘Oh yes,’ Sara agreed. ‘I particularly admired his ambition to curb your lack of propriety.’

‘It was his boorishness that led me to commit my act of impropriety in the first instance,’ Liliane dryly pointed out. To think, only a few weeks ago she had been resigned to surrendering to Great-Aunt Woolner’s insistence that she marry him. How lowering.

Re-entering the ballroom, Liliane accepted a glass of punch from a passing footman and followed Yvette and Sara to rejoin their chaperones. As she stood half listening to the conversation she looked about to see if Sin was still there. Her eyes flitted from one group to another, seeking his dark head standing taller than those around him. Disappointment dampened her spirits. His presence had added a sense of expectation to the evening, making the candles glow brighter and the music more lively.

***

Outside an icy fog had settled on the city, bringing with it the oppressive smell of the Thames. Sinclair stood on the curb waiting for hackney to pass while he looked about for Nate’s carriage. The snicker of a horse from across the road alerted him to the shining black vehicle and its pair of matching blacks curtained behind the mist. The silver Martinbury crest glimmered demurely in the lamp light, assuring Sinclair that it was indeed the vehicle he was seeking.

Hastening his way across the road he bounded into the conveyance. ‘So, Sir Avery has requested our immediate attendance at his residence. That’s a bit out of character, don’t you think?’

Nate winced. ‘I’m not actually sure what’s going on.’ As the carriage got underway, he turned from Sinclair and peered distractedly out of the window, as though seeking answers that weren’t there. ‘It must be important; he sent three of his footman out to rake the city in search of us.’

Sinclair sank back into the luxurious leather and propped an ankle across his knee as a nameless sensation slithered through him and coiled low in his gut. He pushed the feeling aside and turned his thoughts to the one distraction he had been unable to shake. ‘Tell me, how serious was Liliane about marrying Parkes?’

Nate shook his head. ‘She wasn’t. Aunt Woolner is bosom buddies with Parkes’s grandmother so when she took it into her head that it was high time Liliane married, she decided Parkes would be the ideal choice. Liliane has been fighting the decision ever since.’

‘The idea of marriage, or Parkes in particular?’

‘Both. So the fact she married you, regardless of the circumstances, is telling. Don’t you think?’

Sinclair grunted. It would be more telling if he could convince her to stay married to him.

The carriage pulled up outside the residence of the Admiralty’s spy master, Sir Avery Litcott. Alighting from the vehicle, Sinclair stood on the footpath and regarded what was, by Ton standards, an unassuming building. A single lantern burned at the front door, the only indication that they were expected. The rest of the house sat before them, dark and foreboding.

With an immediacy suggesting their arrival was observed, the door swung inward, and an imposing gentleman purporting to be Sir Avery’s butler stood before them. ‘Good evening, your Grace, my Lord,’ he intoned.

Nate stepped forward. ‘Good evening, Yates. Sir Avery is expecting us, as I’m sure you’re aware. Kindly let him know Esselton and I have arrived.’ Yates stood aside to admit them, ushering them into the library before departing to locate Sir Avery.

There was nothing in the library to suggest that this visit, other than its apparent urgency, was anything to elicit concern. Sinclair seated himself comfortably in a deep leather armchair and let his gaze wander around the room. He had lost count of the hours he had sat in this same chair over the past few years and schemed and plotted the downfall of Napoleon.

The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves stacked with books befitting a man of Sir Avery’s station. The collection was impressive, encompassing tomes on philosophy, religion and agriculture through to classic literature—yet not a single spine was creased. Sinclair stood and wandered over to the set of shelves against the far wall. Pressing his fingers against a concealed latch, the panels separated and swung outward.

With a look over his shoulder towards Nate, Sinclair moved forward to inspect the large map of Europe pinned to the rear wall of the hidden vault. In addition to the greater assembly of ships in the Mediterranean, there were a number of new persons of interest whose movements had been flagged on the map since his last visit. Three particular names caught his eye. Reading them, he felt the jolt ricochet through his body.
Fuck.
This was worse than either he or Nate had dared consider.

Before he could say anything to Nate, the library door swung open and then just as quickly closed. ‘Good evening, gentlemen, thank you for answering my summons so promptly. Brandy for each of you?’ Not waiting for a response, Sir Avery went to the tantalus and poured each of them a drink. The crackling fire and the sound of brandy being poured into crystal was loud against the silence of the house.

Accepting his drink, Sinclair took in the dishevelled appearance of Sir Avery as the man moved to stand in front of the fire. His hastily tied cravat, unbuttoned waistcoat and mussed hair all indicated that something serious had hastened Sir Avery’s departure from his usually fastidious toilette.

Sir Avery sipped slowly from his glass, his eyes glazed as he stared at the rug at his feet. After a moment he looked over to Sinclair. ‘You have seen the updates to the map, I note.’

Sinclair nodded and moved back over to the armchair he’d recently vacated and sat back down. ‘I’ll let you update us.’

Sir Avery stroked his chin, seeming to struggle with his choice of words. ‘Chaps, we seemed to have stirred up a hornets’ nest.’ He paused, looking from Sinclair to Nate. ‘I received a report this evening advising that neither Solange Beaumont nor Henri Lyon have been seen for several weeks. Beaumont is not at her cottage and Lyon’s stationery shop is closed.’

Sinclair felt his stomach muscles clench. He didn’t like where this was going. He looked to Nate, but he seemed equally perturbed as he voiced what was on both their minds. ‘Are we to assume they’ve met the same fate as Gareth?’

Sir Avery shook his head. ‘We’re not sure your Grace, we’re still trying to put the pieces together. But it gets worse.’

A missing agent, and now two missing collaborators. Sinclair took a sip of his brandy. How much worse could it get?

‘I’m afraid De Bois has gone to ground. We’ve had a man shadowing him since your return from the Continent, except less than twenty-four hours ago he vanished completely. The rider braved heaven and hell to get the news to me as quickly as possible.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Nate cursed.

‘Do you have any suspicions as to where he’s gone?’ Sinclair queried.

‘That’s the reason for my summons this evening, my Lord. We fear he may be on his way to England.’

Sinclair stood up and paced back across to the map. Damn it to hell. Apparently it could get much worse. ‘What contingencies are in place for his arrival?’

Sir Avery nodded in acknowledgement of the question. ‘I recommend you and his Grace continue with your usual activities. I don’t believe we need to become alarmed just yet - particularly as I’ve had no intelligence to indicate that your cover was blown. Meanwhile, we have men at each of the major ports keeping an eye out for him. I’ll notify you both once he has been detained.’

‘Nonetheless,’ Nate decided, ‘I’ll see to having extra security put on around my house. You might see to doing the same, Sin.’

‘That’s a sensible course of action, your Grace.’

‘Just so. Sin and I’ll get out of your hair for now, but I might drop in tomorrow to discuss where we go from here with these latest developments.’

Sinclair bid Sir Avery good night and joined Nate at the door. One agent disappearing was unfortunate. Two disappearances were a coincidence. But three was a pattern, and he was damn sure De Bois knew exactly who was behind these events.

***

Liliane put down her book as Everett tapped on the door to the morning room.

‘Lord Esselton to see you, Miss Desailly.’

‘Thank you, Everett, please show him in.’ She stood as Sin entered the room. It instantly felt smaller as his presence filled the salon. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. He was dressed this morning in buff breeches that his valet had chosen to team with a charcoal grey tailcoat, cut high to reveal a light blue waistcoat embroidered with a subtle paisley design in matching silk thread.

His voice ran like treacle through her veins. ‘Good morning,
mon fleur
.’

She stood frozen to the spot as he lifted her hand for his kiss. He didn’t break eye contact as he grazed his lips across her knuckles. Gracious, she felt the touch all the way to her toes.

Marthe appeared in the doorway. ‘I’m ready to leave whenever you are ma’am.’

Sin quirked and eyebrow. ‘Your maid is coming with us?’

‘Yes, Esselton, Liliane’s maid will be accompanying you,’ affirmed Lady Carrick as she sailed into the room. Liliane flinched at the acid in her voice.