Love's Peril (Lord Trent Series) (3 page)

“There are worse things than being attached to a rich man like me.”

“Yes, there are: having a reckless brother, losing your home because of him, being tossed out with just the clothes on your back.”

“Precisely,”John grimly agreed. “Once she’s faced with catastrophe, I might be exactly what she needs.”

Raven snorted out a laugh. “I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.”

John laughed, too. It was amusing to think of a relationship with Miss Teasdale, but she wasn’t worth the bother. And from his brief meeting with her, he could tell she was quite fond of Bramble Bay. After she learned how he’d ruined Hedley, she wouldn’t be kindly inclined to any continuing acquaintance.

“Let’s go,”John said. “We’re due to arrive tomorrow. I want to double check all the details to make sure we haven’t forgotten anything.”

“We haven’t.”

“I want to be
sure
,”John firmly stated. “I’ve been preparing for this moment all my life. I’ll leave nothing to chance.”

They turned their horses and rode away.

CHAPTER TWO

“Can you see anything?”

“No, and be silent. I won’t give Mildred the satisfaction of knowing we care enough to spy.”

Sarah was hovered on the second floor landing with her friend, Caroline Patterson.

Caroline’s parents had died when she was a girl, and Sarah’s father had been her guardian. They were the same age—twenty-five—and had been raised together like sisters.

They were peeking down into the foyer, observing the approach of Mildred’s mysterious guests. Sarah had watched, agog, as their carriage meandered up the drive. It was large and ornate, with a fancy crest painted on the door. Four liveried footmen were perched on the rails, and it was pulled by six white horses that had clopped in a perfect rhythm.

A horde of servants had rushed outside to unload their massive pile of luggage. How long did they intend to stay?

For the past two weeks, the entire house had been abuzz with preparations for the auspicious visit. Hedley had traveled from town to be present. They were his acquaintances, and he and his mother were huddled below, dressed in their finest clothes and obviously anxious to impress.

Sarah hadn’t asked who the people were or why they were so important. Nor had she and Caroline been invited to greet them. If Mildred disliked Sarah, she disliked Caroline even more. Sarah, at least, had been Bernard’s daughter and had some claim to food and shelter at Bramble Bay.

In Mildred’s eyes, Caroline was an interloper who couldn’t so much as boast a blood relationship. She was viewed as a trespasser, and thus, undeserving of sustenance or sanctuary.

Caroline’s antipathy toward Mildred was mutual. After Bernard had passed away, Mildred had convinced Caroline to marry Mildred’s distant cousin who lived in London. He was a successful barrister with a suitable home and good income, but he was also a violent, drunken fiend.

Caroline had tolerated his ill-treatment for two years, then she’d run away. She was hiding at Bramble Bay, afraid for her life, and terrified that her husband would find her. He’d already come searching twice, and Mildred kept threatening to tell him that Caroline was on the premises.

So far, Sarah had persuaded Mildred to be merciful, but she doubted Mildred would extend charity to Caroline for much longer. If Mildred betrayed Caroline to her brute of a spouse, Sarah wasn’t sure what she’d do.

For the moment, she was enjoying Caroline’s company. They might have been fourteen again, laughing at bitter Mildred and spoiled Hedley. Neither she nor Caroline was interested in Mildred’s guests, except to the extent that they hoped the visit would be brief and uneventful.

Mildred had been very stressed, which made her short-tempered and rude, so the staff was in a frenzied state, snapping and bickering and being generally unpleasant.

There was a flurry of motion out on the stoop. The butler straightened and announced, “Mrs. Teasdale, Master Hedley, may I introduce Mr. Raven Hook.”

A man entered. He was a handsome, imposing giant. His name, Raven, fit him. His hair was black, his clothes were black, his boots were black. He had no expression on his face, but he looked positively lethal. He had a dagger in a sheath on one side of his waist and a sword on the other that dropped to the floor.

“Who is he?”Caroline whispered, her brows rising with astonishment.

“I have no idea.”

“Why would Hedley even know someone like that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

A woman entered next. She was voluptuous and statuesque, like an Amazon warrior goddess, with violet-colored eyes and luxurious blond hair that curled to her bottom. She wore a bright red gown and tons of gold jewelry so she appeared wealthy and foreign and exotic.

She was so striking that it was difficult to glance away. She noticed Hedley staring, and she smirked, aware of her splendor, of her affect on males.

“And who is that?”Caroline whispered again.

“Aphrodite?”Sarah muttered in reply.

“If Hedley isn’t careful,”Caroline snickered, “he’ll drool on himself.”

The butler intoned, “Miss Annalise Dubois.”

Miss Dubois preened, then walked over to stand by Mr. Hook.

The butler continued. “Finally, may I present Mr. John Sinclair.”

To Sarah’s stunned surprise, Mr. Sinclair—her dashing savior and champion from the prior afternoon—sauntered into the foyer. His golden-blond hair was still pulled into a ponytail, but it was the only thing about him that was the same.

He was dressed in a lavender coat that had silver embroidery on the hem. The stitching was so exquisite that the thread was probably actual, spun silver. His boots were polished black, with huge silver buckles, and his fingers were weighted down with silver rings.

His shirt was blinding white, his cravat designed from what had to be miles of Belgian lace. There was lace at his cuffs too, dangling across his wrists and hands. Tiny stones sparkled from his coat, cravat, and rings, and she suspected he was covered in diamonds.

He was so spectacularly attired, so rich and elegant and…
beautiful,
that if someone pronounced him to be royalty, she would have believed it.

“Oh, my lord,”Caroline murmured, “would you look at him? Have you ever seen the likes?”

“No,”Sarah murmured in return.

“Who could he be? Why has he come?”

“I wouldn’t dare speculate.”

At his arrival, Mildred and Hedley were all aflutter. Hedley rushed over, dragging Mildred with him.

“Mother, this is Mr. Sinclair.”

Mildred curtsied. “Hello, Mr. Sinclair. Welcome to our humble home.”

Mr. Sinclair didn’t respond, but glared down his imperious nose, giving the distinct impression that he possessed an extreme dislike for both of them.

Hedley reached out as if to shake Mr. Sinclair’s hand, and Sinclair simply frowned until Hedley, unnerved and embarrassed, stepped back and dropped his arm to his side.

“It’s been a long journey,”Miss Dubois said, her voice sultry and alluring, her accent very French. “Are our rooms ready?”

“Yes…ah…of course,”Mildred stammered, intimidated by the tall, daunting woman. “Would you first join us for some refreshments?”

Mildred gestured to the front parlor. The salon had been prepared for them, a cheery fire burning in the grate even though it was a warm summer day. Trays of food and decanters of wine had been arranged on the tables. The servants had gone to an enormous amount of trouble, but apparently, it had been a wasted effort.

Miss Dubois peeked at Mr. Sinclair, read something in his eyes, then shook her head. “We’re tired from our journey.”

“I…understand,”Mildred stammered again. “How about supper? Will you dine with us?”

“Perhaps.”

Mildred bristled with irritation, but quickly tamped it down. She clapped her hands, and two footmen dashed over to escort the trio up the stairs.

Miss Dubois slid a proprietary arm around Mr. Sinclair’s waist and asked, “Have you honored my request?”

“As to what?”Mildred said.

“I am Monsieur Sinclair’s very special friend”—Miss Dubois purred the word
special
—“and we can’t bear to be parted for a single second. We must have adjoining rooms.”

“Yes, I’ve placed you together,”Mildred said.

In adjoining rooms? For a couple that wasn’t married? What could Mildred be thinking? Was she ill? Was she mad?

She was a stickler for the proprieties. Her diatribes about rituals and reputations were legendary, and Sarah and Caroline had spent years, giggling over Mildred’s persnickety etiquette.

Yet she would allow Mr. Sinclair and Miss Dubois to share a bedchamber? It was disgraceful. It was shocking. It was incredible.

Sarah gasped. She didn’t mean to; it just slipped out.

No one noticed, except for Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Hook. They seemed vigilantly focused and on alert for hazards. They glanced up, and Mr. Sinclair saw her before she could slither out of sight.

He winked—the ass—then casually looked away, his expression bored and aloof. A footman motioned for him to start up the stairs, and he and Miss Dubois promenaded over and began to climb.

They were such an arresting pair: attractive, stunning, magnificently attired. And they were proceeding directly toward the spot where Sarah and Caroline were lurking.

“Let’s get out of here,”she urged Caroline, and Caroline didn’t have to be told twice.

They scurried away to the servants’ stairs, Sarah hobbling on her sore ankle. By the time they were outside on the verandah, Sarah’s temper was flaring.

Who was John Sinclair? What game was he playing?

“What’s wrong, Sarah?”Caroline inquired. “You’re in a state.”

“Remember yesterday, when I fell out on the road.”

“Yes. A handsome stranger came along, like a prince out of a fairytale, and carried you home. You lucky dog.”

“It was him!”

“Who?”

“Mr. Sinclair. My knight in shining armor was Mr. Sinclair.”

“I thought you figured him to be a traveling laborer.”

“I didn’t know what he was. He spoke well and was dressed in fine clothes, but they were ordinary, informal clothes. Not…a suit fit for a king.”

“You said he was scouting properties in the area, that he was hoping to purchase a residence.”

They frowned, and Sarah cautiously asked, “You don’t suppose he’s here to…buy Bramble Bay, do you?”

“No, no,”Caroline hastily insisted. “Hedley would never sell it. Mildred wouldn’t let him.” She paused. “Would she?”

Hedley was Mildred’s darling, beloved boy. He was five years younger than Sarah, age twenty, but he seemed much younger than that.

He’d been cosseted and spoiled by Mildred, his every whim granted, his follies and foibles ignored, and he was worse off for it. He’d grown to be an arrogant, frivolous wastrel who viewed himself as a dandy. He spent all his time in London, gambling, racing fast carriages, and chasing fast girls.

Mildred had convinced him that he was wonderful, and he believed the whole world owed him whatever he wished to have.

Bernard hadn’t been a nobleman, so Bramble Bay wasn’t entailed. Hedley could sell it if he wanted to, but it was their home. Sarah would never agree to such a reckless decision, and she refused to accept that Mildred or Hedley would consider it.

But she didn’t trust Mildred, and if Hedley chose to pursue a certain path, Mildred would never stop him.

What was Hedley thinking? What about Mr. Sinclair? What was happening?

“I can’t predict what Hedley and Mildred might do,”Sarah claimed, her heart sinking, because she absolutely knew. Hedley had repeatedly proved himself capable of any negligent conduct, and Mildred would never counter his excesses.

“I didn’t like the looks of Mr. Hook or Miss Dubois,”Caroline said.

“Neither did I.”

“And Mr. Sinclair is definitely plotting mischief.”

“I have a very bad feeling about this. I’d best find out what they’re up to.”

“How would you?”

Sarah analyzed her options. If she confronted Mildred with irksome questions, her stepmother would tell her to mind her own business. Sarah and Hedley were cordial, and he might or might not admit the truth, depending on whether he was in a jam and didn’t want her to learn of it.

He’d always been jealous of Sarah. Their father had favored her, and compared to Hedley, she’d been an easy child to raise. She’d never caused trouble or behaved as she shouldn’t. Hedley hated that Sarah coasted through life with so few difficulties, while he constantly bounced from disaster to disaster.

Of course his adversities were of his own creation and any consequences thoroughly deserved. Not that he would ever acknowledge it.

“I should talk to Mr. Sinclair,”Sarah ultimately said.

“Are you sure?”

“He’s affable and approachable. After the uproar from their arrival dies down, I’ll seek him out.”

“What will you say?”

“I’ll simply ask what he’s about. I’m positive I can get him to confide in me.”

“What if you don’t like his answers?”

“Then I’ll speak to Mildred so she knows to be wary of him and his friends.”

“You’re mad to involve yourself with him or with Mildred.”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“We could just wait until it all crashes down on our heads.”

Sarah scoffed. “That’s not a plan, Caroline.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t.”

Sarah went inside, her thoughts awhirl as she tried to decide when and how to tackle Mr. Sinclair.

* * * *

It was late afternoon, the house quiet, the staff settled in for tea. The hallways were deserted, the shadows lengthening.

Sarah neared Mr. Sinclair’s suite, and she rolled her eyes at her ridiculousness. Would she knock and demand entrance? Would she meet with him in his private quarters? The outrageous notion didn’t bear contemplating, yet she was about to proceed.

Though every instinct screamed her lunacy, she was excited to be with him again. She wanted to grab him by his fancy lapels, to shake him for being so mystifying, for lying to her the previous day, for concealing his identity.