The Sinner (22 page)

Her body released her. She cried as a powerful climax quaked through her. She floated in a bliss of perfect sensation, with the echo of a cry filling her head.

Awareness of the bed and chamber returned to her slowly. It was some time before she rose above the sensual stupor, however.

Dante was waiting for her when she did. She opened her eyes to find him watching her. It seemed that the room still rang with her scream.

“I think it is a good thing that I sent the servants away,” he said.

“Oh, yes.” She also thought it had been wise to delay “later” until after they left Laclere Park.

chapter
21

I
t is just as you said it would be, Dante. No world exists outside these walls, and only the two of us exist inside them.” Fleur nestled closer. “When will they return?”

Her words pulled him out of the cloud of contentment in which he had been floating while he held her closely.

“I handed out enough coin to keep them busy at theaters and taverns most of the night.”

He turned on his side and propped his head on his hand. Her beauty awed him. Her courage did. He had not been able to lure her from the fear with pleasure. It had taken her own will, her own choice, to do that. It humbled him that she had donned such bravery in order to share passion with him.

She had been determined, magnificent, glorious.

I want to have a family.

Her soft, pale skin felt more luxurious than the most precious cloth. He caressed her shoulder and arm slowly and her lids lowered as they shared the touch.

I want you.

He had never in his life heard such flattering words. They had been spoken by others, but not in this way, or for this reason. He wanted her too, also in ways he had never desired before.

That is how much I trust you. There is no need to test that.

He would never forget those astonishing words.

I want us to be fully married.

He glanced over to his writing desk and thought about the letter in its drawer. It was from Farthingstone and had been waiting for him when he returned this morning. The man wanted to negotiate, and Dante suspected the direction those negotiations would take.

He gave his wife a kiss, to put thoughts of Farthingstone and his maneuvers out of his mind.

It was not to be. Fleur turned to him, looking so lovely with her hair half down and her nakedness draped with the sheet.

“What did Mr. Burchard want? You said you would tell me later.”

The meeting seemed a lifetime ago, not mere hours. Dante had to force his memory back to it. Anticipation of Fleur’s return meant he only partly listened to Adrian’s information, and he had not deliberated its meaning at all.

“Burchard undertook some inquiries on my behalf.”

“You asked him to do this?”

“No. He has some experience in such things and used his own initiative as my friend.”

“Much as St. John and Mr. Hampton used their initiatives and made inquiries about me, you mean. You have very dedicated friends. Although one might also say they are a little presumptuous.”

“One might say so.”

“What sort of inquiries did Mr. Burchard make? More regarding me?”

“He inquired about Farthingstone. He learned little that could not be discovered by anyone. That Farthingstone received a legacy as a young man, which included that property in Durham that neighbors yours. He lives simply considering his income and is well regarded.”

“We already know that.”

“The rest was more interesting, however. Farthingstone was not always so sober and upstanding. He had a wilder youth, and as a young man looked to be one who would come to no good. Burchard’s aunt remembers him from back then and related how a miraculous transformation occurred rather suddenly when Farthingstone was nearing thirty years old. The change was so complete that his past has been all but forgotten.”

“I would prefer he still gambled and drank and ruined himself than that he presented himself as so respectable while he tried to imprison me and then destroy my reputation. The world is too quick to judge for good or ill in these things. I daresay your friend McLean is more honorable than Gregory, but McLean is notorious and Gregory is admired.”

There it was, the world as seen through Fleur Monley’s eyes. He was glad that she tried to perceive the essentials, even if sometimes she saw more than was there. When she looked at Dante Duclairc, her optimism blinded her.

“If that was all he could tell you, it wasn’t very interesting at all. Was there more?”

“That was most of it.” Dante was not sure he wanted to broach the rest. Not now, at least. He did not want it intruding on this day and this bed.

“I am curious now, so you must tell me all.”

He caressed her shoulder again and turned his gaze away from her face so he would not see her reaction. He was not sure what he avoided witnessing. “He also discovered that there is a connection between Farthingstone and Siddel. A distant one, and it probably means nothing.”

She did not respond for a while. He might have said nothing at all.

“Did you ask him to make inquiries regarding Mr. Siddel, Dante?”

“I asked him if he had cause to think they are friends.”

“They are not.”

“Fleur, your stepfather learned you were in that cottage. Siddel is a man who could have told him. If he did, it meant that Siddel knew he was in the county that night. It may even have been Siddel whom you overheard speaking in the next chamber the night before.”

She tilted her head and looked up at him. She did not appear angry, but thoughtful. Very thoughtful. “What connection did Mr. Burchard discover?”

“Farthingstone has no apparent friendship with Siddel. He did, however, have one with Siddel’s uncle. They shared bad behavior together.”

“Much like you and McLean?”

“Much like that. Siddel’s own comfort depends upon a legacy of his own, from this uncle.”

“Or from his business affairs. I expect his success in those has enhanced his fortune considerably.”

“It is not at all clear that he is so successful in business. Burchard could find little evidence of any grand financial schemes, despite Siddel’s reputation for them.”

“No doubt he keeps them secret.”

“Burchard has the means to discover secrets when he wants to. He undertook inquiries for the government when he was younger, and there are men willing to share information with him that they would not give to others.”

He could see her weighing that, although her expression did not change.

The night of the ball, he had demanded that she not use Siddel for an adviser any longer. She had not welcomed that command, and he had not been convinced she would obey it. She may not have.

She looked right in his eyes. “You do not like him at all, do you?”

“As I told you, I do not think he can be trusted.”

“It is more than that. You get very hard when you speak of him. Even now, your mood has darkened.”

“Perhaps that is because I wonder if your relationship with him continues.”

Her fingers touched his face and drifted over his cheek and jaw. “What is this man to you?”

He stopped her hand and took it in his own. He gazed down at the delicate fingers and ran his thumb along the back of her palm.

She waited for him to answer, but she would accept it if he did not. If he kissed her, the question itself would be forgotten.

“Some years ago, there were some people blackmailing prominent men. They were stopped by my brother. I think that Hugh Siddel was one of the blackmailers but escaped detection.”

Her expression fell in surprise. “That is a serious accusation to make, Dante.”

“I will not make it publicly unless I have proof. It is doubtful I ever will.”

“If you don’t have proof, how—”

“He knows things he should not, Fleur. Things he could not know unless he was involved.” He hesitated, and told himself no good could come from explaining it. Yet the impulse to go on was greater than the one to spare himself the pain of forming the words.

She said nothing. No prodding or insistence. She just watched him. Her expression was so thoughtful. Her eyes held worry and concern, but no expectations.

“I inadvertently helped them, Fleur. A woman among them used my desire for her to gain access to some documents. Those papers were then used to blackmail two men. Both of those men killed themselves.”

He had never told anyone this. Never even said it aloud. It sounded even more damnable than he expected. His chest felt heavy, as if the air in his lungs had thickened.

Fleur caressed his face again, more deliberately. “The crime was not yours, but theirs. No man could have foreseen what would happen. You should not blame your—”

“One of the men who killed themselves was my eldest brother.”

A flicker of shock flashed in her eyes. Then she looked at him with the warmest sympathy he had ever seen.

She understood. He did not have to say more. Her honest, clear eyes seemed to see into his mind and even his heart and perceive the guilt he carried. He could tell she knew that no excuses or absolution could make a difference.

And yet, somehow, just her gaze changed things. That accepting silence eased the weight of this old memory. Finally sharing it with this friend brought some peace to the corner of his soul where he kept this disgrace hidden.

She shifted closer and embraced him, laying her soft cheek against his chest, holding him more than he held her.

“We have let the outside world intrude, after all,” she said quietly. She sounded a little sad.

Not the outside world. Their world. The one in which they lived, full of the people and events that affected their lives and this marriage. He knew what she meant, however.

He gently tugged on the sheet. It slowly slid down her body as the soft folds receded. He caressed her, his hand following the same path as the sheet’s edge over softness and curves. He pulled her closer, to his heart.

“I know a way to make the world go away, Fleur. I know a place where it cannot find us.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Take me there, Dante.”

The next afternoon, Dante waited in the study for a visitor to arrive. He had spent little time in this chamber, and this was the first time he would conduct official business here. Or anywhere.

He had always avoided the serious financial dealings that he associated with studies. As a young man he had found them boring and bothersome, the kinds of matters best left to old men and dutiful sorts like his brother.

He studied the Piranesi engravings lining one wall and the Canaletto painting showing the Grand Canal of Venice on another. If meetings like this became a habit, he would keep the engravings but the Canaletto would have to go. He did not care for the artist’s
veduti
of Italy. They were so dully acceptable. No risk at all.

The door opened and Williams brought the expected card. Farthingstone was precisely punctual.

“It was generous of you to receive me,” Farthingstone said when he arrived. “May I say at the outset that I hope you and I can settle amiably the entire problem that besets us, and in a way that ensures the welfare of Hyacinth’s daughter.”

They sat in two chairs. Farthingstone took in the room and smiled when he noticed the painting. “Ah, the Canaletto. I remember when Mr. Monley purchased it. I favor his art. That is an excellent example, if I may say so.”

Dante studied this dull man who favored dull Canaletto and tried to picture him chasing naked girls through a summer garden, as Burchard’s aunt had described one scandalous rumor of a long-ago bacchanal.

“You had important matters to discuss, you said,” Dante prompted.

Farthingstone’s expression grew very serious. “I regret to say that I suspect you do not know the full extent of Fleur’s condition. What I have to say may come as a shock to you.”

“Consider me prepared for the worst.”

Farthingstone had the decency to flush and feign hesitation before he gave the bad news. “I have discovered that prior to your alliance with her, her behavior was even more odd than I knew. Among other things, she visited brothels and went about town so unprotected that she even was arrested during a disturbance.”

He treated Dante to the details of both events, while Dante speculated on which of the servants had been coaxed to reveal this.

“It sounds as if both episodes were long ago.”

“Even a brief lapse does not bode well, sir, not at all. However, there are more recent happenings of a more serious nature.” Farthingstone tilted his head and looked up dolefully. “She was caught stealing. Tea, no less. She hardly needs to, which makes it all the worse. For all we know, she goes about the city on those solitary walks of hers, acting the thief for reasons only her sad condition explains.”

“I know of the incident. She stole nothing. It was a misunderstanding.”

“Indeed? Then her explanation for being in the back room of The Cigar Divan should stand? Better she admit to theft, sir. The alternative is even worse—her belief that she saw her long-lost brother enter. Especially since she never had a brother.” Farthingstone shook his head sadly. “I fear that part of the time she lives in a world of her mind’s own making. Normal proprieties and judgment do not exist for her because of it.”

“Farthingstone, I have no evidence that my wife lives in any world other than ours. I have witnessed nothing that indicates she is anything other than completely rational.”

Farthingstone’s lidded gaze implied he found his host stupid at best. “I think that you do not fully comprehend her mind, sir. You force me to a matter that I had hoped to avoid.”