The Sinner (24 page)

It angered him anyway.

The jealousy was not rational, not fair. He knew that. He controlled it. For now. It gave him one more reason to dislike Siddel, however.

“I want you to remove Siddel from this project, Fleur. Can you do that?”

“He has put me in an impossible dilemma. When I asked him to find the investors, I emphasized the need for secrecy. However, I never expected him to keep secrets from me. He refuses to tell me the investors’ names, even though he claims to be close to finding enough. I have begun worrying that he is stalling me while he works with others to pursue an alternate route. If so, I will lose the advantage and there will be nothing I can do about it.”

Dante ran his fingers over the northern strip of the map. “It he is stalling, it is possible that he is merely preventing any railroad from being built. For Gregory or someone else. New pits will produce coal that competes with that in the north. If the port of Hartlepool grows because of coal shipments, it will compete with Newcastle. If one connects the western coal fields to the coast, there are powerful men who will not be pleased.”

“Do you think Siddel told them?”

“I know that he has a relationship with a man who is employed by a family in the Grand Alliance. However, whatever he has done, it does not matter. Siddel is out of this now. Do you understand that?”

“Yes. I think that one way or another, he betrayed me. Which means I have failed. I do not think that I can go forward on the school. I can afford to build it but not to create the endowment that will ensure its thriving.”

Her voice was firm but her expression very sad. She appeared bereft as she announced the death of her dream.

“We will find a way to build the school, Fleur. You will fulfill your great purpose. If a different way must be found, we will find one.”

She looked up with a trembling smile. It was not clear that she believed him, but the warmth in her eyes said that she appreciated his resolve.

“I must write my letter to Mr. Siddel.”

She walked toward her sitting room, and he aimed for his own chambers. He also had a letter to write.

“Dante,” she said, stopping him. “When I told you about the school being my purpose, after we met with Mr. Hampton, you said you understood.”

And he did.

“You said that you could comprehend what it meant to live without one and then to find it.”

He could.

“Perhaps one day you will tell me about your purpose, Dante. I would like to hear about it, and share it with you.”

He watched her disappear into the sitting room.

You, my love. The purpose that I found is you.

chapter
23

H
ugh Siddel stared in shock at the letter he held. It contained only one sentence, penned in Fleur’s neat hand. With no ceremony or explanation, she released him from their agreement regarding his role in the railroad project.

His fingers closed on the paper until they made a fist. That bastard Duclairc had forced her to write this. The stupid woman had confided in him after all, and he was using this opportunity to exact a little revenge for that game of cards.

Forcing some calm, he calculated what this meant. There was no way for Cavanaugh to learn this letter had come. If Fleur was giving up on her project, Cavanaugh would remain ignorant of that too. Those payments Cavanaugh made to ensure the project was delayed could continue a long while.

He smiled to himself. Actually, Fleur’s decision concluded matters very neatly. Stalling had gotten difficult. He had worried how long he could continue putting her off. If Duclairc had discovered their association and forbidden her to continue it, he could not have chosen a better moment to interfere.

Then again, perhaps Duclairc was still ignorant. Another whim had captured her attention, perhaps. Some other project. Maybe her social diary was filling so completely with parties and diversions that charitable endeavors now bored her.

Contented that the letter afforded the opportunity to dangle Cavanaugh indefinitely, Siddel left his chambers to go out. He met his butler on the stairs, coming up with a salver in his hand.

Siddel read the card. “In broad daylight? Astonishing. Where did you put him?”

“He is in the morning room, sir.”

Siddel detoured to the morning room, where a very agitated Gregory Farthingstone paced the floor.

“I am surprised to see you here, Farthingstone. Did you just walk in the front door, where the world could see you?”

“This could not wait for the dawn, sir. I face such ruin that it may not matter what the world sees in any case.” Farthingstone’s face had gone very red. He paused in his pacing and breathed deeply to compose himself.

“Sit, my friend, and calm yourself.”

Farthingstone obeyed. Rest only brought an expression of extreme desolation. Overcome, he did not speak, but merely held out a piece of paper.

Siddel took it. It was a letter from Dante Duclairc. Brief like Fleur’s, it also contained but one sentence:
My wife will have her school, even if I have to cut and carry the stone myself.

“He is mad,” Farthingstone muttered. “They both lack the sense of newborns. She found a man just as impractical as she is. A fitting match, and I am destroyed because of it.”

“Why did he write this?”

“I met with him. I laid out my evidence, and it is very strong, sir, very strong. New facts have come to my attention, you see. I believed I had a right understanding with Duclairc regarding the scandal that would result if we went to court. I offered him a handsome sum to leave that property as farms.”

“That was your solution? To bribe the man?”

“I can do without your scorn. It was hell on my pride to approach him as a gentleman.”

“With the fortune he has now, I doubt the amount you could offer would sway him.”

“You do not need to remind me how little is at my disposal for negotiations. Nor should I have to remind you how those negotiations will benefit you as well. A man in your position may even decide that half a loaf is better than none and aid me out of my predicament.”

Siddel let that suggestion pass. The thing about loaves was, if you gave away half, you went hungry.

Farthingstone dully accepted that the overture would have no symphony. “Duclairc would have been better off with two hundred than if she sold. The man is an imbecile if he did not comprehend that. I thought he did, but—” He gestured to the letter and his face reddened again. “It is very vexing to have one’s future at the whim of such fools, I tell you.”

Siddel looked at Duclairc’s letter again. He comprehended its implications more than Farthingstone ever could.

Duclairc knew everything. Even the parts Farthingstone did not. Worse, Fleur was not giving up. She planned to pursue her Grand Project as well as build that school, and her worthless husband had agreed to permit it.

If she succeeded, not only the payments from Cavanaugh would stop. All of the income that supported him and his pleasures would cease. His uncle’s legacy would become worthless.

He handed the letter back to Farthingstone. “You cannot allow this to happen, of course.”

“Damnation, I know that. However, I am at a loss as to discern how to stop it. Duclairc’s barrister has drowned Chancery in petitions and my own man cannot make headway quickly enough. It could be months before my standing is even accepted, and by then . . .” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I learned that she is having the school designed already. She intends to move soon.”

“Not soon enough, if you move more quickly.” Those designs must have been commissioned when she thought most of the investors were collected. Starting over would take some time. Still, it did not look good.

Farthingstone exhaled his misery and his body shrank in on itself. “Duclairc will probably get his brother to buy the rest of the land so she has the funds to build. Or his friend St. John. Or his friend Burchard. Land is always desired. Once the funds are in hand, she will start on the school.”

“You must stop them from selling. You definitely must stop them from building. It is that simple.”

“Easy for you to demand. There is no damn way to damn stop them, I tell you.”

“Of course there is.”

Farthingstone went still. He stared at the floorboards.

Siddel strolled over to the window and gazed out. He pictured Fleur in that hooded cloak the first time they met in the church, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement while she explained her insane scheme. She had looked so much like the girl he had loved that—

Well, no good would come from such sentiment now. She was not a girl anymore but a married woman who was determined to take actions that would inconvenience him most severely.

“Tell me, Farthingstone, I am curious. What happens to that Durham property if the current owner passes away without children?”

The answer was slow in coming. “It is bequeathed to a charity devoted to the reform of prisons.”

Siddel turned to him. “I have always thought that prison reform is a worthy cause, deserving of support. Haven’t you?”

Farthingstone looked away. He said nothing. The flush in his face drained, leaving him very pale.

Fleur collected all the letters and papers relating to the Grand Project. She removed them from her desk and placed them in the coffer along with the drawings for the school.

As she closed the coffer lid, she admitted that she would miss the thrill of planning for her railroad. It had been exciting. Even the secrecy had appealed to her. She had been foolish to think that she could bring it off, however. Such elaborate plans can founder on one wrong step, and she had taken a big one. His name was Hugh Siddel.

Eventually she would build her school. No Grand Project would derive from doing so. No great endowment would ensure its survival. She would find a way to support it, however. Dante would help her.

Dante. She regretted that she did not have the Grand Project to distract her tonight. She had attended the theater with Laclere and Bianca, but Dante had not joined them. He had gone elsewhere, and she was trying hard not to speculate where that elsewhere might be.

A new kind of jealousy wanted to take root in her heart. She fought to prevent that. She suspected how desolating it would be.

She had decided not to think about the life he led when he left this house, but only about the one they shared when he was here. When she had chosen the kind of marriage she wanted, she had known she would probably not have it exactly the way she hoped.

The night was still young, but she prepared for bed. She would continue this habit, she decided. She would not lie to herself, nor would she picture him with other women, but she would make sure she never knew if he did not return of a night.

She got into bed, but sleep did not come peacefully. Her dozing was fitful, full of images of Dante, and her heart heavy with a fear of heartbreak.

Suddenly she was very awake. Instantly alert. She turned her head and saw candles in the room, over near the door to her dressing room.

“Dante?”

He came to her. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not yet.”

He put the brace of candles on a table and sat on the bed. “Did you enjoy the theater?”

“Very much. Your brother’s box was busy, with everyone visiting to welcome them home. I wish you had come.”

She instantly regretted saying that. She scooted around and sat beside him on the bed’s edge. “I am sorry. I know that even being really married does not mean that we spend every evening together. I am out of practice being sophisticated, that is all.”

He untied his cravat and pulled it off. “Do not be sorry. I do not want you to become sophisticated. I know all too well that it also means becoming indifferent.”

He shed his collar and waistcoat in silence. She could sense his mind working.

He paused a good while before turning to his shirt and other garments.

“You have not asked me about my evening, Fleur.”

She did not know what to say.

“I know why you did not ask. You have been practicing that part of being sophisticated for some time now, haven’t you?”

Yes. And not mastering the skill at all.

“I went to my clubs. It was fairly boring. The cards do not interest me as they used to.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes, but it still grew dull after a while. I found myself thinking that your company would be much more interesting.”

“I am glad that you did.”

“McLean thinks my sobriety is your fault. He says that marriage games have ruined me for all others.”

“I would like to believe that, Dante. However, you have been a man on the town for many years and I think that you know more games than I can imagine. I am at a disadvantage.”

“There is no competition taking place. You are at no disadvantage.”

That was not true. The saintly Fleur Monley had little to offer a man with his worldly experiences. Even the goddess Fleur Duclairc was at a disadvantage.

He turned to her and began unbuttoning the top of her bed gown. “Are you trying to say that you want to learn other games, Fleur?”

“I am so ignorant of what they could be that I do not know if I want to learn them.”

“I have already shown you one.”

She knew what he meant. “These other ways seem to ensure the woman’s pleasure, not the man’s.”

“I get great pleasure in making you scream for me.” He slid her gown off so that she sat naked beside him. “However, to be precise, I only showed you half of one.”

He kissed her, embracing her against his skin, still sitting side by side as politely as if the bed were a garden bench.

Her mind worked on what he had just said. A very shocking notion of what the other half could be presented itself.

He sensed her astonishment. As he kissed her, she felt his small smile form.

Turning her in his arms, he laid her on her back across his lap, with her head and shoulders on one side of his thighs and her hips on the other, and her body sprawled, arched and vulnerable. She could not even embrace him like this, and her arms fell limply on either side of her head.

His gaze slowly moved over all of her. His trailing hand followed the same path. Both made her body very sensitive, all over. The most delicious anticipation purred through her.

His light caress titillated mercilessly. Anticipation of more purposeful touches had her half mad. His fingers kept glossing close to her nipples and thighs, but never actually touched the places she really wanted. It aroused her anyway, slowly, relentlessly, incredibly.

“There is no competition, Fleur.” His lids lowered and his hand brushed against her nipple, making her gasp and arch. “It is very good with you.”

His palm gently circled over her breast, teasing the tight tip. Laying here like this, watching him watch her arousal, unable to embrace him or hide her growing madness, was incredibly erotic.

His phallus pressed against her right breast and she bent her arm so she could touch him. His gaze moved to her face while his hand continued its breathtaking patterns. She touched him lightly, as he touched her, so the erotic torture would be mutual.

He raised her shoulders and she expected him to kiss her. Instead, he gently flipped her, so her face and breasts pressed the sheet and her hips crossed his lap. A long, firm caress from her neck down her back commanded she stay like that. Blind now, she could only feel.

“You are so lovely, Fleur. By day or night.” His hand smoothed over her bottom. She could not contain how arousing it was to lay in this submissive position. A wicked, dangerous element colored her climbing desire, even though his caress was gentle.

His hand moved down to the flesh of her inner thighs. Her excitement immediately centered near his hand, and her muddled mind started a silent begging.