To Sin With A Stranger (25 page)

“Sterling?”

When he opened his eyes, it was concern coupled with great caring that he saw in Isobel’s eyes. And, aye,
love
.

“I love you, Isobel. Each day I know you, my love for you grows greater still. My heart has never been so full. I have never felt more loved than when I am with you. Knowing you, feeling your love, I could no sooner live without you than without air.”

Isobel smiled through her wet lashes as he raised his mother’s ring and fitted it onto her finger.

“A symbol of my troth…and enduring love for you, my sweet Isobel.”

Her gaze dropped. “I h-have nothing to give you…but my heart.” Her voice was thickened with emotion, and she dropped her gaze to the ring.

“Then I will be a rich man indeed, for there is nothing more precious to me in this world.” Sterling cupped her chin with this left hand and turned her face so that she had to look directly at him. “I have one more question for you.”

“Anything, Sterling.” Her breath came quick with anticipation.

He turned his chin up to her. “What did Siusan stitch on my chin?”

Isobel laughed, and suddenly her cheeks glowed like a setting sun. “It just says…Oh, I am too embarrassed to tell you.” She brought her fingertips to her lips, but her grin peeked out from either side of her hand.

“Tell me.”
Bluidy hell
. If it caused such a blush, he was sure his wicked sister had stitched
MARBLES
.

“It says…
MARRY
HIM
.” She lowered her hand and angled her head to kiss his lips. “And so I shall.”

That man is richest whose pleasures are cheapest.

Thoreau

The Carington residence
Leicester Square

You are an honorable man, Lord Blackburn,” Mr. Carington said, “though I do admit there was a time when I was greatly doubtful and feared for my daughter’s reputation.”

Sterling accepted a crystal of brandy from Isobel’s father, wondering all the while if he had just received a compliment or an undercut. “I am relieved that I have assuaged your concerns, sir.”

Carington tapped his index finger in the air. “I admit, though my gift for seeing through a gentleman to his true thoughts and nature is, dare I say it…much lauded in the House of Commons, I confess that I sorely misread your intentions, Lord Blackburn.”

“In what regard, sir?”

“Why, in every regard, it seems!” Mr. Carington walked toward his desk, crooking a finger over his shoulder at Sterling, then wordlessly touching a chair as an invitation for his guest to be seated. “I am certain Raggett will remove your wager from White’s betting book promptly, for there is no other just outcome.” He moved his glass to his lips, but withdrew it before sipping. “You have nothing to gain by marrying Isobel, so I must conclude that you do possess a true fondness for her.”

“You are correct in your assessment. I love her.”

“It is still rather extraordinary to me. After my great error in judgment of you, you still approach me to request Isobel’s hand when she is not in need of my consent. The gesture is completely unnecessary.”

“Except to show my respect for the man who, under difficult circumstances, raised such an extraordinary daughter, so passionate in her convictions,” Sterling said.

“She is that.” For the first time, Sterling saw Mr. Carington smile. “Had it not been for her expression of impassioned beliefs concerning Elgin’s marbles, I would have never gone to view the marbles myself. I would have never seen their exquisite quality and come to agree with my daughter that the marbles must be preserved at any cost.”

“So Lord Elgin’s price was met, the cost of transport and storage?” Sterling asked. That sum had been very high, and if the government agreed to the price, Isobel’s oration must have indeed been awe-inspiring.

“Lord Elgin may still fall into financial ruin—his price was not fully met—but he will have immortalized himself, as several have stated, for bringing the Parthenon marbles here for our people.” He rolled his glass around in his palms, swirling the contents. “Had it not been for Isobel, I might have folded to the jealousies of Sir Richard Payne Knight and his society and convinced the British government to punish Lord Elgin’s selfish actions by permitting his great collection to dissolve in the London rain.”

Sterling straightened in his chair. “I had not heard. So the British Museum will acquire the marbles—all of them?”

“They are being moved to the museum for storage within a sennight. We hope to display the collection very soon.”

Sterling rose. “Well, it seems two momentous events will take place then—the installation of the marbles and our wedding.”

“Indeed…” Carington scratched his nose. “Mayhap you will allow me to make your wedding even more memorable—by way of a little surprise for Isobel.”

Sterling set his glass down and leaned toward Mr. Carington. He’d seen that look before, in his own eyes many times. “What have you in mind, sir?”

Mr. Carington chuckled and beckoned for Sterling to draw closer still so Isobel, who was meant to be waiting in her bedchamber—but might have been lurking on the staircase—could not hear.

Ten of the clock in the evening
The Sinclair residence
Grosvenor Square

“Sterling told me that the wedding would be kept a secret from all but our families. We wanted a very private ceremony,” Isobel said, but even she could hear the distress in own voice.

She stood in Siusan’s bedchamber dressing for the event, but outside the stir and chatter of a great crowd made her nerves rattle.

“Och, what did you expect, dear? All of London has been following your romance,” Siusan replied. “Why, you would think Princess Charlotte herself was getting married, judging by the size of the crowd behind the wall.”

Isobel peeked between the curtains. The entire back garden was curiously covered with huge swaths of billowing white linen. She opened the curtains wider and leaned her forehead against the windowpane for a better look, but the crowd, seeing her, roared and cheered, chasing her back into the interior of the chamber.

“Siusan, why is the garden tented with linen? Has Sterling mentioned anything to you?”

“Nay, but I am sure he saw the people collecting behind the house earlier and decided to take measures to ensure your privacy. You didn’t notice there are no bed coverings or table linens anywhere in the house?” She laughed. “Nay, I expect not. You have more important things to think about this night.” Siusan grinned.

Christiana cracked open the door, “Are you dressed? Might I come in now?”

Isobel giggled.

“Don’t move,” Siusan said, as her fingers worked a belt of white satin and crepe tightly below Isobel’s bodice and then pinned it with a clasp of whitest pearls. “There, now you may turn around and look into the glass.”

Isobel turned and stood before the cheval mirror and fairly gasped at her image. She wore a rose blossom-hued crepe gown with a short train over a white satin slip, cinched with a frock back and satin stomacher front.

She caught up the train and whirled around in front of the looking glass. Her back and neckline scooped low, cut purposely so for an evening wedding. The sleeves were short and, like the hem of the gown, were edged with white puckered satin embellished with tiny freshwater pearls.

Ivy rushed into the room with a convent cross of diamonds. “This belonged to our mother. Will you wear it today?”

Isobel felt overwhelmed by sentiment, but had willed herself not to shed a single tear on this day.

But then Christiana opened her reticule and withdrew a small box of white leather. “Your father asked me to give this to you.” She lifted her palm for Isobel to take it. “These earrings were your mother’s, and now they belong to you.”

Isobel opened the leather and peered inside at the diamond studs ringed by tiny pearls. It was as if they had always been meant for this gown, for this day.

Priscilla leaned in through the doorway. “The vicar is ready. Come with me.” She smiled excitedly, glancing back repeatedly over her shoulder at Isobel as they all descended the staircase and walked down the dark passage to the French windows leading to the walled garden beyond.

Isobel tugged nervously at her French kid gloves, moving them up and over her elbows. Christiana walked behind her, weaving the pearl-headed pins and brilliants tighter into Isobel’s hair. She seemed every bit as tangled in nerves as Isobel herself.

When they turned the corner, she saw that the doors too had been draped to prevent her from peering out into the garden until they opened for her. Lachlan and Killian stood to the left and right of the windows, each waiting to press the latch and swing the doors wide for Isobel and her ladies to enter.

She glanced at Christiana, and a missish laugh wriggled from her lips. Sterling’s sisters moved up behind her, and just then, the French windows were thrown wide.

Isobel stepped forward, and all of a sudden the white swaths covering the walled garden were torn back.

Isobel gasped. The moon and stars illuminated the garden as if a thousand candles had been set into a sky of black velvet.

The sweet smell of roses teased her senses as she lifted her satin slipper and stepped onto a trail of white blossoms.

As she passed the tall hedges of roses, the reason for Sterling’s secrecy suddenly became clear.

He stood at the far end of the garden, the path of blossoms leading to him and the white-haired vicar beside him. Grant stood behind his brother, glancing at the high stone wall behind them topped with the bobbling heads and smiling faces of those in the crowd who had boosted themselves up to see over the wall and to watch the wedding of the year. The moment the crowd saw her, a great cheer rose up into the night sky.

But most incredible was that twelve of Elgin’s marbles lined the trail, six gleaming exquisitely in the moonlight on either side of her.

The scene before her was drawn from a dream so grand that she would never have even imagined it.

As she passed through the column of marbles, she glimpsed three gray-haired gentlemen on her left. Her heart leaped into her throat when she realized they were her father, Lord Elgin, and a third man who looked so like Sterling that, without a doubt, she knew he could be none other than his father, the Duke of Sinclair, come down from Scotland.

She smiled at them all as she passed, but her sole focus now was only Sterling.

Drawing to his side, she looked up into his eyes, and in them saw so much love that she could not stop the tears of joy from welling in her eyes.

He took her hand, smiled at her as he turned her to face the vicar, and within a clutch of minutes Isobel’s dream became reality as the clergyman proclaimed Sterling and her to be husband and wife.

In place of a wedding breakfast, theirs was a grand midnight feast. The gates to the walled garden were opened, and anyone who had stayed beyond the taking of vows was welcomed inside to join the celebration and to view the marbles.

“Your father has come,” Isobel said softly to Sterling as together they bit into spice cake topped with orange blossom icing. “And he is coming this way.”

“Other than a brief greeting, he hasn’t told any of us why he has come.” Sterling quickly wiped his mouth with a linen. “I suspect he heard about the wager and is here to cast me from the house.” Sterling came to his feet to await his father, when Grant burst forth with Mr. Raggett from White’s.

Sterling stiffened.
Damn it all. The timing of this could not be any worse.

Isobel stood and wrapped her arm around Sterling’s, supporting him for whatever might come.

Grant looked excited. “You will not believe it, Sterling. You simply will not, but it’s true.”

Sterling looked from Grant to Mr. Raggett, wanting to conclude this conversation momentarily so his father, the duke, would hear as little as possible.

“You are a very rich man, Lord Blackburn,” Raggett said. “You have won your wager, Lord Blackburn. You may come to White’s next week to collect your winnings. There are far too many bettors to require you to collect individually.”

Sterling stared at Raggett, and then at Grant. “It was my understanding that the wager was stricken from the betting book.”

“No, we could find no fault with the wager, though when we heard of your involvement, we did study the proceedings very carefully. White’s business thrived, the shops of St. James’s Street and Piccadilly gained from the additional patrons in the area come to place a bet.” He shook his head as if he did not wish to say it. “You won your position. I congratulate you.”

Sterling’s father stood behind Raggett, and likely had heard almost every single word about the wager. Raggett turned to leave, pausing only to tip his hat to them all.

“Sterling,” the duke said, making no attempt to keep what he was about to say private. “I have been kept informed about your doings since you have been in London. I was very distressed…until of late, when I learned of clandestine donations to the widows and orphans of Corunna—”

Sterling’s gaze flew to Isobel, who shrugged her shoulders. Clearly she had not said anything; she had only learned of it herself belatedly.

“Oh, your wager at White’s concerned me greatly, until I heard that your feelings for Miss Carington were authentic, and though you placed the wager, you were not using her for ill gains.” He set his hand on Sterling’s shoulder. “Your brothers and sisters, however, have not earned the name Sinclair and will be given no more than one thousand pounds each of the winnings—unless they wish to waive their possible future inheritance completely.”

Sterling heard Ivy, who shamelessly lingered for the lone reason of overhearing the conversation, whine at their father’s ruling, but he knew she would accept his decision.

“The wager you made risked my money, so I will make the decision concerning the rest of the winnings as well—unless you have some objection, Sterling.”

Sterling shook his head. He gazed lovingly at Isobel. He had already won the wager and had the greatest treasure imaginable at this side. “I will abide by your wishes, Father.”