Closer To Sin (35 page)

Sin raised a shoulder in resignation. ‘I’ve no objection, my Lady, provided she’s prepared to ride alongside. Not much room in the curricle, you know.’ Marthe turned to Lady Carrick with a horrified look upon her face. ‘You do ride, of course, Marthe?’ Sin queried.

‘No, m’Lord.’

Liliane suppressed a sigh as Lady Carrick’s lips pinched tight. ‘Great-Aunt Woolner—’

She held up a silencing hand. ‘Thank you, Marthe, please tell Everett we will require the services of a groom, and for the barouche to be hitched. Lord Esselton may leave his curricle here for the duration of his outing.’ Her eyes drilled into Sin. ‘Don’t say a word, Esselton. I don’t like this one little bit. Marthe will accompany you, and you are to have my niece returned here no later than two o’clock.’ With a curt nod, she turned and sailed from the room.

‘Scorched by the dragon again,’ Sin mumbled under his breath.

Liliane choked. ‘What?’

His answering chuckle was self-deprecating. ‘One day I’ll tell you how I came to be in such good standing with your Great-Aunt.’

***

Liliane tipped her head back to watch a circling flock of birds. There was not a cloud in the sky; it was the perfect day for a picnic. The barouche rumbled through the entrance to Kensington Gardens and Hughes, the groom who had been assigned to drive them, slowed the vehicle to avoid a dog racing across the pathway. Opposite her, Marthe was attempting to look inconspicuous with her hands neatly folded in her lap.

Liliane plucked at her dress. Yvette had helped her to choose it during one of their many shopping expeditions since arriving in town. It was the colour of sky blue hydrangeas and had the effect of emphasising the deep sapphire blue of her eyes. She had also purchased a straw bonnet to wear with it, which Marthe had decorated in ribbons of a corresponding colour and sprays of small white flowers. Obviously none of it was worthy of Sin’s notice, though. Searching for something to say, she snuck a peek at him from the corner of her eye. He was patently annoyed at having had his plans so effectively routed by Lady Carrick.

‘You’re not still sulking about Great-Aunt Woolner having confiscated your curricle, are you?’

He grunted. ‘I don’t sulk. I was looking forward to giving my team a run.’

‘Sounds like sulking to me,’ she prodded, some demon inside her wanting to needle him for a reaction.

Sin smirked and relaxed back against the leather squab. ‘I only took possession of them two days ago. They’re one of the finest matched pairs you will find anywhere.’

‘Then I expect there was some fierce competition for them at the auctions.’

He tipped his hat towards an acquaintance before replying. ‘No, my brother-in-law, George Stanley, has a stud near Newmarket. He has a particular interest in breeding high quality carriage horses. They were bred and trained to specifically meet my requirements.’

She turned slightly and studied him. Funny, but she hadn’t thought about Sin having sisters, family members who cared for him and who would probably want to meet her if they heard news he was courting her. And they would most certainly want to meet her if they learnt she was his wife. The back of her eyes stung. She would love to be a part of a large family, one where there was warmth and love and laughter. ‘Do you just have the one sister?’

He gave a dry laugh. ‘I have five of the meddlesome busy bodies. Four older and one younger—and each of them think it’s their preordained right to oversee my life. My oldest sister Georgina is the worst. Each winter she hosts a house party and invites a swag of hopefuls for me to look over. It’s got to the point where I turn up a couple of days beforehand, dredge up some excuse or another, and then flee before the guests arrive.’

‘And I never imagined you to be the cowardly type.’

‘As they say, there’s bravery and then there’s stupidity.’ He cast an eye around the park. ‘Where would you like to picnic, by the Round Pond?’

‘Oh no, down by the Long Water would be much nicer. I prefer the more natural surrounds.’

Sin delivered instructions to Hughes, who drove them about until they found a secluded spot to set out their picnic. Marthe passed the picnic rug and hamper down to Hughes and then climbed down to assist him to lay it on the grass.

Sinclair lifted Liliane down from the barouche and deposited her on the ground. Now to clear the playing field. He waved at Hughes dismissively. ‘There’s no need for you to do that, I can take care of it later, just stack the things next to the trunk of that tree.’ He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, handing it to the groom. ‘Then you can take Marthe and go and find yourselves somewhere to have a meal. I don’t want to see either of you back until one-thirty.’

‘But my Lord,’ appealed Marthe, ‘Lady Carrick will have us dismissed.’ She drew herself up to the full extent of her diminutive height and straightened her shoulders. ‘Besides, I would be remiss in my duties if I were to leave Miss Desailly here with no chaperone.’

‘Marthe, I applaud your dedication, but Miss Desailly is perfectly safe under my care. And, unless you choose to tell her yourself, Lady Carrick will never learn of your luncheon treat from me.’

Both Hughes and Marthe stood unmoving, neither wishing to countermand Sinclair’s instructions but patently uncomfortable of the notion of leaving Liliane alone in his company.

Liliane nodded her head and smiled gently at them. ‘It’s okay. I am perfectly fine here with Lord Esselton. Please, go and enjoy a couple of hours of freedom, the opportunity doesn’t come along very often.’

Reluctantly, Hughes assisted Marthe back into the barouche and drove away. ‘One all,’ Sinclair mumbled under his breath. Lady Carrick may have the pleasure of believing she’d thwarted him, but he’d had the last say.

Rummaging through the hamper he found a loaf of bread and tore off a few chunks. ‘Come,’ he linked his arm through Liliane’s, ‘let’s go see if there are ducks to feed.’

‘Tell me about your other sisters,’ Liliane prompted as they walked along the water’s edge.

‘Are you planning to start colluding with them?’ he challenged.

She said nothing other than to raise her eyebrows at him.

‘Right,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘As I said, I have five sisters. Georgina married Merrick when I was still a lad. After her comes Emilee—she’s married to Baron Hobson. Then there is Lady Helene Blake, followed by Charlotte, who is married to Stanley, the horse breeder. Marianne is the baby of the family. She married Beechworth two years ago. Between the lot of them I have something in the vicinity of three nieces and eight nephews.’ He shrugged. ‘I may have lost count, but my mother is deliriously happy.’ He tossed a chunk of bread to a swan that was flapping its wings and honking at them. ‘Well, almost. The icing on the cake would be if I were to present her with my heir.’ And once she met Liliane she would be ecstatic with the prospect of another grandchild to coddle. Perhaps recruiting some reinforcements may not be such a bad idea.

Liliane relieved him of a slice of the bread and crumbled it between her fingers. ‘Do you have a cousin who could inherit?’

‘Well, there’s Cornelius,’ he smiled. ‘A charming and most affable fellow who loves hair pomade and brightly coloured waistcoats. He’s an engaging conversationalist and great company at a house party, particularly if you’re lucky enough to be paired with him for charades.’ He tossed a couple of crumbs towards a duckling. ‘But I doubt he can be relied upon to secure the succession, so the joy will probably go to his younger brother Tobias.’

She scattered the breadcrumbs upon the water. ‘I see,’ she vaguely answered.

Sinclair tossed the last of the bread at the swan and turned her back towards their picnic blanket. ‘I’m famished. Cook promised me she’d pack egg and bacon pie, as well as some of her scones and raspberry jam. I hope she remembered to include the cream.’

Liliane tossed her bonnet to the side as she sat upon the blanket. They were shielded by the trees so there was no one about to comment upon her impropriety. Certainly no Freddy Parkes, at any rate. She didn’t realise how hungry she was until she bit into a generous serving of the pie. It was delicious, particularly accompanied by a glass of crisp white wine from the bottle Sin procured from the bottom of the hamper.

As they ate, Sin entertained her with stories of hijinks he, Nate and Gareth indulged in as boys. ‘There was one time, when we were still at Eton,’ he reminisced, ‘we snuck out to see some troubadours perform Hamlet and Gareth convinced them to let him play Osric. Nate and I dressed as minor characters. Your Great-Aunt Woolner was in the audience and had conniptions when she saw us.’

Liliane laughed. She had no problem imagining Great-Aunt Woolner being outraged by something like that. She had very fixed opinions as to how the nobility should behave. ‘Is that why she dislikes you so much?’

Sin grimaced. ‘Not quite. That was just one in a long line of crimes. It was when we came down from Oxford one weekend—the three of us had spent the day at the races, followed by several hours at a less than respectable drinking establishment. We were well and truly in our cups and apparently I issued the dare to ride our horses into Almacks. I made it as far as the portico before we were stopped.’

He raked a hand through his hair. ‘If I had stopped there, I may have been forgiven. But the next night Gareth and I turned up at her annual ball in the company of a couple of sailors and two ship-side doxies. At the time, it had the desired effect, but I admit it was not my proudest moment, and I would like to think I’ve made up for that behaviour since. Alas, Lady Carrick has a very long and very unforgiving memory.’

‘Well, that explains a lot. I’ve been quite taken aback by the snipping between the two of you.’ And that definitely explained Great-Aunt Woolner’s promotion of the very proper Freddy.

‘Snipping?’ He laughed. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

The shadows shifted, protecting them from the worst of the midday sun. Around them bees flitted from flower to flower with a gentle drone. Liliane felt her eyelids grow heavy and was about to lie down when Sin interrupted her reverie. ‘And now for the piece de resistance,’ he said with a flourish, presenting a plate of scones and a small pot of raspberry jam. ‘Ah, she’s a good lady—cream.’

Liliane piled her scone high with lashings of jam and a dollop of cream. Goodness, she wouldn’t be able to walk after she had finished these. ‘Mmh, this is divine,’ she groaned between mouthfuls. ‘I’m sure these are the best scones I have ever eaten. Did your cook make the jam as well? I might have to come and raid your larder.’

‘I’ll send some around for you.’ Liliane stilled as he leaned in closer, his form blocking out all else. ‘Come here,’ he beckoned. ‘You have some just here,’ he moved closer and licked a small drop of jam from the corner of her mouth.

Her breath lodged in her throat and she felt the heat of his tongue to the tips of her toes. Oh dear, he was making a habit of that. ‘And some more just here,’ he swiped his tongue across the length of her bottom lip. Her toes curled. ‘I’m beginning to think I may like raspberries better,’ he said before he covered her mouth with his own.

Liliane slipped her arms around his neck and let him pull her down against him. It was hard to maintain her determination to keep her distance from him when he was so persistently hacking away at her barriers. She tasted the tart freshness of the jam on his breath, and licked the outline of his mouth, removing all traces of the sweet condiment.

The kiss was languid and warm. She closed her eyes to enjoy the interlude; their public setting precluded them from exploring further. There was no urgency, no expectation. She felt lethargic, content to melt into him, to breathe in time to his rhythm.

Sin rolled to his back and pulled her with him until she lay tucked into his side with her head resting upon his chest and closed her eyes, enjoying the steady thud of his heart. It was so very tempting to let the world fade from around them. The reality of their situation could not be ignored, though, and with a sigh she flipped onto her stomach.

‘Sin, last night you intimated that I was pursuing my own agenda. What did you mean by that?’

Sin blew out a breath of air and sat up. He drew his knees up under his chin and sat contemplating the water for some moments. ‘Look, Liliane, I didn’t want to be trapped into marriage with anyone any more than you wished to be trapped into marriage with me.’

Liliane sat herself up and put some space between them. Some conversations were better without the distraction of a fascinating man to cloud one’s judgement. ‘And that’s why I said we need to have as little to do with each other as possible. Why I have said the reality of who we are, where we are, does not change the conditions we agreed upon when we were forced to wed in the first instance.’

‘What you need to consider, though, is that this may be an irreversible situation. We may find ourselves linked in holy matrimony until one of us shuffles from this mortal coil.’

‘But—’

Sin groaned. ‘It doesn’t make it easy for either of us when you keep proclaiming that you wish to seek your own destiny. The fact is, you did go in search of your own destiny, and this is where it got you. You, we, need to work out how we mean to go forward.’

Liliane leapt to her feet and stood scowling down at him. ‘There are some things I just can’t overlook, Sin.’ She huffed in frustration, ‘You knowingly deceived me about everything—your identity, your true nationality—hell, for all I know, you could have been spying for the French.’ Oh God, she’d gone too far, letting her unruly tongue and own desperation lash out at him unfairly.

Sin jumped to his feet and pointed a finger at her. ‘Never cast aspersions on my loyalties, not if you wish your good name to remain intact.’

Liliane felt the blood drain from her face; she had never seen, had never believed, that he could be capable of such intense anger.

‘But for the record,’ he continued, his voice deep and menacing, ‘
you
are a hypocrite.’ He took a step closer. ‘
You
deceived
me
on just as many levels—more, in fact. Every aspect of yourself that you presented to me was a lie. From my perspective, your deception is immeasurably worse. You were doing nothing other than playing childish games, Liliane. Your selfishness put my assignment, and the lives of many other operatives, at risk. My deceptions were to ensure not only my safety, but the ongoing safety of British soldiers and sailors. What you did was inexcusable.’