The Duke's Night of Sin (8 page)

Lady Priscilla stepped forward to eye the ribbon, and for the briefest instant, she excitedly reached for it, but her brother pulled her back. “If it is not
yours,
Priscilla, then we ought not waste the duke’s time. His time in London is short.”

Her smile fell from her lips. “While we did attend the gala, Duke, I confess the ribbon is not mine.” Then, a brightness lit her vibrant blue eyes. “Though … I could pretend that it is, if it would shorten your quest, so that you may leave Town when planned.”

Sebastian didn’t at first know how to reply, but
then he saw that both she and Lord Grant were quietly laughing. Ah, a joke. Sebastian rose. “I thank you for your kind offer, Lady Priscilla, and … I shall let you know if it becomes necessary to accept it.” With that, he bowed to them both and followed Poplin to the door.

He had traveled this road to its end and found nothing. He had no notion where he would turn next.

Siusan had just flung her portmanteau atop her pallet and opened it when Priscilla and Grant raced into her bedchamber.

Priscilla bent and rested her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “Oh—oh my God, Su, the Duke of Exeter—” She shoved the portmanteau aside and sat down on the bed, still panting from her race up the staircase.

“I know,” Siusan replied. She tossed a pair of walking boots into the case. “I peeked out the window when I heard knocking at the door and saw that we had a gentleman caller.”

“Then you must agree with me, he is certainly the most handsome gentleman in all of London,” Priscilla said.

“Actually, I only saw the top of his hat, and,
when he was sitting in the parlor, his back.” Though, lud, she wished she had seen him. The man who had made love to her. The man she must avoid at all costs.

Siusan rolled her silk stockings and put them inside one of the walking boots.

“Thankfully, you didn’t come into the parlor,” Grant began.

Siusan whirled around. “But I very nearly did! I paused at the mirror in the passageway to tuck back a loose hair, when I heard Grant identify him as the Duke of Exeter.” Even now, the stress of the near meeting set moisture beading across her brow. She pressed a cooling palm to her forehead. Lud, her heart was still pounding madly in her chest. “What if I had walked in? What if he recognized me?”

“I daresay, he likely would have. Out of the hundreds of women at the gala that night,
something
led him here. But it also led him away again.” Grant paced before the pallet. “And I think that something may be that, at this moment, he believes there are only two Sinclair sisters.”

“What do you mean?” Siusan settled her brush and pin box inside the leather case, then moved around the pallet to Grant.

Priscilla grabbed her arm urgently. “He had your blue garter, Su. He showed it to us.” Priscilla’s eyes were wide.

Siusan looked at Grant, horrified.

“Aye, he did, and yet, he somehow knew it did not belong to Priscilla and that she is not the woman he seeks.”

“I purposely mentioned that Ivy’s hair is red, in hopes that the charming duke would rule my sister out as his
Critheanach
who’d lost her slipper,” Priscilla added, “though I am sure I made a great goose of myself trying to wedge our own red herring into the conversation!”

Grant took Siusan’s shoulders in his hands and squeezed gently. “The question remains. How did he know Priscilla was not the woman he sought? He made it as far as our home, so we must assume he noticed your height.”

Siusan stilled. “I-I said something to him in the library. He heard my voice—and likely determined that I am a Scot.”

“Aye, that would be enough to bring him to our door. There are few Scots in London Society, fewer still that remained in Town after the Season.”

“And none possessing our height,” Priscilla said slowly.

“Still, I am confused,” Grant said. “You and
Priscilla greatly resemble each another. Many, even those who have encountered you a number of times, have mistaken each of you for the other. How could he know the difference … when he only met you in the dark?”

Siusan blanched, and her eyes slowly sought out Priscilla’s. She opened her mouth to reply, but she was too mortified to utter a word.

Priscilla set her right hand on her narrow hip and gestured to Siusan with her left. “Because Siusan has breasts and hips.” Priscilla looked down at her more girlish form, then averted her gaze, not wishing to draw a comparison. “Fully dressed, the difference between us mightn’t be so evident.”

“But in the dark …” Grant turned his gaze to Siusan.

Siusan crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, please do not look at me that way!” She spun around, flung open her wardrobe, and snatched a mantle from one of the pegs. “My course is clear. I must leave London before he learns there are more than two Sinclair sisters, which I am sure will not take long.”

“But where would you go? We haven’t the money to send you anywhere.” Priscilla shook her head. “Stay. He said his time is short in London.
You only need to refrain from attending events until he has departed. You needn’t leave Town.”

“Priscilla, how can you utter such nonsense?” Siusan snapped. “He knows where we live! He is bound to return. Nay, the only thing to do is leave for a time—that way when you tell him you are the only Sinclair sister in London, you will be telling the truth. And you, at least, will be spared Da’s anger if he learns of this.”

“Now, Su, dinna be hasty.” Grant rubbed his face with his palms. “We have to hide you, ‘tis all. For a short time.”

Mrs. Wimpole, the Sinclair’s cook and maid of all things, cleared her throat to announce her presence at the door. How long she’d been standing there, Siusan did not know.

The cook stood in the doorway with tea tray and plate of something green and round. “Thought you might be wantin’ something to eat, Lady Siusan, since you missed your meal. Brought sea-kelp biscuits to take with your tea.”

Siusan looked at the green treats and covered her mouth. “Thank you, Mrs. Wimpole, but tea will be fine this noon. I do not think I could manage to eat one bite just now.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Lady Siusan, but I overheard the goings-on in the parlor, and here … and
I am sorry for listening—but if you’ll be needin’ a place to stay for a time, my cousin Mrs. Huddleston has a school for young ladies in Bath.”

“How could she hide in a school?” Priscilla shook her hands in the air. “Su’s hardly a miss. Someone would notice,” she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Well, she’s recently lost an instructor,” Mrs. Wimpole replied. “The girl suddenly ran off to marry without so much as a word of warning or thanks. Maybe you, Lady Siusan, could take her place for a time?”

“But I am not a teacher,” Siusan replied. “I have no training whatsoever.”

“Again, beggin’ your pardon, my lady, but you do.”

Grant laughed. “Dancing, dressing, choosing menus, singing—aye, she is very skilled in the art of doing nothing of consequence.”

“Exactly, my lord,” Mrs. Wimpole said. “She has been trained in the social graces.” She settled the tea service on the dressing table, knocking over a candlestick and righting it again before turning back to face them all. “She needs an instructor, and you, Lady Siusan, need a place to hide and a few quid in your pocket.”

Siusan looked quizzically at Grant, then Pris-
cilla. “I’ve never worked a day in my life. For God’s sake, I am the daughter of a duke.”

“Aye, but we haven’t the coin to send you off to a fine hotel or country house until the Duke of Exeter leaves London,” Grant reminded her. “In order to leave London, you must work to pay your way.”

Mrs. Wimpole nodded, setting both her chins to jiggling. “I can write a letter of introduction now. Take it with you to Bath. Liddy Huddleston will not turn you away. She wouldn’t have the school at all had it not been for yours truly.”

“What do you mean, Mrs. Wimpole?” Priscilla asked.

“Oh, nothin’ at all. Done her a few favors over the years is all, and I know she is grateful.” Mrs. Wimpole looked at Siusan expectantly. “So, shall I pen the letter?”

Siusan gazed at Grant and Priscilla, hoping one of them would interject with a resounding “nay!” but both were nodding in agreement. “Aye, Mrs. Wimpole. Please do.” She walked over and gave the older woman a hug. “I do so appreciate this.”

“I know you do.” Mrs. Wimpole started for the door. “I will pack you a basket of food for the journey. Oh, I am so glad I baked a few extra sea-kelp biscuits. They’ll keep your belly full enough.” She
was still talking as she waddled into the passage.

“I’ll set Killian off to the mews to purchase a ticket for transport, and send Lachlan out to gather a few supplies for your trip … since I would not wish for the driver to open the carriage and find you dead with a telltale sea-kelp biscuit in your hand.” Grant chuckled as he turned to leave. He stopped as he reached the door and looked back at Siusan, his mood suddenly somber. “I was opposed to the idea of your leaving before, Su, but I can see now that it is the only way. I am sorry.”

Siusan nodded. “I know.”

“And, since it is for just a short time, I will let you take the blue satin slippers,” Priscilla said happily.

“I will be an instructor at a girls’ school, Priscilla. When will I have an opportunity to wear them?”

Priscilla shrugged. “I am sure you will find an occasion.” With that, her sister hurried from the room to fetch the shoes.

Siusan looked down at her portmanteau, then sank down onto the pallet beside it. Good God, Lady Siusan Sinclair, the eldest daughter of the Duke of Sinclair, was actually going to have to work for her bread.

H
ere are your quarters,” Mrs. Huddleston told Siusan, gesturing through the door at a room not much larger than the cabin of a carriage. “Not much, but it should be comfortable enough.” She turned a key in a small work-table beside a tiny bed and removed a half-spent candle, which she inserted into a dented iron hog-scraper candlestick. “Candles are dear, so take
care to remember to remove the taper from the candlestick and lock it in the drawer during the day. The girls will snatch it if it’s left out.”

“Why would they do that?” Siusan asked, peering at the stub.

“To light their way when they are up to no good in the middle of the night, that’s why.” She shook her head. “You haven’t a notion what you are in for, do you, miss? Oh, but you will learn soon enough. These little ladies are sent here for a good reason, I tell you, and it isn’t for a proper education. They are hoydens, every last one of them, and it is our task to stifle their boisterous natures and shape them into virtuous ladies.”

Siusan entered the room fully, set her portmanteau on the narrow bed, and took a closer look at her new home. The room was lit, with a single narrow window looking out at the street below. Three hooks on the back of the door served as a wardrobe. A white basin and ewer were perched atop a small pine writing table, and one linen towel was folded on the plank chair beside it.

Hmm. Just like home.

“Mrs. Wimpole’s letter made it quite clear that you are in hiding and that the length of your stay is undetermined. She did not deem it necessary to share any other details.” Mrs. Huddleston paused
then, as if waiting for Siusan to explain her circumstances, which she was not about to do. The fewer people who knew of her predicament, the better.

As if determining herself that Siusan was not going to explain anything, the older woman’s features tightened, and she swallowed hard. “She assured me that you were a woman of breeding and that you are skilled in the social graces. That is the only reason I agreed to allow you into the School of Virtues.”

That, and you are short one teacher.
Siusan nodded.

“Nevertheless, while you are here, you will obey the same rules as our students. Candles are to be extinguished by nine of the clock. No exceptions. The doors will be locked at that time as well, and no one will be permitted to leave or enter until morn.” Mrs. Huddleston grimaced suddenly and bent to straighten the towel so that it aligned perfectly with the table’s edge.

Wait a moment. What did she say? No one may leave or enter? Impossible.
She must have simply misunderstood Mrs. Huddleston. Best to clarify. “Certainly I will have a key so that I may leave once the girls are asleep.”

“No exceptions!” The skin around her eyes cinched like a reticule drawstring. “Relax the
rules, and the next thing I know my instructors are out cavorting, getting themselves heavy with child, then running off to marry.”

“I assure you, that will not be the case for me. I am here to hide, nothing more, though I would enjoy touring Bath while I am here.”

“Oh, would you? Then you shall have to make do with lecture outings with the students.
No exceptions.”
Mrs. Huddleston lifted her chatelaine. “If you require supplies of any sort, you must ask me for them. I hold the keys. Our budget here is limited, you understand, and I maintain tight control over the inventory.”

Siusan shuddered.
Good God,
she couldn’t stay here, even for a few days. This wasn’t a school—it was a prison!
Nay. Nay.
She couldn’t stay. Dizziness dimmed her vision, and she sat down on the bed.

“I was speaking to you, miss. Stop daydreaming.” Mrs. Huddleston loomed over her and peered down her nose.

“I am sorry. What did you say, Mrs. Huddleston?”

“The girls will address you as Mistress.”

I am no miss and shall not be treated as if I were!
“Nay, if I am to teach them the ways of the ladies in Society, they will refer to me properly—as Lady Siusan.”

Mrs. Huddleston’s thick gray-flecked eyebrows lifted.
“Lady
Siusan, is it? La-de-da.”

“Aye. Lady Siusan. The girls must learn respect, I am sure you agree, so I will be addressed as Lady Siusan.”

A queer amused smile lifted Mrs. Huddleston’s thin lips. “Very well.” She lifted the letter of introduction Mrs. Wimpole had penned to her and poked her finger at it. “But I will address you as
Miss Bonnet,
as it says in the letter of introduction. You can pretend to be a lady while you teach the girls manners, they might even enjoy the game, but I will address you by your proper name—Miss Bonnet.”